It’s not very glamorous, I know, but I’ve always loved aprons. Some
people mark the day’s gradual demise into evening by swigging on a martini, others doff their work clothes and slip into something more comfortable and less flattering as darkness falls. When it’s time for me to put away work and turn my back on the pesky cares of the day what I really like is to feel an apron’s strings tightly secured round my middle. Aprons are such dazzling multi-taskers. What other garment both holds you together, gives you an air of brisk efficency, presents your nearest and dearest with an alluring hint of hot
dinners to come whilst protecting your good clothes? I have a selection of aprons in a cupboard downstairs that I’m quite proud of, different styles for different moods. You wouldnt wear the same shoes to a 6 year old’s princess tea party as you would to a grown up dinner, and so it goes with pinnies. I have childish gingham edged Italian market finds with chicken and geese embroidered on the front; a pristine white chef’s cover-all from Denny’s of Soho,with Susie embroidered in italic white script on its dry cotton lustre, a beautiful pink checked half apron with my name appliquéd on the front by my friend Isabel, a nineteen forties celadon linen printed with postcards of seaside escapades as well as the more prosaic, the navy and white striped number which smacks of sawdust and butcher’s shops, the cheery red and white polka dot which makes you think of Christmas.

Last weekend, however, with 12 friends expected in the evening for food, it struck me that I did not possess the perfect apron to accompany the black lace Collette Dinnigan evening dress I was planning to wear. Something had to be done. I went straight to what is one of my favourite clothing stores in the world Alexandra, in Hanover Square, which specialises in uniforms. I was thinking of a rounded and fairly brief half apron with possibly a little broiderie anglaise frill. My muse was Polly from Fawlty Towers, attractive, feminine and funny. The last time I visited Alexandra it was to purchase a white coat and a stethoscope for my husband to wear to a fancy dress party. The odd thing was that throughout the evening numerous guests approached him to outline their assorted ailments and seek advice. However many times he murmered politely ‘I am not a doctor; this is a fancy dress party,’ no-one would quite
believe him. The enquiries came thicker and faster until I actually overheard him giving someone advice about vitamins and minerals, exercise and stress management - it had seemed to him, finally, the only decent thing to do. On this occasion I found what I was looking for straight away, the slightly dressy apron of my dreams. Ideally it would have been fashioned from starched linen or even silk organdie or organza rather than poly-cotton but apart from that it
was perfect, as was the price which was a highly reasonable £3.58 inc VAT. I took 2 over to the cash desk.
‘ Is it for a play or a shoot?’ the assistant asked me.
‘ No,’ I replied, ‘it’s for when you’re cooking and you don’t want to get your clothes mucky.’ She gave me a queer look as though I’d said the oddest thing.

After I paid I surveyed the ranks of dresses on sale, the sort of garments sported by nurses and dinner ladies, dental assistants and high class nannies all over the world. The colours were gorgeous, tiny lilac checks, pink and white candy stripes, sky blue with navy piping, some even sported contrasting white collar and double cuffs. Could any selection of garments represent more thoroughly a sense of safety and care? If you owned them all, I calculated rashly, nothing bad would ever ever happen to you again. I fingered them lightly. Were these garments so very different from the button through shirt-waisters spotted on the catwalks for this season everywhere from Michael Kors to Miu Miu? These dresses were made of extremely high quality fabric and there was no doubt as to their durability. With the most miniscule of adjustments to the side seams couldn’t they equal or even surpass the elegantly casual day dresses seen at Ralph Lauren for £700 which I’ve been hankering after? Wouldn’t it be far chicer to purchase the utilitarian inspiration for these fashion clothes rather than the extravagant re-interpreations? I glanced at the price tags. Most of the dresses were about £35. I bought a navy and white striped version, with stiff collar and A line skirt; resolving to make the skirt slightly narrower that evening and wear it to a lunch with friends the following day. I would tie a navy gross grain ribbon above the waist in a bow, insert a crumpled silk and velvet flower into the knot, then add a black patent bag and matching heels. The worst that could happen is I’d be mistaken
for a staff nurse. What could be nicer? Although perhaps I’d better brush up my first aid before I go.