Ha ha - nice one.
If you gave George Clooney a string vest, a jumper you found in a bin and some paint-covered tracky bottoms, he'd still manage to look sharp. I am the opposite. If someone put me in an Armani suit – and I can't picture any sequence of events that would lead to that – I'd still look like I'd put my clothes on with a shovel.
I've also never been interested in clothes, although I do usually wear them so as not to embarrass the kids. I've never really got fashion – suddenly everyone decides that what would have been a sign of severe mental health issues six months ago now looks good.
Recent beardies, I'm talking to you - if you wanted a bushy beard, why didn't you grow one before, so you could be special?
But I don't have the courage or desire to wear clothes that stand out, so I have evolved over the years a wardrobe that you could fairly describe as dull, limited, and crap.
The charity shop part of this is no challenge at all – that's where I buy my clothes anyway. The challenge is the fear of ending up looking like some kind of navvy-clown. Or maybe in six months' time everyone will have swapped their beard for the new, 'navvy-clown' look.