It's turned cold in England again. After a long semi-autumn that stretched all the way into the middle of January, walking out of doors now feels like making your way through a fridge. As usual, people seem taken by surprise, unwilling to just accept that it's February, in the northern latitudes, and therefore is likely to be very cold.

I'm more disappointed than surprised. I was busy breaking out the spring colors that I was moving towards already. A hopeless slave to Vogue, I've fallen straight into line with their directives for spring: Peach! Apricot! Gold! Mango! I'm fascinated by how something I never considered before can suddenly seem right and fresh and exciting, not just to me, but seemingly to everyone else. Did this happen because Vogue told me what to love? Or does Vogue have its finger right on the pulse? Or is it a bit of both?

Either way, I'm enchanted.

Now it seems I'll have to wait a while before breaking out the sunrise colours I've been hoarding and keep my grey woolly hat, my grey woolly sweater and my grey winter coat all firmly on.