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More than once, Ive been described as shady, but as this hot summer goes on, Ive cranked it up to epic proportions.
This doesn’t mean Im now judging your every move and calling you out on your behaviour, it means that this Queen of Shade is taking her moniker literally and, for the good of her health, staying out of the sun.
And thats not just for the sake of a good too; a skin cancer scare meant I am now embracing the pale for good.
A trip to Tesco for a pint of milk now entails a full layer of SPF50 before leaving the house.
And as temperatures nudge towards the 40 degrees, Im never without my wide-brimmed Joan Collins sunhat, my Jackie O dinner-plate sunglasses, or my 40-a-time sunblock facial mist spray.
While others are navigating the summer temperatures with strappy tops, shorts and flip-flops, Im swathed head to toe in faux-Egyptian cotton, like a Jane Austen heroine, twirling my parasol and coquettishly fluttering my lace hand fan.
Yes, Im single-handedly bringing back Regency Chic.
A pale-skinned filly, Ive never been what you might call a sun worshipper, but in my more nave youth, I spent months hittingching across the Australian outback and the plains of Southern India, without so much as a drop of cream, going totally commando skins.
Those carefree days did indeed result in some sun-induced discolouration of my skin, which has faded over time and never gave me cause for concern.
At the height of lockdown in April 2020, however, I noticed a dark patch on my face that seemed to be spreading at an alarming rate.
The mandatory glance at Dr Google definitely confirmed my worst fears this could be skin cancer and I needed to get it looked at quickly.
After a couple of worrying months of phone-only consultations, sending various medical professionals badly lit photos taken in my kitchen of my ever-growing dark patch, it was determined Id need a biopsy and I was at last seen face-to-face, quite literally, by a dermatologist that August.
As I lay on a gurney, a scalpel-wielding operative gleefully sliced into my right cheek.
I watched in shock as he passed the piece of flesh hed just cut from my face right in front of my eyes before nonchalantly plopping it in a little plastic container. A piece of my face, which Id become quite accustomed to over the years, was now in a pot. And I could have skin cancer.
I’ve had better Saturdays.
Luckily my biopsy showed no signs of cancer, but the scar it left is a constant reminder that I need to take better care of myself where the suns concerned.
Achieving that sun bronzed look is still fashionable though, and that comes with its own pressure.
TV shows like Love Island perpetuate beauty tropes that not only should we all be garrotting our derrieres with cheese-wire bikini bottoms, but that our ubiquitous drawn-on eyebrows and dazzlingly white teeth must be accompanied by a deep mahogany glow, whatever our natural skin Colour.
Thats certainly a change from entertainment of the past.
I can hardly imagine Elizabeth Bennet walking round in a g-string. If she had, it certainly wouldnt have taken her 61 chapters to bag Mr Darcy.
In the Regency England of Pride and Prejudice, it was the height of fashion to stay out of the sun to achieve a lily-white complexion, while sun-kissed faces belonged to manual labourers.
Its only in the last 50 years that tanning, in all its various forms, has been considered hot.
I for one am happy to stay pale and interesting while doing my best Emma Woodhouse and in many warmer cultures they know the value of dressing to keep the sun out and the cool air in.
Since deciding to go full Bridgerton, Ive found some beautiful clothes that not only cover my extremities, but always garner envious comments from others who are sweltering with skin on show.
And since I started twirling my parasol on my morning commute, Ive now noticed my fellow passengers tentatively unfurling a lightweight brolly as they alight onto a sunny station platform.
I hope its only a matter of time before my fashions catch on; a floor-length dress also hides a multitude of sins you dont have to hold in your gut, you can let your leg hair grow to full pelt and you can pass wind with total discretion.
Its a win-win.
As we swelter in the blistering heat of the UKs highest-ever recorded temperatures this summer, its become apparent that we can no longer take risks with the sun.
Thats not just true for me after my scare, but for everyone.
Climate change is forcing our hands. The world is dangerously heating up and its down to us to take precautions to protect ourselves.
So Im happy to slap on the SPF, embrace my shady side, channel my inner Jane Eyre and celebrate my whiter shade of pale.
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Sources 2/ https://metro.co.uk/2022/08/12/get-out-the-parasol-and-don-a-maxi-dress-its-cool-to-stay-shady-17159010/ The mention sources can contact us to remove/changing this article |
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