Underneath my cot there are three big boxes full of my old clothes. I'm four months old.
Now I'm a boy of style and taste, hence the storage issues (fashion is a fickle mistress), but Daddy is a tramp. According to him my sartorial pride will always come second to the appetite of the moths in his wallet, which is why he's banned Mummy from buying me any new clothes.
Thankfully, Mummy has discovered a loophole in this draconian dictat from heir Daddy: Teddington has a super cool baby-wear charity shop called Fara! All the people in Tedders who are less miserly than Daddy donate their clothes to Fara and then all the people who are misers - like Daddy - come and buy them. This means the posh people feel all virtuous, the misers are happy 'cos they get a bargain, and - more importantly - the children of Romania get a helping hand courtesy of Fara.
So, the first recommendation of the week goes to Fara and their lovely kids shop in Teddington.
But that's not all. After picking up a fine selection of cast offs I can now recommend my label of choice. Now, if it were up to Daddy I'd be wearing sensible, comfortable and cheap clothes - quite possibly sportswear akin to the tat sold and modelled by this awful man.
My clothing brand of choice, however, comes from the same nation as all the finest fashion houses. Unlike the ape Ashley and his shell suits and replica football tops, I'd like to think Saint Laurent himself might have gurgled and giggled in Petit Bateau. Without wanting to go all Gok Wan, the cut of even their vests is exquisite. So despite Daddy's ban, as long as Fara are peddling used French fashion I'll be looking a million dollars. Or eight million francs. Mangetout.
Then there's always noaddedsugar.com for when I'm feeling a little more street.
AMK
Sunday, 29 November 2009
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We want to see the model modelling these 'said' fashions!
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