How my world got slightly shattered on Saturday.

[grondfic]

 So — my clothing-style (for going-out anyway) has been set for many years. My go-to style is the Scandi-folk-chic of Gudrun Sjøden. 

So — Gudrun's shop in London has been closed for refurbishment during July; but I got an invite to a re-opening event on Saturday, plus a chance to see the new autumn collection.

Central London in August is rammed (and that's BEFORE you look through to Trafalgar Square and see the regular PEACEFUL protest — more like a festival — taking place for Gaza). So I fought my way up St Martin's Lane, bypassing the regular matinee queue at the Duke of York for THAT (Spiderman)  Romeo, and then The Noel Coward where we shall visit for 'Slave Play' on Wednesday.

The smallish shop was rammed too. I managed to grab the couple of things I wanted for the autumn (GOLD velour trousers, my dears! — watch out for me in October), and made it to checkout, where a group of people were blocking the way taking photos.

It was only whilst involved in the intricacies of paying-up that I realised just WHO was being photographed; and ... that they were handing her my purchases to give to me.

Yup, that was the Founder in person. Gudrun herself — serving me!

Naturally I was dead embarrassing in my fulsomeness; which Gudrun took with cool Scandi stoicism.

After that, I hastily consumed a cold fizzy elderflower drink; and left in a daze. Total time expended on the experience — about 25 minutes.

I have to record it, because this woman has had more BASIC effect on my life and self-image than .... ooh ... Gareth Southgate or Guy of Gisburne

*runs and hides*