The Fashion Police

Where have I been? Blame Facebook. It's the greatest timewaster I've come across in an age thanks to Scrabulous. I've been play Scrabble almost incessantly for the past 3 weeks with various friends scattered from NZ, to the UK, and Papua New Guinea.

I guess it has its benefits - apparently "qi" is a word and so too is "jow". There's nothing like having some more useless information to add to the burgeoning list.

Anyway it seems the grip of winter (not that Wellington really has one) is loosening and spring is on the way. I guess this means I've run out of excuses not to be out and about on the weekends and trying to lead a semi-meaningful life.

Mind you Wellington's a bit of a weird place for socialising. The profusion of civil servants and other assorted professional types means there's a certain degree of decorum that I'm still coming to grips with. You see I'm a Canterbury boy by nature so I'm more used to the slightly more relaxed attitude that exists down there. If you feel like going out in Christchurch wearing jeans and a shirt you can pretty much get away with it. A little bit of scruffiness is perfectly acceptable there. Not so in the capital though. Here if you're going out you have to be reasonably presentable and woe betide you if you turn up wearing anything from Hallensteins. For a bloke that managed to get away with not wearing a tie until he was 33 I'm finding it a wee bit of a shock to the system. A few weeks back my trusty old boots ($29.95 at the Warehouse) finally gave up the ghost leaving me with no option but to buy another pair. The Wellington fashionista (or should that be facisnista) got to me and I've ended up with a new pair of $350 dollar footwear.

Gulp!

God help me when I finally get around to buying the shirts and pants to go with them. I suspect I may need a bank loan.