Too old for Topshop

A recent trip to Oxford Street left me with a sinking feeling.

It all started when I thought to myself - I haven't been into Topshop in ages, I must pop in and see if I can find a pretty spring top. So I enthusiastically walked in and was hit - very suddenly - with the feeling that I was far too old to be in there.

By the top of the escalators were what I can only assume were trendy teens, midriffs and bum cheeks on display, wearing mouse ear headbands and uncomfortable looking shoes.

What I thought was relatively fashionable office wear (navy pleated Ralph Lauren skirt with a tight crisp white blouse showing an appropriate amount of office cleavage), felt frumpy. But I battled through the giggling girls and descended into fashion mecca.


My arrival on the lower ground floor of Topshop's flagship store was met by more scantily clad teenagers, obscenely bright clothes (when did fluro yellow and orange come back into style?) and ridiculously loud music.

But what was more disconcerting is the fact that what is now the height of cool, was stuff that I was essentially wearing when I was a kid. It is official! I am old enough to remember the trends when they first came round.

I remember fighting my mum to let me buy a midriff top, that showed of my ridiculously tiny, very pale tummy. Now they're back in fashion and I don't have to fight, but why I would put my now squishy, very pale tummy on display is beyond me.

SO there we have it, I am officially too old (in spirit, if not by age) to be shopping in Topshop.

Stay tuned for when I inevitably trade in my heals for orthopedic flats. It can't be far away.