Clothes Horse.


Spending £90 on two shirts has put me in a full-scale panic.

I went out with the intention of buying something new to wear onstage. I haven’t bought clothes in an aeon and it’s starting to show. I have two shirts I would describe as my best which are in constant rotation. There’s only so many times you can wash and flash-dry the same outfit before it starts to degrade. The contents of my wardrobe could double as an illustration of coastal erosion.

I was all set to go somewhere closer to my budget (rhymes with 'text'), when I noticed my favourite - and pricier – clothes shop had a 50% sale. You can’t argue with that. Whether the discount would equal the sale price of an item from my intended destination is up for debate (answer: “no’), but it was worth a look. This is how they lure you in.

There were a number of shirts on the rail outside suiting my remit (i.e. “slight hint of wallpaper”). All were at a marked down price. There was no way I’d have considered them at the going rate – spending £95 on a shirt is ludicrous, unless it comes with a dresser who'll hold the arms open each time you slide in – but the discount brought them into the realms of possibility. Just.

I took so many into the changing room, and spent so long trying them on, that I felt I had to buy something. I know: poor excuse. The two I went for were nice, but slightly bigger than I’d have liked. I wish I’d just bought one. Spending money makes me worry. I’d take one back, but they only have an exchange policy. 

At least when I wear one at tomorrow’s Mostly Comedy, I can’t be accused of not having any new material. It'll also make the shirt tax deductible. Well done me.

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