Four years ago I promised myself that if I ever wrote a piece about fashion, I would put in the story of going to see my brother's body and buying an outfit at the Aberdeen branch of Topshop directly before or afterwards, I don't remember which. I went shopping supposedly to find a brown jumper to wear with the neat black skirt suit I had packed in my bag from London; the suit I had bought a couple of months before for a wedding, with the idea of looking like Mary Archer. In the event, though, I didn't find the right brown jumper; I forget, come funeral day, what I actually wore. But I did get a nice skirt in Top Shop, brown tweed with crooked pleats. I did get a useful smock top, thin but cosy, nicely draped. Both items I wore almost solidly throughout that winter season, feeling a strange new swing in my step. Both items I have worn only a little less solidly every winter since.

LRB 5 January 2006 | PDF Download