One of my readers, Julie, called me 'continental-elegant' the other day, which I must say I'm very flattered by. Good job she can't see me, though, is all I can add.

Today is one of those days when I realise my wardrobe is seriously schizophrenic. I'm sure we all have clothes for home and clothes for work, but since my home and my work are synonymous, what I have these days is clothes for home (Spudulika Slob - warmth being a priority) and clothes I can actually be seen dead in. Turn up unexpectedly and I don't mind you finding me in a Slob outfit, but I wouldn't actually go out in it. Nor, however, do I wear anything even remotely smart at home. 

Today, by lunchtime, I was on my fifth set of clothes of the day. This is a tad excessive, even for me, but it was unusually varied. I guess on most days in London, it was a case of sleepwear, workwear, maybe evening wear, then back home to sleepwear again. 

Today I got up (pink cashmere cowlneck and pyjama bottoms covered in penguins), and donned my slippers (green Uggs) and dressing gown (thick grey wool coat from Wetherall, top left) in order to have breakfast. I wear the coat as a dressing gown, incidentally, because I can't find a dressing gown warm enough. 

Then I drove into town (fleece-lined tracksuit bottoms, pink cashmere sweater, Uggs, Marinac jacket from Lands' End and purple beanie) and went swimming (which entailed a swimming cossie and flip-flops). 

Back home, I quickly changed to go to a Christmas fair at a friend's art gallery (black viscose poloneck sweater, black lambswool trousers, 1930s lamé jacket in red, gold and black, several strings of pearls, a gold and blue lamé trenchcoat I made from this coat at left and black suede boots with three-inch stiletto heels). 

Then it was home again, off with the posh togs and into a fleece polo, trousers and gilet, again all from Lands' End, to bum about for the rest of the day subbing copy and hugging the woodburner.

Talk about horses for courses. I was pleased to note, however, that although I can no longer endure the agony of walking about in high heels, I can still stand in them for a couple of hours, so perhaps they are not entirely a thing of the past. 

My face today, meanwhile, has gone from the usual blurry-eyed morning ruin to red-eyed chlorine monster, to fully-made up red-lipped maven and back to my normal worn-off-makeup-but-can't-be-bothered-to-reapply-it look.  Hopefully, however, it will not have to earn me any more bacon today, so I need not dig out any more Revlon China Red from the dregs of my 10-year-old lipstick case, which is increasingly becoming an exercise in futility. Time to track one down on Ebay.

Today shows up the problem with clothes - like a family car, it's almost impossible to get one thing that will do duty as another. The only solution is to have an extensive wardrobe - gosh how awful...

I have been having a bit of a splurge recently - probably my last for a while.

The reason is that over the past year, I have fast become a convert to outdoor and high-tech clothing, and so I decided to make an investment in a new capsule wardrobe.

It marks, in a way, a new stage of my life, I feel. It's not that I have given up on style, but I do rather feel that fashion has largely given up on me, and I am now resolved to focus my budget on clothing that is more suited to my life. You know - the one I actually have rather than the one I'd like to have.

My everyday life contains few opportunities - or requirements - to dress up. Most people here live in jeans, wellies and fleece. I don't need to be formal, as I once did, nor to impress anyone at work. I mostly spend my days doing housework, gardening, and writing cross-legged in a big old wing chair with my Macbook in my lap: this is not conducive to towering heels and pencil skirts: besides, most town clothing simply doesn't stand up to country life.

I have an extensive collection of beautiful vintage clothing for the odd posh dinner or gallery opening I go to, but the rest of my time only requires that my garments be comfortable and practical not beautiful or sexy. And with December nearly upon us, warmth is once again my highest priority: it was three degrees at noon today, as I drove through the fog to my friend K's.

Brought up, as I was, a complete snob about natural fabrics, for years I've eschewed acrylic, nylon and polyester in favour of wool, silk and cotton. But after many years of struggling to keep warm in winter with traditional merino and silk, the discovery last year of modern ski base layers in fleece and Climate Control wicking polyester fabrics was a revelation. Get into the 21st century, why don't you? The newly fleece-clad DH and I spent the most comfortable winter ever, in indoor temperatures that were rarely above 14 degrees and certainly fell as low at 8 degrees in our glacial bedroom.

He was more experimental than I. Years of watching every penny we spend have made me reluctant to spend money on new clothing - nearly everything I own is second-hand (let's call it vintage) - and I was gobsmacked when he spent over £30 on a fleece. A fleece, for God's sake, I thought. A synthetic fabric...

I learned quickly, of course, what everyone else has doubtless known for bloody ages - that the good stuff has come on a long way from the pill-prone plastic shite I bought once and discarded in disgust 20 years ago. A crappy £4 fleece from Primark does just what it says on the tin, but a £35 microfleece from Berghaus is a different animal and it is to microfleeces that I am the biggest convert of all. They feel like suede; you can wear them over or under things, or even next to your skin; they come out of the washer almost dry; they wick the sweat right off you, and if you pay a little extra, they are very nicely styled and wear extremely well.

Such garments are made by firms that put the design and utility of the garment first, and the look of the thing second, and there is a quiet beauty in that: these garments are fit for purpose, unrestrictive and comfortable and are designed by the kind of people who actually wear them. They don't ride up, or stretch, or scratch or itch. It is very pleasant to put on garments that are so well made (more than can be said of the offerings from the average UK high street store), and so reasonably priced at the same time - because gone for good are the days when I could splash out £400 on a cashmere sweater. 

Lands' End is a label that is fast becoming a favourite: like Boden and Orvis, their clothes suit my casual life, and are both practical and pretty. When the DH ordered himself their Insulated Squall Parka, I quickly followed suit with a bright yellow one (but without the extra insulation). It is fantastic for walking the dog: lightweight, warm and windproof, and I practically glow in the dark - important in the fog and the half-light.

Since they had a sale on, I ordered a few other things too - the Squall Jacket (like the Parka but shorter) in Chambray Blue; a stretch fleece hoodie (the most useful garment, by far, I find, as I do suffer so terribly from cold ears); and fleece socks and gloves, so I could check out their Thermacheck 100 fleece in an accessory before buying a staple garment.

Next up came a couple of fleece polos, a Heavenly Fleece scarf (I await with anticipation, as the French say); two fleece gilets and a Thermacheck 200 (ie: 200gsm) fleece parka. And if the idea of sports clothing makes you shudder, btw, the firm also does fleeces cut in conventional shapes such as cardigans and blazers, which give a more tailored look without the weight and restriction of wool. I've kept my palette to soft blues, greens and lilacs, as with such casual cuts and no applied detailing, using a flattering colour becomes more important than ever. 

Most of the outdoor clothing companies (and admittedly Land's End is more of a fashion firm that sells outdoor clothing than an outdoor specialist like North Face) develop and sell their own patented fabrics or finishes, with names like WindCheck, Dri-Off, AT-Optic etc. How much of this you need, and how much you're willing to pay for depends on your lifestyle. Personally, I haven't yet felt the need to splash out the 100-quid plus level for North Face or Patagonia, as I don't go hauling my arse up Ben Nevis, but I have lately progressed from Lands End to the slightly more specialist Craghoppers and Berghaus, which offer sun-protection fabrics and anti-mosquito fabrics, and for his birthday I bought the DH Craghopper's Kiwi trousers because they have eight pockets and he is a pocketaholic.

So, we will see how we get on...

Sadly, the sleeveless jacket is one of the key trends for this coming spring/summer season.

By sleeveless jacket, I don't mean the fleece gilet or puffer type, which at least has the merit of being practical. I mean the blazer or safari type that is long and tailored, with pockets, and often a belt.

It was with a sinking heart that I saw this horrible vestment reappear in the collections. It even makes a 6ft model with coathanger shoulders look frumpy, and on a normal-shaped woman, it's generally just a disaster. The pockets draw attention to an over-large bust and/or hips, and the lack of sleeves and tight armhole draw attention to the slightest bingo wing. It is, at heart, a very mannish garment.

If you DO want to follow this trend, and I seriously suggest you don't unless you're tall, thin, flat-chested and angular, then you could think about a waistcoat instead. The key thing about a waistcoat is that it's much more softly tailored than a jacket because it's structured as a middle-layer garment, not an overgarment.

For the best bet, keep it simple, v-necked, in a knit or a fluid woven and avoid unnecessary extras like pocket flaps, and wear it open, over a softly tailored blouse or smock, so that it provides a narrow, slimming line.

A word to the wise - one thing worth popping in your shopping trolley this winter is fleece-lined tights.

These are now worn by all the girlies after they go clubbing, so they may not be on your radar unless your kids have bought some.

They look like a heavyweight 60-denier type tight, but are much warmer, with a poly outside and a cotton inside. They come in 'footed', stirrup and footless designs - the latter being very handy for slipping on under your micromini on the way home from the club, but they're equally handy, I find, for under your jeans or - in my case - your thick wool ski pants. They are true tights, not leggings, and give you a very clean line under dresses and skirts too. 

I ordered mine from Ebay, direct from Hong Kong, and they're brilliant. Very stretchy, they also act as control tights, giving you a smooth silhouette, and other than being a tad tight in the upper thigh until washed, they're wonderful - well worth their £6 a pair and free shipping.