Many years ago, when I still had a hope of pulling teenage boys, I went to a dinner party with some school friends. In among us was a girl who was impossibly stylish, so much so, that she had few girlfriends. At the end of the evening we shared a taxi: I was going home; she was going on to a glamorous party. As the journey progressed, it started to rain with biblical ferocity. As we approached her venue we remarked on how she would get soaked in the few short seconds it would take for her to run to the door. I was keen to see how the most stylish girl in the world would cope with this.
"Put your bag over your head," I suggested helpfully. She shot me a look that mixed disbelief with pity and said, "My bag's worth more than I am" (it was a Hermès Birkin bag). As it happened, there was a line of boys holding umbrellas and waiting to shepherd her in to the party without a single droplet of rain staining her, though her white Gucci loafers were ruined. I learned a valuable lesson then: unless you have a vanguard of admirers sporting golfing brollies, you can never hope to look good in a heavy downpour, so just don't try.
This parable - for that is what it has become - has kept me in good stead this past month as we experienced the wettest May for 23 years, and I have simply not tried to be cleverer than the weather. Rain is the one type of weather that's bigger than fashion: it is the great equaliser. If it doesn't dictate what you wear, it will dictate how you end up looking (drenched) and, very possibly, how you end up smelling (of wet wool).
The first harsh truth when dressing for rain is that Gore-Tex is the only fabric that will keep out the rain and wind but also free your perspiration. But while Gore-Tex has clever DNA, it's an ugly bugger and is used for performance, not fashion: if you find an attractive application of it, take a picture and send it to me, for such sightings are as rare as baby pigeons. Second, belted trench coats look good only on women with the figure of Audrey Hepburn, although, unfairly, almost all men look good in them, if a little suspect. Third, no matter how much time and money you throw at making your body look good in a storm, there's the matter of your head and your feet.
It matters little if you've spent £800 on a Bamford mac (which has myriad tiny pleats in the back vent, as delicate as a palmier biscuit). If you've forgotten your umbrella and you're not wearing wellies - and who does, over the age of seven and outside of the countryside? - your peripheral bits will be soaked and dripping and no one will notice your fancy mac. (Although at the moment, judging by the young male characters in Coronation Street - the very best programme on television - that "hair plastered to head" look is very fashionable among young men.)
However, there is one beautifying aspect to rain: it accentuates the eyelashes beautifully, making them appear thicker and longer than any mascara can. It's just a shame that everyone else is too wet to notice.
