Ok, don’t laugh at me for this. Promise? Ok.

There’s a part of me that has never grown up. Quite a large part. It’s part of what gets me out of bed and into clothes every morning. It’s the part that has encouraged me to put together “look book” folders of magazine cuttings since I had my first subscription to The Clothes Show magazine as a teenager. It’s the part that allows me to look at films, pictures and photographs and take inspiration from them. It’s the part that turned me into the sort of hoarder that still has half a dressing up box full of her gran’s cocktail gloves, scarves, hats, handkerchiefs… well, you get the idea.

For my 21st birthday my Mum and Step-Dad bought me an antique seaman’s chest – my treasure chest. In the bottom of the chest are the various folders of cuttings I have built up over the last decade. On top of this are a selection of fabulous dresses and accesories – the wonderful 70s maxi dress my Mum had for her 21st, for example, and the Jackie O inspired 60s number my Gran had for my Mum’s wedding.  The chest also holds a terrible secret. The fact that, at 27 years old, I still love to dress up.

Now, I know, everyone likes to dress up. No-one who loves fashion can claim otherwise – afterall, that’s what fashion is all about (of couse, some people who have no interest in fashion still like to dress up, but that’s a different matter!) But I like to dress up. I mean, really – dress up. Just for fun. For escape. For myself.

When we cleared out a load of my stuff the other week I asked my Mum to leave this dress because I sometimes escape into it. It was bought in a charity shop for £1.50. I wear it out in public once a year at the North Shields Victorian Market where I sell my fairies. It hangs in the spare room with my evening dresses and interview suits. The last time I tried it on was in the Autumn while watching A Room with a View (frocks AND Florence – who doesn’t love that?!). And it wouldn’t do up.

So tonight, while watching Jane Eyre (and admittedly draining a glass of wine) I decided to try it again. I know I’ve lost weight – why not give it a go? And to my joy of joys, it did up. In fact, it did up without my even having to stand on the back of the skirt to pull the zip straight! Can you imagine my joy!

So, yeah, Petra Pan, if you will, begs you not to judge her. Just see her inner child and acknowledge the possibility that she was born in the wrong century. Because, let’s face it, for all my flirting with jeans, frocks are definitely my thing.