Fashion in London

I am not sure if London is a fashion mecca or not, but I don't think so. I've heard they do have some high-end stores in central London, but certainly not around here. When we first got here I noticed that everybody wore black or dark clothing.  At first I thought maybe it was the new fall color, but then it didn't take long to realize why.  It is a matter of survival. While the air is much cleaner than it was in the 1800's with all the factories and coal burning, there is still a (many) layers of grime everywhere.  If things started as white or tan, they are now black or dark in color. I am pretty sure it is this way in any large city, especially in one as old as London.

I might have fancied myself as a semi-fashionable person many years ago--many, many years ago.  But now, I only dress for comfort and warmth. Today we had an appointment to teach an investigator, I had to laugh as I watched Terry and myself get ready.  You see, it's all about layers.  Multiple layers.  It is easier for Terry, his regular suit and tie, a sweater, long wool over coat, scarf, gloves and ear muffs, umbrella in hand.  He looks handsome no matter what, dapper even.  But it is much more of an ordeal for me.  Remember those fleece tights I talked about earlier?  Let me tell you, they are delicious!  They are so warm and cozy.  Today, however, was a "two pair of tights" day. Coat, scarf, gloves, ear muffs and of course umbrella. There is a system to it all, and everything has to go on in its perfect order or it doesn't work.  It was only sprinkling when we got off the first bus and waited for the second bus, but by the time we got off the second bus and began the 1/2 mile walk to her flat it was pouring.  The heavens just opened and emptied buckets of rain.  The umbrella's helped, but because the wind was blowing the rain in sideways, we were drenched by the time we got there. The appointment was good and we were mostly dry by the time we left, so all is well.

I thought about taking a picture of ourselves all bundled up, but then I thought, I really don't want to be reminded about how ridiculous I looked.  Terry says I looked like one of our grandchildren getting ready to go outside to play in the snow but are so bundled up that they can hardly move.  Sigh.

Staying with the fashion theme, I wanted to share a funny story that happened.  At an appointment one day, the lady we were teaching asked me what she should wear when she came to church with us the following Sunday.  I told her that most women wear a dress or skirt, but if she were more comfortable, she could wear pants.  The young missionary, who is from Yorkshire, England practically jumped out of his seat yelling, "trousers, she means trousers!"   Apparently I have not mastered the language yet.  What we call pants, they call trousers.  What they call pants, we call underwear.  Oops!