My frump suit scares all the boys from the yard
Damn right, I dress like your nan.
My name's Mim, and I'm a frump. And you know what? I like being a frump. There are some women who manage to be vintage and sexy – not just Dita von Teese, but regular ladies, who have a touch of Marilyn or Rita or Clara Bow about them. They have gorgeous high-heeled shoes and saucy pencil skirts and red lips and they work it. Me, I'm channelling Margaret Rutherford, possibly Miss Lemon on a good day. I wear jumpers and vintage-style but comfy shoes, and when I read old magazines and pattern books I realise that my figure looks more like the ones in the very few patterns 'for the mature woman' or 'for the fuller figure' than it does like the pretty ones in the rest of the book. (Well, nuts to that, I know how to resize a pattern; if I want to knit the pretty thing, I shall!)
I am making an effort to look a little more stylish, but I think I'll always be a frump. I really can't be doing with shoes that make my feet hurt, and I have too much front to go bra-less, so I've said sayonara to strappy and strapless tops and frocks. A thick waist and small hips render pencil skirts pointless. So I have made the decision to Work The Frump. Why not? I can pin my enormous blingy brooches to my shift dresses, look for smart suits with fascinating details, have fun knitting my own jumpers and wearing them, and do all the things I enjoy doing, from book shopping to the Charleston, in my comfy shoes. Yeah. Being a frump – it's awesome!