At the risk of sounding completely insane, for a brief moment (okay, more like 22 minutes) I contemplated committing one of the singularly most heinous fashion crimes: Buying a wedding gown, when you needn't one.
There it was: Victoria Beckham bridal, on Net-A-Porter's USA site and 70% off. For the price of a Tanjong Pagar bridal salon rental, one could own a designer gown. What a dream!
Truly, this begged a more diabolical question: Had I morphed into *that* girl? The one who glances longingly at Louboutin's ruffled bridal collection when she really should be focussing on pumps? Or who briefly placed Rupert Sanderson's blush Figaro sandals into her shopping cart before opting for the rather more practical Quince wedges? My fashion soul is certainly in peril.
Time to award blame! For this dubious honour, I look to one of my oldest friends, H, who tied the knot on last Friday. Equally, a university acquaintance walked down the aisle on Sunday past. Rubbing salt to the wound (while cleaning out my wallet) is a colleague's wedding this coming Sunday evening. Can you see why I've got weddings on the mind? It can't be helped!
No doubt Guy M's room must be flooded with panicked perspiration now. On my part, I definitely need something to cleanse the wedding palette. Perhaps then this rather apropos Anya Hindmach 'Remedies' pouch (US$40):
My goodness, is it only Tuesday?