Going troppo

Hard though it is to believe that I'll soon be basking in 26-plus degrees, a pile of summer clothes waits on the spare bed to be packed. I'm thrilled by the prospect of a week of Vanuatu's sea and sun, and all-round self-indulgence, but I can't help wondering why summer clothes are so much less interesting to me than winter.

It comes down to fabric and texture, I think - a certain lack of substance that, necessarily, carries through into design. Summery clothes are soft, flimsier, girlier. They gather and flare rather than fit to form. They need ironing. And I hate getting the ironing board out of the cupboard as much as I hate getting out the vaccuum cleaner.

Nevertheless, I did pick up a heavyish cream cotton Starfish skirt the other day from Madison Rose. A wide dropped waistband, with a few narrow unpressed pleats rather than gathers (which will always look 70s peasanty to me), and huge interior pockets. It looks nice on and will be just the job for a hot climate. Its secret joy, though, is the standard of workmanship that's gone into it.

The wide hem isn't just turned up - it's faced with a cream patterned silky fabric, as are the pockets and the waistband. As a former sewer, I notice these things and usually have to avert my eyes from the inside of cheap buys. The Starfish skirt was made in New Zealand, and the care with which it's been sewn puts up right up there with winter clothes.

I have another gorgeous summer skirt I bought in Sydney some time last year with T. She bought one too. The fabric is a glorious swirl of colour. Unfortunately the cotton is so fine that Wellington offers few opportunities to wear it. That coupled with the fact that even on the warmest days here the wind can catch you and instantly turn a garment like this into an embrrassing unwrap-around. Whereas I bet, over in Sydney, T has worn hers to death.

Meanwhile, outside it continues boots and coat weather. Which reminds me that sandals will never ever outdo boots and shoes for real style, either.