At what point will people laugh at me in the streets? The wearing of leather trousers.

baaaaaaaaaa

So I had a long post written this evening all about the hell of school holidays. (I may still post it, it’s mildly diverting awesome, so look out for it. Witty and insightful.) Then I was going to write about the political stalemate in Australia. (Not really, although obviously I have been contacted a lot with my political pundit background). But then I decided that I need to be true to myself. What do they always say – write about what you know? So I’m writing about a big issue that has been plaguing me all week. Leather trousers. I know – you thought we were covering the big issues before, what with soccer kisses and Ikea, but we have got even MORE highbrow.

Specifically, can a mother in her mid-30s (at what point do your mid thirties become your late thirties? I think 39 personally) get away with leather trousers? Even more specifically:  Read more...

• In what area of her life will she be wearing them?  Will she ever actually put them on or will they be assigned to what her husband refers to as the ‘aspirational’ section of her wardrobe? Alongside the summer garden party frocks (I live in England), the white trousers (I have children) and the 6 inch velvet heels (although how good would these look with the leather trousers? VERY good, that’s how good.)