I have a secret hobby. Well, it’s not really a secret as some people do know about it (possibly including people who regularly read this blog, as I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned it before on here. If I could get to grips with tagging better then I’d be able to find out!). Anyway, I suppose it’s more of a surprise hobby – at least people always seem surprised when they learn about it. I am an avid football fan. I don’t support a particular team; I just follow it – individual matches, club news, the business and culture surrounding the sport – like others watch soap operas. In many ways, I think the whole thing is like a giant continuing drama (‘continuing drama’ – can you tell that I caught a glimpse ofThe British Soap Awards 2012earlier?!).
Anyway (again), this time in the football season is all about league position: who’s going up (Southampton), who’s going down (Wolves), who’s ‘safe’ (Fulham, who’s position was boosted further after their shock defeat of Liverpool last night). I like to transfer metaphors from one area of life to another, especially if it challenges conventional gender expectations, and earlier today I found myself thinking about my wardrobe in terms of football leagues. My clothes are divided into two: the Premiership (the First Division, if you’re being old school) and the Championship (aka Division Two). The former contains my absolute favourite items that I wear continually. The latter are clothes that I don’t like as much. I realised part way through my last major sartorial purge that if I chucked everything I was planning on getting rid of then I wouldn’t have enough stuff left, so these were rescued from the ‘maybe’ pile.
The two leagues of clothing are literally divided in my wardrobe; one on the right, one on the left. Despite this clear visual demaraction, though, certain items can find themselves languishing on the bench until they suddenly get their moment of glory and find themselves shooting up the table (I realise that this last sentence compares a piece of clothing to an individual player and then to a team, but football pundits are allowed to mix and muddle their analogies until they become meaningless, so I feel I should do likewise). Today, my black trousers have experienced such a turnaround in fortunes. They are a seven-eighth length peg shape style, purchased in early autumn last year from Topshop. I haven’t worn them in a while, hence had forgotten how much I like them. At 645 am, I was experiencing getting dressed confusion and ended up grabbing them for the want of obvious other alternatives. And what a great choice! I’ve spent the whole day looking down on them, feeling very pleased with my selection. They’re a good team player too, providing excellent support to a black-and-white chiffon blouse on loan from a lower league. I just hope that Roy Hodgson, new England manager, is as successful with his choices.