A LONG TIME AGO IN THE LAND OF FASHION, there lived on the fringes a short model whose diminutive stature was somehow not quite special enough to make her the next Kate Moss.  She specialised in Marks and Spencers bra packets and did no credible work whatsoever except for a video for Bella Freud which no one ever saw and an OMD video which was rather lovely, but sadly, not a hit for OMD, so no one ever saw that either.  

Anyway… one day, her chance came, when standing around in the agency in a big coat, (so as not to look too fat), she happened to catch the eye of her agent, who was in a tizz because the top mixed race girl had overslept, or overeaten or overdosed, or something, but anyway, she wasn’t ready to catch the plane to Paris and work the Helen Storey stand that weekend.  Who else could be the right shade of caffe latte?  Who could stand in for the overeater/sleeper/doser?  Step forward.. yes, you guessed it, moi. 

(Bear with me, I’m getting to the bit about the wardrobe makeover)

Off I went, excited to be doing something so… fashionable, and I met the wonderful, beautiful, and very fashionable Liz Edwards.  Of course we bonded - how could we not?  Dressed, as we were,  in bronze quilted hotpants with matching bronze quilted bra-top and matching bronze quilted bomber jacket?  What better basis for a friendship is there?  

After Paris, there was a month in Milan together, where Liz worked with the likes of Corinne Day and appeared in The Face on a regular basis as well as numerous glossy and very credible Italian mags, while I.. er.. got flashed at twice in one day.  (Is this a world record, I wonder?  And no, I wasn’t still wearing the quilted bronze Helen Storey outfit). (Although I did also play table football with one of the team from Inter Milan).  

Years later, here we are, and Liz is now the founder of Babet Style Consultancy.   She’s put her down-to-earth manner and fashion experience to good use, and apart from the fact that annoyingly she is still very long and thin and beautiful, she’s the perfect person to come and be a wardrobe fairy godmother.  She had intrigued me by talking about Uniqlo, about padded hangers, bright bangles, and was always wearing something I just had to have from Top Shop.  

She’s certainly no label snob, although she’s as happy to indulge in a little net-a-porter shopping like the rest of us.  But I still didn’t know exactly what she did, apart from turn up on her Vespa looking far too glamorous for someone who has just braved the elements.  So I invited her over to take a look at my wardrobe. 

Which got me thinking.  What was wrong with my wardrobe?  I liked my clothes, didn’t I? And yet.. there was that long white velvet floral print Anna Sui dress I could never find the right shoes for, the problem of what flat shoes to wear with jeans if you have a fat arse and a four-inch shortage in leg-length, what to do with those coloured bangles and other pieces of jewellery that collected dust, in fact, really, there were quite a few things that were bugging me. 

Liz opens my wardrobe and starts with, “You just didn’t read my newsletter did you?  You need matching hangers!”  It’s true, hangers are not a big priority for me.  I’d rather spend the money on… I don’t know, paperclips or something.  But apparently hangers should be a big priority.  

Boring as they are, Liz gets quite excited about hangers. “You see, ideally you’d go for wooden hangers, but they take up too much space.  I know it sounds anal, but when all your stuff is on the same type of hanger, it all hangs at the same level and it’s much easier to keep your wardrobe looking tidy and find the things you want to wear.”  

“And I can’t believe you don’t have a full-length mirror,” she goes on.

“I have that one in the hall,” I say, referring to the Venetian glass mirror that er.. isn’t full-length at all, come to think of it.

 ”But you can’t see your whole outfit in it, can you?”  

“Er. .no.”  It occurs to me that some of my issues with what shoes to wear with what dress might not exist, had I a full-length mirror. 

“And you need vacuum bags - you can get them from my website - and a de-bobbler for your cardigans to trim down the fluff.  And what’s this?”

“A er.. cream cardigan,” I say.  It’s a long, cream cardigan that isn’t 100% wool, so I’ve never worn it. I am a wool snob and I bought this in a moment of trying to be a bit more at-one-with-the-acrylic-people.   “You see, I had this vision that I could waft about in a long cream cardigan, over baggy cream cords, with a..” 

“Visions. Not good.  That’s what people who shop in Jigsaw have.  Visions.  They see the 20-something shop assistant and have a vision that if they bought what she’s wearing, they’ll look like her too.”  She’s right about that too.  I used to buy from Jigsaw in my twenties, but now.. who buys from there?  ”My guess is that you don’t wear this very often because it’s not a particularly good quality, it’s not real wool, so let’s get rid of it.”   I haven’t worn it in years. 

Gradually a pile is formed of clothes that need re-hanging on plastic hangers.  The wire ones from the dry cleaners form a pile on the floor that will be soon transferred to the bin.  

I try on most of the clothes before they go back, and several, well, sadly, they don’t go back.  Ever.  They go to the Ebay/charity shop pile.  

A denim jacket that makes me look really..look there’s no other word for it… dykey, raises a few laughs.  ”10-4 Big buddy!” laughs Liz.  A See by Chloe black cord skirt that’s too big and shapeless gets rejected for looking totally frumpy. A long black velvet Plein Sud skirt is put in a separate pile of things-I-don’t-wear-very-much-but-don’t-want-to-put-into-long-term-storage-as-I-might-need-it-for-when-I-get-that-job-playing-the-flute-in-an-orchestra. 

There’s one top that doesn’t even make it to the Oxfam pile.  Liz is laughing. Her head off.  ”What’s this?” She pulls out a cream top with elasticated sleeves and low round neckline.  ”It’s like an old towel, it’s like you really can’t be bothered, it’s like you’ve just had a baby and aren’t going to be seeing anyone for the next five weeks!”  My kids have arrived back at school at this point, and they look at her, at me, at the top, and say, “Mummy… shes’ right.  It’s not nice that top.”  ”Cut it up and put it under the sink for polishing windows,” she says. 

Not having a full-length mirror, Liz is proving to be very useful for casting a professional eye over my trouser collection.  It seems I have a habit of buying trousers from Paul & Joe and then never wearing them.  I ask her opinion of one pair of straight-leg black trousers, with a self-embossed (I am SURE that’s the wrong term for them) floral pattern.  ”Do you think they’re a bit Laurence Llewellyn-Bowen?”  But Liz thinks they should stay as summer trousers, worn with a Birkenstock or FitFlop and she’s right, they look great.  ”I can’t wear them in winter then?  I had visions of wearing them with heels but the tailor lopped too much off the hem. Can’t I wear them with Converse?”  

Liz has a theory about this.  ”The problem is,” she says, “that to wear them with Converse you need enough length in the trouser to slump over the shoe.  These sit just about the shoe, so they cut your legs off.  It works with bare feet, but not with Converse.”  Summer trousers then.  But not at all Laurence Llewellyn Bowen. 

Another pair of trousers which look totally frumpy on the hanger turn out to be a perfect cut on, when worn with shoe-boots.  ”But don’t wear them with knee high boots as the boot will disrupt the flow of the trouser,” she advises.  

And my third pair of P&J trousers, which are a beautiful light-weight wool with pleats at the front she suggests putting aside until I’ve lost another two pounds or so in weight.  ”I’m not normally one to say that at all, but because they have pleats at the front they are less flattering.  You are better in flat-fronted trousers.” 

As she continues to sweep through, she picks out a gold lame t-shirt I bought in Portobello market years ago.  ”Try this on,” she says.  I pull it on, it’s a top that I like, that is a great colour, but for some reason I can’t put my finger on I never wear it.  It ticks all the boxes, but it just doesn’t work.  Is my bust too big for it, I wonder? 

“No, it’s not that .  It’s the neck-line.  It’s cut too high for you.  But it’s worth altering,” she says, taking out her pins and marking a new, slightly lower neck-line that is much more flattering, based on a top from Trina Turk that I have that I know really works. 

Liz comments on the fact that I have a lot of dresses.  Clearly at some point in my life I thought I was going to be attending a lot of Oscar type events.  (See Princess Fantasy).  It reminds me that one of the problems I have is dressing down.  I often feel I look like Michelle Obama, and while I love her look, she’s the President’s wife, and I am not.  

Liz says I should think of Angelina Jolie at the Oscars.  ”She wore a plain dress but was big on accessories.”  Actually, this wasn’t my favourite look at the Oscars.  I would have gone for something with a little more bells on, but there you go, that’s why I’m always overdressed.  Or not overdressed so much, but the one in a Vivienne Westwood halter dress when everyone else is in jeans and a top. 

“Get a little vest from American Apparel to wear under things like this dress from Paul & Joe,” says Liz.  It’s hardly rocket science, but it’s what’s stopped me from wearing that particular dress more often, a navy, lightweight wool tie-dress with bat sleeves and a very low v-neckline.  ”That way your boobs won’t keep falling out on the school run,” she adds. A cream silk camisole is also suggested for a top that I bought in Reiss years ago and never wore because of boob-fallout. 

At this point, Jon the cello teacher arrives for music lessons, so we stop.  Liz gives me homework - I have to buy shoe boxes, hangers, vacuum bags.  I must take a bag of clothes to the invisible menders, and another bag to the dry cleaners.  I must clean the mud off my Jimmy Choo suede boots that has been on them for at least two years, possibly longer. She’ll be back to go through my cupboards next, and that huge pile of clothes under the bed that are waiting for summer to arrive. 

It’s been fun, we ate a great leek and potato soup that I made, and I can’t tell you how lovely it is to have someone pull all the stuff out of your wardrobe then hang it back again for you in some kind of order.  But I feel we’ve only just started. It’s inspired me, and I’m off to the invisible menders straight away, and ordering my boxes, bags and hangers on-line.  

But this is the tip of the iceberg.  Will our friendship survive?  Will she like my acid yellow Jaeger trapeze dress that’s hiding under the bed?  And why did my cowboy belt have to go?  For all this and more, stay tuned.  Liz will be back with Part Two in about a month.  As ever, let me know what you think! 

Liz’s tips: 

* When things are hanging in the wardrobe do the buttons up.  It keeps them hanging flatter.

* Knitwear should be on padded hangers.

* Buy clear shoe boxes

* The best 70 denier opaque tights are from Wolford or Falke.  Wear them with shoe boots if you’re worried that shoe boots will give you cankles.