Sometimes I wish I was a Glamour Girl, not a Grubby Mummy. I usually wish this when I only have 20 minutes to shower, shampoo, blow-dry, dress and slurp instant coffee between mouthfuls of cold toast before running to catch the bus to work in the mornings. A Glamour Girl rarely arrives late to work because she had to find (and iron!) another clean shirt after the first one was smeared with peanut butter, yoghurt and bread crumbs by her delightful one year old.
Actually, Glamour Girl is most unlikely to have breakfast at all and just pick up a double shot decaf, skim soy latte on her way to the office.
I love the total Glamour Girl look. The polished nude pumps, a well-shaped, non-chipped pale pink mani/pedi, a perfectly pressed crisp white shirt tucked into a black tailored pencil skirt with diamond stud earrings completed by an elegantly pinned chignon at the nape of her neck.
I would wear a pair of this season’s Mimco open toe ankle boots, the delightful florescent orange harem pants by sass & bide, a flowing blouse and a statement necklace if I were a Glamour Girl.
And I must meet a Glamour Girl’s make-up artist. The never-coming-off dewy complexion she achieves is always the perfect blend with her natural skin tone, while her cheeks are glistening with a sun-kissed rouge that puts even Gisele to shame.
I’d have every OPI pastel nail colour at my Tiffany & Co adorned finger tips so I'm never caught out in a nail emergency, plus I'd pop my Yves Saint Laurent Touche Eclat and a Lancome Juicy Tube in to the inner pouch of my Chanel quilted leather clutch for subtle touch ups during the day.
On weekends I’d slip into my comfy 7 For All Mankind jeans, throw on my Stella McCartney cotton top and Chloe ballet flats before driving off in my Mini Cooper convertible for a light lunch with the girls. Afterwards I'd pick up my new Marc Jacobs (fed-exed from New York) dress for cocktails and dancing in the evening.
If I were a Glamour Girl I’d look good 24/7, even in bed, because it is a never ending production to be her.
But today, and tomorrow, I will be Grubby Mummy. I live in 12 year old brown Birkenstocks, a beige (colour formerly known as white) Espirit singlet and faded blue Witchery linen shorts with a stretched waistband. I have three-inch regrowth in my long blonde, unwashed hair and dirty, torn nails from playing in the garden with my son.
If I were a Glamour Girl I would be envious of Grubby Mummy and want her no-fuss, affordable life and amazing family. I would want to be me.
On weekends I’d slip into my comfy 7 For All Mankind jeans, throw on my Stella McCartney cotton top and Chloe ballet flats before driving off in my Mini Cooper convertible for a light lunch with the girls. Afterwards I'd pick up my new Marc Jacobs (fed-exed from New York) dress for cocktails and dancing in the evening.
If I were a Glamour Girl I’d look good 24/7, even in bed, because it is a never ending production to be her.
But today, and tomorrow, I will be Grubby Mummy. I live in 12 year old brown Birkenstocks, a beige (colour formerly known as white) Espirit singlet and faded blue Witchery linen shorts with a stretched waistband. I have three-inch regrowth in my long blonde, unwashed hair and dirty, torn nails from playing in the garden with my son.
If I were a Glamour Girl I would be envious of Grubby Mummy and want her no-fuss, affordable life and amazing family. I would want to be me.
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