Maya

This is me in Columbia Road flower market last Sunday morning. I’ve been longing for it to be warm enough to try wearing this spinach-green jacket with its cuffs turned up. It’s by Max Mara, and I found it in a designer sale about 30 years ago – and couldn’t resist buying it. I remember it was fantastically cheap, though far too big. It was actually a suit, with a matching straight skirt, but the skirt was hopelessly huge. I hung the suit away and never got round to it, couldn’t think how to wear it. In the end, I gave the skirt away. I mean, how idiotic can you get? I should have had the skirt taken in. But at least I had the sense to hang on to the jacket, and last spring, in Paris, I saw women in jeans and oversized men’s jackets with the sleeves turned up and a man’s shirt underneath. A perfect casual look, thought I, with my green Uniqlo jeans. Rummaging in my husband’s cupboard for a shirt (in the end I just wore an old one of my own), I found this tie. He has 17 ties, and never wears any of them. This one actually belonged to his father (who died in 1986, so you can imagine how old this tie must be). My father-in-law was a rather scary psychiatrist, quite old-fashioned – heaven knows what he’d have thought if he could have seen me in his tie. His clothes were very classy – handmade shoes and shirts, each with a spare collar, and a wonderful hat with a brim which we still have somewhere. I felt dreadfully self-conscious in a man’s tie, but nobody seemed to notice, so I guess I got away with it.

I was given this posh Ralph Lauren sweater by Rosie – she got it in a charity shop, but can’t think how to wear it. So I’ve had a go. Not an easy colour, the purple is really very vivid, though pretty luscious… I used this dear little French silk neck cravat, pink, slate blue and orange and lilac, with my pink linen shirt, (also from a charity shop) and arty ear dangles in the same colours from an art gallery shop. My old black jeans from NY. I guess it looks OK in the garden where there are masses of purple flowers right now – you can see the alliums and a glimpse of wistaria.

I feel sure I’ve already showed off this little green cotton Burberry sweater, snapped up in a charity shop for £8. But this time I’ve had the bright idea of borrowing my husband’s lovely stripey BAM socks, which go with it perfectly. These little too-short trousers (I found them years ago, heavily reduced in M & S), are exactly what I needed to show the socks in their full glory – with these pale green earrings, and a dear little silk cravat from France (no idea who made it, there’s a ‘M’ on it somewhere, perhaps that’s why I got given it) my faithful old Ecco slip-ons and a lovely sunny morning.

This jacket’s new – to me, that is. My daughter gave it to me – she’s worn it day in day out for years, and it seems they’d both had enough of each other. Yes, if you peer closely it’s not in apple-pie condition, but I mean, would you turn it down? It’s by Brunello Cucinelli, and I think it looks gorgeous, even after years on duty. Decided to go for monochrome grey, with rather venerable charcoal pants, my husband’s v-neck slipover (I did ask him!), a grey shirt and one of my old favourites, this 1970s Liberty chiffon scarf.

This vintage silk jacket with tiger stripes by Jean Muir was found in a pre-loved shop by a friend, who decided it didn’t do it for her, so gave it to lucky me!! Here I am at Covent Garden Opera House, in the interval of Wagner’s Seigfried. Coincidence - the black sweater is also by Jean Muir; I bought it in her sale decades ago. My best black Dorothee Schumacher pants, and my usual black Ecco boots, which for once I actually polished. Bag by Aspinal.

This vivid purple Raph Lauren sweater was a present from my granddaughter. It was fun working out what to team it with – it has a strong personality of its own which brooks no interference. I ended up wearing my pink shirt (from a charity shop in Greece), black jeans, pink BAM socks and this dear little cravat from Turnbull and Asser. The miscellaneous pics on the wall are all by (or of) family, pets and friends.

Our garden is a minefield of exploding pears, which fall from our two huge pear trees and pile up on the ground. They’re small and bruised and taste incredibly sweet. 22 enormous glass jars of pears are already in the cellar, ready for winter breakfasts. As you can see, it’s impossible to thread one’s way through without crushing them. We’ve long since given up trying to pick up even a hundredth of them, but foxes, squirrels, birds (including green parakeets) and insects are helping out. The pic shows me trying to cope on a pear-hunt. I’m in my best (ancient) jeans and my (aged) denim-knit cotton sweater over a denim shirt I bought last summer at Emmaus. My belt (barely visible) belonged to a dear friend who died recently, so I kept it as a memento.

A photoshoot for our new translation of Anna Karenina. Our girls said we had to look smart and efficient, so I put on my fave cotton dress and this jacket, and sent a pic. They rejected the look, so I raced upstairs and changed – by then the team were actually expected, and I hadn’t finished my breakfast. So I flung on my Anne Fontaine shirt and this Jean Muir navy linen jacket. I greatly admire it, it’s very streamlined and as simple as possible – nothing silly like buttons or pockets – I should wear it more. Respectable Joseph navy pants and navy granny shoes, found at a Nicole Farhi sale. Don’t think she designed them, but I saw 2 pairs, navy and black, and snapped them up for £5 each. The scarf I found in a vide grenier at Villefranche many years ago. Must have cost a couple of euros, but it is actually couture, from Pierre Cardin - one of my luckiest finds. The blue earrings I picked up in Paris.

These pants are just one of the many black sprigged items which piled up (literally) in my summer wardrobe. I think I wore them last in France with a man’s white shirt and a straw boater, perhaps 5 years ago. High time to give them another airing. Worn here with a grey T-shirt, my mother’s old silk scarf, a rather nice lightweight cardigan by Calvin Klein (too good to be neglected, mustn’t forget its existence), and my favourite Moroccan belt.

I woke in the night deciding to wear one of my 2 white Anne Fontaine shirts today (I bought this one full price, and loved it so much I found another on ebay). I fancied giving this little gingery-brown cashmere cardigan-jacket an outing – I used to go to a lovely annual sale of TSE cashmeres, and this solid little jacket was going cheap, presumably because it’s not the easiest colour to wear. Imagining those two items together reminded me: I own something so precious I never even get it out to look at it, let alone wear it – a genuine pair of Gucci loafers. How I got them in the first place is like magic - I found them at a journalists’ sale, I think about 20 years ago, the only pair, my size, and priced at £5!!! But I never dare wear them – say they got muddy…? In the middle of the night, this reluctance just seemed stupid, so I decided to take the plunge and put them on tomorrow. The next question was my legs. My pale camel summer-weight pants would do fine– but next day, when I went to my summer wardrobe, they’d gone. I turned that wardrobe upside down and inside out – no sign of them. In the end I decided I must have given them away absent-mindedly (how could I?). Instead I put on these white jeans from John Lewis, a recent purchase – let’s say about 2 years ago. I think they do fine. The Victoria Beckham scarf was a present, and I’m wearing my favourite little gold earrings.

MayaStyle Disaster!!! See the video!! I came into the spare room to fetch a skirt, and found this!! The clothes rail had been held up by an ancient painted sashcord, presumably from a Victorian window. While Nicolas was nobly replacing the cords. I was idly counting the separate garments that make up my summer wardrobe. I counted 42 (not counting shirts or pants, which live elsewhere). I haven’t worn many of them for years – the ones that are too formal (for instance, I have several flowing Jean Muir classic pants suits, perfect for smart cocktail parties, bought at her sample sales in the 1980s). And I repeated myself quite a few times: I seem to have been obsessed by black longish skirts with offbeat white designs on them (4, with 1pair of similar pyjama pants), as well as my hot-weather dresses in fine blue cotton with Indian patterns (3 dresses and a jacket and skirt outfit, all from East), plus three button-through shirtwaisters in men’s striped shirt cotton (I particularly love these). The rest were mostly one-offs. I set to, hanging back the clothes. The still photo shows the final hanging. I’ll try to wear some of them next month, weather permitting. Meanwhile another problem – as well as the above, my winter jackets and some thick trousers and skirts are normally housed in this wardrobe over the summer, in plastic bags. I’ve heaped them on the wardrobe floor, fingers crossed and hope for the best. Finally, I have to make a confession – I own a black 1970s mink coat. I bought it years and years ago in a Vintage clothes shop with royalties from my novel, when such things were still worn, and I never wear it now, but it is incredibly beautiful and I couldn’t bear to destroy it. So I’ve hung it back in a place of honour in the wardrobe…

Suddenly it’s cold in August! I’m wearing 4 layers one on top of the other, only the top two visible – my cotton Burberry sweater (vintage, £8), and my ages-old quilted cotton summer jacket from East: the chrysoprase green [New word!] in the flowery lining exactly matches the sweater. Plus a pair of matching BAM socks filched from my husband, and my green malachite stud earrings. The too-short trousers were a bargain from M & S, perfect for showing off the socks…