I fell in love with a nightdress last night. You see I am the kind of woman that likes to waft about in a floaty something around the house, in strict contrast to the black trousers/black vest and pretty ballet slipper combo I wear everyday outside of it.
I like my nighties long and floaty and fresh and I accessorize them in preposterous style with silly bed-socks and holey cardigans and must often be seen pottering around the garden looking ludicrously attired.
But oh how lovely I feel. Isn’t it funny how so very often there is a huge dis-connect between how we actually look and how we feel?
So yes. Last night I fell in love with a nightie because really floaty nighties are getting harder and harder to come by and this one is so fresh and crisp and tent-like with both a really flattering neckline and deliciously useless sleeves so I’m really not sure I can live without it.
I have said it before and I will say it again: the heart wants what it wants and will not be persuaded that the neighbours would probably appreciate me more in a nice pair of pyjamas instead of the ghostly vision I must seem to be at six o’clock in the morning.
The heart wants what it wants. And feeling lovely is half the battle don’t you know?