This is the skirt I bought in the Zara by Opéra in Paris on Thursday evening for this A/W. It’s surprisingly flattering, with a narrow cut that would be nigh on impossible to walk in, bar that it has a button through front that stops near the knees so there’s a flash of leg, and I don’t look too mummified in cloth.
I haven’t worn a skirt this long since I bought a very slinky Joseph black satin backed crepe floor length number in 1996. (I found it in the attic last week, but I fear I may be a little plumper fourteen years later). I’m going to wear this one with my black leather Whistles biker jacket (the Lisa).
(I’m not buying into the aviator jacket trend for this season, although I sat with increasing lust through Burberry’s show, and Acne’s aviators make me weep with longing. I have a very substantial bosom, and wrapping it in sheepskin with a furry collar is not what I would call a flattering look, however small my back may be.)
(The only place I could think to hang it for a photograph, where it wouldn’t sweep the floor, was the doorway of my bedroom at the Hôtel de Vendôme.)