Parents Evening

As a child I so adored the novels of Noel Streatfield that one day I found her number in the telephone directory and rang her up to say so. “I think Ballet Shoes is my favourite” I confided in trembling voice, my entire body contorted in paroxysms of embarrassment. I couldn't believe my daring. Miss Streatfield was perfect: her dialogue crisp but courteous (you could even hear the punctuation marks) , her manner steely but irreproachable. I replaced the receiver and felt my cheeks colouring wildly. It was a mini triumph. My report that term bore the legend: Susie has shown some flair for writing but it is a pity all her stories are set in ballet schools.

I thought of Miss Streatfield this morning when deciding what to wear to my daughter’s parents evening. I know it doesn't matter in the least, but I do want to make a good impression. There’s a key scene in Streatfield’s second best novel White Boots where the heroine, fledgling ice skating champ Harriet, tells her impoverished greengrocer mother that the dress code for the special performance at the rink that evening is ‘fur coats and fur boots.’ I wont be sporting that sort of get up tonight. For one thing, have you seen the way they heat these nursery schools? But I appreciate the simplicity of the idea. Its genius lies in the fact that for a nineteen sixties rink-side extravaganza it is absolutely correct.

For spring I like the thought of clothes that make me feel and look irreproachable, unimpeachable even, entirely grammatical and correct. Perhaps this is a result of my birthday treat outing to Mary Poppins whose every accoutrement bears testimony to her being practically perfect in every way. It’s not that I want to be liked, particularly. I just don't want to be criticised or found wanting anymore. I cant stand it. Mary Poppins prided herself on never giving references to future employers. Well I feel the same: no excuses, no explana tions. Take me or leave me. Enough!

Some clothes are so good that regardless of your behaviour, your inappropriate jokes, your bad habits, your arrival an hour late with no decent excuse, you will be met with high treatment wherever you go. I saw such a garment last week. It was an unstructured pale lacy coat in Dolce and Gabana with fine black lace trim, which was extremely feminine and beautiful yet utterly casual. With a small gasp of joy I stopped in front of it to pay my repects. It looked alluring on the mannequin, but when I slipped it on it it fitted like a halo, lifting everything about me, casting all my actions into the best possible light. It was a little bit Studio 54 and a little bit First Holy Communion. I loved it and had the idea that the feeling was mutual.

A luxurious lightweight spring coat can seem like an unnecessary indulgence but it is perhaps one of the most useful garments you can buy. Wearing a winter coat beyond mid-March when the light often changes dramatically can feel very lowering and you can put it on it in the evenings all year round. A pale coat over a black or red party dress always looks fresh and interesting. Think of a Flemish princess riding a bicycle to a family picnic, secure in the knowledge that it’s her royal duty to make life more cheerful for her fellow country folk.

I haven't actually acquired the coat. It costs the same as a small second hand car, although I’m no driver. But I’ve found something a bit similar in my wardrobe in cream wool boucle with a bow at the back and I’ll wear it with confidence to school tonight and if anyone even remembers let alone refers to that incident with the jelly in the bookcorner I’ll genuinely eat my hat.

Susie Boyt’s latest novel ONLY HUMAN is published by Headline Review.