I heart the Winter Olympics.
There’s nothing as cathartic as sitting my hind quarters down, grabbing a Frosty Fruit and placing empty bets with Dad on which Athlete of Russia will be caught doping next – apparently all of them. What’s not to like?
When the curtains closed on the spectacle that was, I fell into a sad state of lowly depression. Not even smashing a Frosty Fruit or trying to cash in those bets I dropped with fazher could cheer me up.
Out of sheer desperation and in dire need of a pick-me-up, I turned to the only thing I knew would heal me – retail therapy. It was there, in the depths of the interwebs that I found the band aid I needed.
This glorious With Jean number is not sartorially satisfying, but it’s as patriotic as an American – green and gold baby! Gold medal for this frock.