“You can’t go out in that!” Andy had her hands on her hips; she meant business.

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” She was referring to an old T-shirt in whose company I felt as relaxed as if it were an old friend.

Sure the T-shirt was faded and maybe even slightly ragged here and there, but that gave it more street cred. For me wearing something that looks brand spanking new can be slightly naff. I used to fall into the trap of buying a new holiday wardrobe every time we went on holiday. So that from the moment I stepped off the plane I smelled and looked like a shiny new person. The problem with this was that the clothes of all the most interesting people I ever met always had a faded, worn look. You felt that you could sit down with one of their T-shirts alone and it could tell you a whole load of fascinating yarns.

Therefore, the more faded my clothes become, the closer I come to reaching a windswept and interesting nirvana – that’s what I told myself anyway. The truth is, if you’re Charlie Brown, you’re Charlie Brown.

In the year before we moved here I stocked up on what I thought were ‘travellers’ type clothes. For 6 years most of them have remained in my wardrobe relatively unworn except for their annual Carnaval outing when, devoid of inspiration, we dress up as hippies. I’m a suit person at heart really, yet I’ve never worn one here – it’s too hot despite what anyone will tell you about the north of Tenerife. So most of the time it’s T-shirts and light pants; although since Casino Royale  I’ve decided that Daniel Craig’s smart but coolly casual style is right up my street. Anyway I digress.

“What’s up with it?”

“That. That’s what’s up with it,” Andy pulled at the bottom of the T-shirt and held it out so that I could see.

There was a line of holes, each progressively bigger than the last. Daddy moth, mummy moth and the kids had obviously had a right old meal.

“Oh… I hadn’t noticed those.”

It was a feeble excuse; you could stick your finger through the biggest of the holes.

“You need some new clothes.”

“I’m sure I bought some new T-shirts not so long ago,” you can take the boy out of Scotland, but you can’t take Scotland out of the boy. The idea of spending money on something as frivolous as clothes brought me out in a sweat.

We did a quick calculation and worked out that it was over two years since I’d bought any T-shirts (I’ve had ones since, but as presents), so an emergency trip to La Villa shopping centre in La Orotava was arranged.

An hour later I emerged with 2 polo shirts and 1 T-shirt from Zara; 2 T-shirts from Springfield and a pair of trousers from Pull & Bear.

And the total cost? €30 – those sort of prices I can live with.

Now I’ll have to wear them about the house for a few weeks before I go out in public to get rid of that shiny new look.

  1. Good prices! I wonder if a trip to Tenerife would make financial sense?

  2. popu says:

    shopping and open free shop

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