The English summer is the ultimate flirt.
The week before last she was all over the place in all her winking, pouting,
hair-tossing glory. Now she’s withdrawn, she’s not returning calls and there’re
some malicious rumours about her on the Daily Mail website.
Now summer may have backtracked but I cannot. I have entered into a committed relationship with my summer wardrobe and I am not a slut. The thing is that summer skirts and white-T-shirts are best accessorised with glossy tanned legs- a persistent problem for the British population (me amongst them), more naturally inclined to goose flesh and pallor.
Now us Brits normally get round this problem by heading abroad. A good roasting in the med normally ensures that for at least two weeks of the year we can wear those pastel hot pants with pride, as despite the lashing rain and gale force winds, our skin retains some memory of mid-twenties heat.
Only my holiday this year is a staycation in Hackney. You may laugh but just over a week ago, as the sun beat down on Victoria Park, Mills (flat mate) and I glowed with smugness at our foresight and economy. With temperatures topping those in Ibiza I’d have the tan necessary to carry off those gold sandals with aplomb.
Unfortunately this was not to be and although I am gut wrenchingly disappointed at the unsettled conditions, I am not altogether unprepared. Past flings with the British summer have taught me to be resourceful and so, a little like the pensioners that hoard bread before a snowfall, I have stocked up with fake-tan.
And at least the money I have saved on exceeding my Ryanair baggage allowance means that I have purchased, with very minimal guilt, the grand dame of fake-tan- St. Tropez.
Yes at £20.43, it is a little pricier than Rimmel wash-off but it’s good. There are a number of varieties; sprays, lotions and mousses, available in natural and darker tones. Wanting to avoid looking like an extra from Gypsey Weddings, I opted for the lighter variety of mousse. This is feather light, quick drying and thankfully makes you appear instantly browner. This is opposed to some varieties that mature, taking you from delicately bronzed to wallowed-in-the-Thames over the course of a day.
Consequently I managed my first dalliance with St. Tropez with relative success. Apart from a few streaks on my back, which washed off with the first shower, I have achieved an even, golden glow, promised to last at least three days before a top-up application is needed.
As with most products there are a few drawbacks- not so much flaws as things to watch out for. Although not overpoweringly scented, there is still a whiff of the biscuit about it. This has to be endured for at least four hours basting time before your first shower. During this time you may also appear slightly streaky but worry not at these evaporate along with the digestive cravings.
Altogether this is a rave review. A fantastic product that, if not the antidote, at least treats the symptoms of our great British summer.
Now summer may have backtracked but I cannot. I have entered into a committed relationship with my summer wardrobe and I am not a slut. The thing is that summer skirts and white-T-shirts are best accessorised with glossy tanned legs- a persistent problem for the British population (me amongst them), more naturally inclined to goose flesh and pallor.
Now us Brits normally get round this problem by heading abroad. A good roasting in the med normally ensures that for at least two weeks of the year we can wear those pastel hot pants with pride, as despite the lashing rain and gale force winds, our skin retains some memory of mid-twenties heat.
Only my holiday this year is a staycation in Hackney. You may laugh but just over a week ago, as the sun beat down on Victoria Park, Mills (flat mate) and I glowed with smugness at our foresight and economy. With temperatures topping those in Ibiza I’d have the tan necessary to carry off those gold sandals with aplomb.
Unfortunately this was not to be and although I am gut wrenchingly disappointed at the unsettled conditions, I am not altogether unprepared. Past flings with the British summer have taught me to be resourceful and so, a little like the pensioners that hoard bread before a snowfall, I have stocked up with fake-tan.
And at least the money I have saved on exceeding my Ryanair baggage allowance means that I have purchased, with very minimal guilt, the grand dame of fake-tan- St. Tropez.
Yes at £20.43, it is a little pricier than Rimmel wash-off but it’s good. There are a number of varieties; sprays, lotions and mousses, available in natural and darker tones. Wanting to avoid looking like an extra from Gypsey Weddings, I opted for the lighter variety of mousse. This is feather light, quick drying and thankfully makes you appear instantly browner. This is opposed to some varieties that mature, taking you from delicately bronzed to wallowed-in-the-Thames over the course of a day.
Consequently I managed my first dalliance with St. Tropez with relative success. Apart from a few streaks on my back, which washed off with the first shower, I have achieved an even, golden glow, promised to last at least three days before a top-up application is needed.
As with most products there are a few drawbacks- not so much flaws as things to watch out for. Although not overpoweringly scented, there is still a whiff of the biscuit about it. This has to be endured for at least four hours basting time before your first shower. During this time you may also appear slightly streaky but worry not at these evaporate along with the digestive cravings.
Altogether this is a rave review. A fantastic product that, if not the antidote, at least treats the symptoms of our great British summer.
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