Last night Luma went to bed wearing two pairs of pajamas, because she’s two, and one pair just wasn’t enough. The day before, she walked to the ROM wearing a full length mille feuille tutu over her clothes. Most days, she walks out the door looking like she got dressed at a jumble sale. My children have always had a strong sense of how they want to dress. Antimo wore a tutu and a dragon suit through his toddler years, and Iole has pretty much been in fancy dress since birth. Wouldn’t it be fun to leave the house with a Carmen Miranda fruit bowl on your head, or to wear a full length ballgown to the dentist, just because? And why one pair of jeans, when you can wear three?

I’ve seen a lot of bomber jackets about lately. In our early teens, my brother and I both wore bombers. Mine was a Yankees one with white leather sleeves. It was baggy on me, but as a kid in London, an American baseball jacket was the coolest thing. If it hadn’t ended up on the racks of Oxfam, (my Mum is a regular purger) I might be inclined to still wear it. It was a good jacket. My Plan B is this Tahitian beauty, smoking a ciggy in the palm trees. The gold and green combo is pretty cool, too.

Some shoes are just too beautiful to live in a box. Years ago, I bought a breathtaking pair of Marie Antoinette style Manolos in the most perfect pink imaginable. They were a sample sale impulse buy, because they were a size too small. Sometimes, I’ll squeeze my foot in, like one of the ugly stepsisters, and waddle around the house, but the rest of the time, the shoes sit on our drink’s trolley. I think they look rather lovely among the crystal glasses, Whiskey and Gin, and at least this way, I get to enjoy them everyday.