‘The thing is, nobody knows how to dress in this weather’. That was a snippet of conversation I overheard on Tuesday as I walked past two chaps drinking pints under the awnings of a north London pub. Now, if I were either insecure or arrogant enough to assume that every (good, bad, ugly) observation I happened to hear a man make was about me, I would probably short circuit. But here’s the thing: I do think that was about me.

Or, at least, it definitely could have been. Picture the scene: raining and windy on the hottest day in record in British history. Picture the outfit: an A-line mini dress with lurid ’60s floral print (HUH?), boxer shorts (WTF?), suede (LOL!) platforms. Yeah. What had almost worked at 8AM, definitely didn’t by 8PM.

This got me thinking of that famous quote from fell walker Alfred Wainwright: ‘There is no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing’. Although I think it is an admirable concept, and one that usually works, I’m not sure it is applicable on a day that was marked by objectively bad weather (even the heat-seeking missiles and sun worshippers among us must surely admit that melting train tracks and fires are definitely bad news). This week, I don’t think anyone had the suitable clothing.

For Brits, summer (even when it is a run-of-the-mill, not-that-warm, heavy on the air quotes “summer”) does strange things to our sartorial sensibilities. The gulf between how we want to look and feel and how we actually look and feel is vast. Take the print of my mini dress. In my head? Palm Springs hostess (an exemplary goal: see Slim Aarons’ poolside picture above). In reality? Charity shop upholstery repurposed into maternity wear. Summer dressing is awkward, but it is also charmingly, naively optimistic. Throw in a heatwave – plus travel chaos and a cost-of-living crisis that means many of us won’t be going away – and fashion faux pas are inevitable.

So, no, I don’t know how to dress in this weather. You don’t. None of us do. But in a time so devoid of unity, there’s a bit of comforting camaraderie – and much-needed comedy – in that. Here’s to a few more weeks of dressing unsuitably.