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| Matthew Williamson @ Net-a-Porter.com |
It’s that time of year again. The inaugural summer holiday booking season has begun. Where to go? Who to go with? And most importantly, what to pack? Clickini.com is winging a selection of Betty-Paige inspired two-pieces to chez Kimmage as we speak. As for that pesky 10kg clothing allowance? Just call me McGyver. Done and done. Er...not quite. One critical question still hangs in the balance – when do we go? You see, there’s a rumour afoot that Ireland may only see sun in the month of June. July and August? Welly time. Personally, I’d like to increase the cost-per-wear ratio of my silk backless jumpsuit; not to mention the pile of pristine maxi dresses waiting to fulfil their manifest destiny. Booking that Costa del Sol break later in the summer can only mean two things – kids and humidity. Not that I have anything against kids, I just don’t want tone splashing pool water into my margarita. As for humidity, one drop and my hair expands like Ready Brek. (Think J-Lo ‘The Early Years’.)
This isn’t a fair trade-off. Now I’m forced into actually watching weather reports on RTE, BBC and Sky, and reading the Farmer’s Almanac to see if there’s the slightest possibility this rumour could be just trash talk. A few things I’ve noted: the worse the weather, the more avant-garde Jean Byrne’s clothing choices. Good call on the use of metallics when telling us global warming has dealt us the short straw. Also, Xpose made reference recently to a Donegal postman who claims this year will be tantamount to the Elysian summer of 1995. Aisling O’Loughlin – the heat’s on you missus, if you’re even a centrigrade off the mark! The last thing I want is to be greeted at Dublin Airport with grey skies and the sympathetic (yet smug) quip, “It was so sunny while you were away!”
If it so happens that we’ll relive another Irish ‘summer’, I’ve invested in some back-up threads. Next to my diaphanous floaty tunics are some slick-as-Rick tribal and animal print ponchos (£55) from Rainwave.co.uk. One hundred per cent waterproof and kitted out with their own travel bag, these bad boys stick two manicured fingers up to the sky. Sure, I’ll be grumbling, my tan may have faded but dammit I’ll look fabulous!
