First, I admired pictures of Lulu's feather cut.
Then, I nodded towards Sharon Osbourne's tailored jacket.
Finally, I copycatted Jackie Collins' big earrings.
I had reached a fashion crossroads.
Too old for Primark. Too young for Per Una.
My style has always been eclectic. Individual. Any number of superlatives which describe Helena Bonham Carter meets Lily Savage.
That's another blog called 'Skinnies and Scarves' - the accepted school run attire for women my age.
Boring! When you can resemble Crystal Carrington.
How did I reach this precipice?
I was the original wild child. A goth. A mod. An indie chick. Black hair. Doc Martens.
Morrissey and Robert Smith were my idols. Not Lilo Lil.
Laughing at my mother's friends with their cerise lips, shoulder pads and big hair. I was never going to look like a middle aged mother.
In my 20s and 30s I wore Next suits to work and went out clubbing in flesh revealing polyester items from Topshop and MK1 (RIP).
Then, after I had kids, I became confused. And bloated.
I wore appropriate frumpy, blousy, outfits. I may as well have dressed in a giant muslin cloth.
Sensible, inoffensive clothing whose only statement was: "Please ignore me, I am lactating."
But then, in one radical mid life crisis, I hacked off my safe bob, culled all floral prints and bought a biker jacket and boots.
Birds of a feather boa
How do women clinging onto their 30s dress? Who are the acceptable role models?
Cool: Kate Moss. Tarty: Kat Slater. Business: Karen Brady. Mature: Natasha Kaplinsky. Quirky: Dita Von Teese.
It's a fine (frown) line between edgy and Dorian from Birds of a Feather...
Do I opt for bland and beige? Skinnies, Breton tops and scarves, like a clone army of yummy mummies straight out of Boden and Next?
A cool customer, like Emma Willis or Jools Oliver?
Maybe it's time to go all Laura Ashley. Floaty and floral prints, duck egg blue, WI.
Keep calm and carry on. Stay stressed and quit.
Or, do I go for the mutton/ lamb drag of Joan Rivers, Joan Crawford or Joan Collins?
Maybe its inevitable that I will follow the path well trodden by my mothers' stilettos.
Welcome to the jungle
|Whip it up! Indiana Jones needs to tame this leopard|
I love animal print. But my favourite of all is the leopard. I have more spots than Dudley Zoo.
But not as many as Julie Goodyear.
Leopard appeals to my inner rock chick.
But then I spot the pensioner on the bus with her funky spotted shopping trolley.
And Bianca Jackson.
|It's a family affur! We love fur.|
I have more precious metal in my wardrobe than Michael Bolton's CD collection.
Gold is flattering on any complexion ( a sure sign of ageing) and the sparkle glams up any outfit.
I'm not saying I strut around in Kylie's hotpants and Madonna's cone bra (well, not anymore), but my wardrobe looks like Tutankhamun's tomb.
Sequins, diamantes, glitter. If an outfit has bling or sparkle, I'm on it. Like a magpie coveting the crown jewels.
|Gold and fur. A double strike. Add another point for Mom's waistcoat.|
Kiss and makeup
So I've emulated the Robert Smith look for a while, but the red lippy even comes out on a visit to the corner shop.
I could go for a nude, but I don't do natural or subtle. Would Joan partake in cocktails wearing a lipstick named 'Hint of Beige' when she could go for a face slapping 'Clown Red'?
I used to by alabaster foundation in my youth, but now I need to look like the lovechild of Judith Chalmers and David Dickinson.
|Orange-a-tan: spot the difference|
No jacket required
Jackets are the perfect partner to short hair.
Fonzy collars, Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen cuffs.
Sleek neat lines. With my rouged lips, I could give Count Ducklua a run for his money.
When I'm in shoulder pads I feel empowered. Like Grace Jones or Batfink.
"Pads make your waist appear thinner," mother advises.
Now where's that waspy belt?
All white now
Having donned black for years, the only time I wore whiteish was on my wedding day, and, technically, that shouldn't have been allowed.
But lately I have been reaching for the Daz.
White is flattering near my face, yet totally impractical with kids, curry or beans.
Or kids eating curried beans.
Monochrome is another classic look for women of a certain age.
But I'm concerned I may look like a Harlequin or Pierrot. Or Freddy Mercury in that video.
The bigger the better.
Shades like Magenta Devine. Pat Butcher earrings, hats, pashminas (basically, just a big scarf, but not like 'Doctor Who's' Tom Baker) handbags and shoes.
No more DMs for me. Skyscraping, spikey shoes which give me bunions, blisters and toes like Anjelica Huston in 'The Witche's.
When I was 10 I went to the theatre to see 'Annie'.
Draped in my mother's fur coat, I felt posh, sophisticated and grown up.
These days I am a vegetarian and have faked it for years - and worn faux fur.
From stoles and gloves to muffs and hats. If I can team it with leopard then it is a double whammy.
I love the glamour, the flamboyance, the movie star extravagance.
|The name's Anna. Karenina.|
Please see my blog: Bee in my Barnet http://thenews-on.blogspot.co.uk/2012/06/bee-in-my-barnet.html on my personal fears of becoming Anne Diamond, Ann Widdecombe or Anne Boleyn.