There’s a tradition in my family that goes something like this.
On Christmas eve, there is a point where most normal people give up on shopping and head off to find solace and cheer in friends, family or alcohol. It is at this particular moment that my boys head into town to eat crepes. It’s quiet by then and they get space to wander around. They eat crepes, talk about er, guy stuff (I am not privy to these conversations, obvy) and then they buy chocolates and a Hanro vest for my stocking.
Helping Santa out is a wonderful thing.
Looking back at this collection I see I have a sort of Hanro journal, each one representing a special Christmas spent together. Funny how clothes are more than just that, how they hold our emotions and stories within them.