Lady Bracknell's views on polyester
Lady Bracknell's esteemed mother has long been of the opinion not only that the arrival of warm, sunny weather in this country is automatically greeted by a universal decline in sartorial standards, but also that the average person of over twenty five looks a very great deal better covered up at all times other than those which she once memorably described as "sportif occasions". (Lady Bracknell's esteemed mother bows to no-one in her fondness for euphemisms.)
Averting her eyes from the acres of mottled flesh on display, Lady Bracknell's attention was caught by a commuter who, whilst admittedly being much more modestly attired than the majority of her fellow passengers, could not have been said to have dressed appropriately for the weather.
The lady in question (who is very probably a kind and decent individual and greatly loved by all with whom she comes into contact) was wearing a tartan fleece jacket over a particularly grim two-piece polyester suit, in an unpleasant shade approximating buttermilk, consisting of a permanently pleated skirt and a blouse with a self-tie neckline. To wear either of these items would lead to raised eyebrows: to combine the two is the act of an individual entirely devoid of any concept of what best becomes her.
Lady Bracknell is by no means an advocate of following the dictates of "fashion" slavishly.
However, despite its "easy care" properties, she is firmly of the belief that polyester is an abomination and that outer garments fashioned from its harsh, slippery fibres should be avoided at all costs.
In other news, the white-haired gentleman with the harp was on the same omnibus as Lady Bracknell again this afternoon. Regrettably, she was deep in conversation with a rather charming lady about local opportunities for adopting cats, and thus missed the opportunity she has so long looked for to ask him where he goes and what he does with the harp.