“These Are The Clothes My Boyfriend Hates (& I Absolutely Love)”

I’ll caveat this by saying it’s probably not all loafers, but a select few in my collection are utter man-repellers. First up: a pair of excellent vintage M&S chunky loafers – a £5 charity shop score from years ago and arguably one of my best buys to date. With a gloriously chunky sole and a carmel/white/brown colour palette, I wear them at least once a week because they go with literally everything, from mini hemlines and socks to my everyday jeans and tailored trousers.

Fun fact: I actually wore them on our second date, when he humorously referred to them as “1950s golf shoes.” I wasn’t remotely bothered then, and I’m still wearing them years later. Other notable offenders in the collection include leopard print and stark white, both of which are guaranteed to inspire a little comment whenever they leave the house.

Other notable offenders include leopard print & stark white, both of which are guaranteed to inspire a little comment whenever they leave the house.

I own two rather fabulous Kitri vinyl jackets (RIP to the brand, which sadly closed this summer – though I did manage to nab my second one in their clearance sale for an absolute steal). The first is a patchwork delight of powder blue, caramel, and snakeskin that garners endless compliments from the gals and the gays. The BF, however, is significantly less impressed, regularly likening it to Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat.

The second is a jet-black vinyl situation featuring detachable (and wonderfully obnoxious) white Mongolian fur collar and cuffs. On her maiden voyage, he asked if I was heading to a Berlin sex club. As fashion insults go, I’ve had far worse. Water off a duck’s back. Or, indeed, a very practical collection of waterproof vinyl jackets.

On her maiden voyage, he asked if I was heading to a Berlin sex club. As fashion insults go, I’ve had far worse.

Anyone who knows me knows I go absolutely feral for striped trousers. My partner, however, calls them “the clown trousers,” usually followed by questions about when I’m due back at the circus. But whether it’s laid-back pyjama styles in the summer or ’70s-inspired flared numbers, they remain a beloved staple and feel so inherently me in my version of a “capsule wardrobe” – and they aren’t going anywhere.

They remain a beloved staple & feel so inherently me that they aren’t going anywhere.

And despite his upfront rinsing, he did – rather sweetly – follow me around Liberty recently on a mission to hunt down a pair of La Veste’s iconic striped pants. I hasten to add, they were out of stock, but his temporary support of a jazzy trouser was noted and much appreciated.

I’ll spare you the exact comment he made about a Damson Madder plaid midi skirt for fear of him getting cancelled online, but safe to say, he was not a fan. I don’t think men always get the whole voluminous, oversized silhouette thing, and that’s fine – Lord knows we’re not dressing for them anymore.

The same applied to a vintage kilt-esque skirt I packed for a trip to the Highlands recently (granted, perhaps a little too on the nose), where it was met with a look of sheer bewilderment.

I don’t think men always get the whole voluminous, oversized silhouette thing, and that’s fine – Lord knows we’re not dressing for them anymore.

I think the art of the grown-up going-out top is often lost on straight men in their 40s. My idea of a chic evening top – the kind that is the entire outfit – isn’t sequined, tight, or strappy. Instead, it’s fluid and elegant. Liquid silk draped across the body, perhaps an exaggerated shoulder, definitely a dramatic high neckline, and as much excess fabric as humanly possible.

To my boyfriend, this translates as Queen Elizabeth I, a Shakespearean court jester, or a barrister heading to the Old Bailey. 

I think the art of the grown-up going-out top is often lost on straight men in their 40s.