TED BAKER AND MY DOUGH

Ted. Baker. 

Where have you been the past 30 years of my life? I cannot believe that I am coming to the end of my sixth decade and the fashion line has never crossed my radar. Maybe because TB has connotations of nasty illnesses; maybe it’s because, 30 years ago, I was too busy discovering the Issey Miyake Pleats Please range; or maybe it’s because, until yesterday, I thought that Ted Baker was a fashion line in men’s suits.

   

It was a name that always brought to mind “catalogue acting”. You know the kind of thing: ridiculously groomed men sitting akimbo on a chair while trying to sell us a watch/after shave/pin stripe suit.

   

Or maybe it was because I thought that Ted might be the less successful brother of ex-Doctor Who actor Tom Baker – the brother in the shadows who harboured dreams of living life in a Tardis but couldn’t hack gravity and compromised by going into men’s fashion.

   

Anyway, now I know. Ted. Baker. My healthy bank balance as I know it is over.

   

In New York, I belong to various societies and clubs, and one of the most successful and active is the St George’s Society. Their functions raise thousands for so many charities, and to attend one of their major events is to be humbled by hearing of the extraordinary hardships so many less fortunate than ourselves have to endure.

   

Last night, I was invited to a champagne and nibbles event at the Ted Baker store on 5^th Avenue. I nearly didn’t go. What did I want with a man’s suit? But one of the most glorious things about New York (and there are more I discover on a daily basis) is that it is easy to meet people and make friends in the most unlikely circumstances.

   

To be honest, I was going for that: the social mingling and the free food and drink. Then a dress caught my eye. A stunning white, floaty creation with embroidered birds and leaves. And there was a matching cardigan, too. And OMG, SHOES! It’s not often that free champagne takes a back seat to anything in my life, but this was truly a Eureka! moment.

   

I genuinely don’t shop a lot. I don’t like the music, the crowds, and breaking the zips struggling in and out of things designed for a bonsai tribe. I spend money mainly on travel and socialising, and, in recent years, I’ve been buying very cheap clothes and shoes online. On the rare occasions I have been clothes shopping in the past, it hasn’t ended well. 

Like on the day I had a jolly day sailing on Debbie and Theo Paphitis’s boat in Marbella and, after a glass or two, decided that I was rich, too, and went into Puerto Banus where I spent over eight grand on a dress. Buyer’s remorse doesn’t begin to cover what I subsequently went through. The Spanish police had me on suicide watch.

   

I told them all about it in Ted Baker yesterday as they tried to keep up with my Everest of goodies. Shocking pink pants (trousers, to you in the UK), black pearly pants, black top, a cardigan, oh, and yes, what would they all be without the shoes and hang on, wouldn’t those rose gold sparkly trainers just be the icing on the cake (a multi-tiered cake by now. They didn’t use the surname Baker for nothing).

   

I can’t remember the last time I was so excited by a purchase and, this morning, I have no buyer’s remorse, because I love it all. In fact, I have the opposite, although I’ve been looking for hours on Google to find out what that is, and it doesn’t seem to exist. 

Anyway, whatever it is, I have it: the thing that isn’t buyer’s remorse, but buyer’s I Have to Go Back to Ted Baker Today Because I Missed a Few Things emotion. 

That shocking pink bag that has zips up the sides so that you can change the colour of the panels. I have decided I really can’t live without it; I am already filing the insurance claim for when I leave it on a train/in a bar. But it's a definite no to the turkey feather bag, unless they throw in the flesh as well and I have Christmas Day covered. 

Then there were those other shoes – the suede ones, in the shocking pink AND the pale pink of my other pants (sorry, yes; I forgot to mention that I had to have the pale pink pants as well).

   

Ted Baker’s founder and CEO Ray Kelvin opened his first store in Glasgow in 1988 and has built the company into a worldwide luxury brand. And, here’s the thing: it’s really not that expensive. I’m truly knocked out by it. As a small person, normally it’s hard to get anything that fits me without having to bring in a tailor and a topiarist to dispense with at least fifty quid’s worth of redundant hemline.

   

And gosh, this collection is breathtaking. You can almost smell spring in the cherry blossom pinks; your spirit soars with the embroidered birds on the purest white clouds of fabric; it’s a collection that tells us that winter has closed its doors and hope is on the way.

And did I mention that it's daytime wearable, yet glamorous at the same time? And something for all ages. Yes, even for those of us fast approaching our seventh decade. 

Ted Baker makes me feel young again.

   

That’s it. I can bear it no longer. I am on way back. They close in seven hours. I have people to see. Shoes to buy. 

At least I know if I’m ever asked to do a TED talk, I already have the first word covered.