A few words no woman ever likes to hear

‘So great to see you. And good luck with the baby’. Mmmm. These are not the words a woman likes to hear, particularly if she is not having one.

So that got me thinking about apportioning blame. And that I will do, by blaming a fashion label for making me look like I was up-le-duff when it was, quite clearly, the fault of French luxury label frippery that had a person of acquaintance wishing my gestation period well.

The suspect in question, right, is a black, loose-flowing, triple-layered polyester dress from Lanvin (bought on a sale rack, may I add) with a peasant neckline and the same triple-treating of fabric around the arm-holes.

Actually, as the ‘you-look-pregnant’ inference was made it got me thinking about what a ridiculous ride some pieces of clothing take us on.

It also proved a theory that what is perceived as fashion perfection to style die-hards, is just a plain-as-poop fashion disaster to others.

What fashion types regard as so ‘on-trend’ quite often looks downright dowdy to those who inhabit the real world.

What ‘works’ when worn wandering down a fashion-savvy ‘rue’ in Paris can look ludicrous worn at my local RSL.

Take another example of designer frippery.

A few years ago, when in Milan covering the European fashion show season, I went into the Miu Miu store and bought a silk taffeta bubble skirt. Loved it. So did all the cool young chicks in the store, whether they worked there or not.

It wasn’t a ridiculous, over-the-top bubble, but a gentle, to-the-knee skirt with a slightly rounded hemline, exhibit (a) above.

It was one of those pieces that international fashion folk (and I’m talking those who scout the world following and embracing trends before re-interpreting them into mags and websites the worlds over) pointed to and asked about in the ensuing days, as the Milan shows went about their business.

For once, I felt vaguely in-fashion in a sea of fashion fabulous-ness.

Until I came home. To the real world.

Thinking that same ‘wow, you are so now’ attitude would prevail when I wore my of-the-moment ‘bubble’ to a party in Sydney, instead, I got a few stares and not-so-quiet whispers.

‘God, did you get that out of your 80s archive?’, ‘It’s just not you, to be honest’,’it looks just ridiculous’, said my best pal whose opinion I actually trust.

So, while I contemplate bidding a public adieu to those two particular pieces of fabric, they have both led to the conclusion: Sometimes what happens on the runway , should stay on the runway.

Have you got any wardrobe ‘bits’ you’ve also loved but worn through rose-colored glasses?