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I even occasionally did without cheese. But one thing I am not giving up – and never will – is clothes. Not that I’m talking about naturism: rather, as the most spoiled and pampered generation that has ever existed advocate, yet another virtue signalling fad that won’t mean a great deal to those really suffering in the world – this time involving clothes. Or rather, the self denial thereof.

It involves confining yourself to wearing just ten outfits for the month of March and has been called Fashion Fast. This is hot on the heels of Dry January (and Sober October) and Veganuary, none of which I observed of course.

It also follows any number of silly ass initiatives such as Movember, in which men grow moustaches to raise awareness of male health issues (why not, I dunno, just talk about them in the other 11 months too?), Sugar Free Month (that was February, you might have missed it), Caffeine-free month (January and you must be joking, see above).

While researching this article I have also just discovered that March is also “dechox” (geddit?) month, which provoked such a surge of irritation in me that I was sorely tempted to turn to chocolate again. But back to clothes. Who comes up with this stuff? It is wholly admirable to draw attention to the very real hardship created by the fast fashion industry (using fast in the other sense of the word).

Sweatshop factories in the poorest parts of the world give rise to grim working conditions, creating lifelong health conditions on poverty-level wages – not to mention the impact on the environment – all so spoilt Westerners can buy five tops for a fiver and throw them away after one wear.

That is immoral but better, surely, to highlight these dreadful working conditions than make fatuous declarations of wearing “only” ten outfits for a month? Only?

Which brings to mind my Yorkshire-born father who commented, when I was fretting about which dress to wear, “If thee’d nought but one, thee’d know.”

As it happens, I am not only anti-fast fashion, but throughout my life I have followed the French philosophy: buy sparingly but buy quality.

Far better to have one dress that costs £500 than 10 for £50.

And yes, I know that sounds a lot, but it is more economical in the longer term. For a start, well-made things last a lot longer: those £50 dresses might be good for a few wears but it won’t be long before they start, literally, to unravel.

I bought decent clothes even when I was at university and, decades on, I still wear some of them. It’s known as the “cost per wear”: if you buy a £500 dress and wear it 100 times (as I have done with some outfits), the cost per wear is £5.

If you buy a £50 dress and wear it five times, the cost per wear is £10, twice the cost of the more expensive item and you’ll have to replace it much sooner.

And chances are that a very cheap dress will be wholly in tune with the fashions of the moment, so that even if it lasts longer than five minutes, you won’t want to wear it because you’ll look silly. As my partner puts it, today’s fashion fad is tomorrow’s tank top.

Far better to buy a small number of really well-made classic clothes that will last you for decades. If you look at really well-dressed women, you will see they do this. The Duchess of Cambridge is perhaps the best example of the lot: although she has access to fashion resources that the vast majority of us do not, her style, even in jeans, is totally classic and a very judicious mix of high street and high end.

She regularly recycles older outfits, updating them with a belt here, an altered collar there, and managing to appear both thrifty and elegant into the bargain.

That’s something else I’ve never understood about the women who wear an outfit only once, whether it’s because it’s cheap or they are married to a multi-gazillionaire and have a budget to spend on clothes roughly equivalent to the GDP of a developing nation.

What if you really like your new dress and want to wear it again?

We all have wardrobe favourites: the dress you wore to a successful job interview, the top you were sporting the night you got engaged. Some of us have lucky items of clothing; wearing them just seems to give you a boost.

Which brings us back to the everyday. It is entirely possible that, by day at least, I am already practising the ten-outfit policy.

In the days of working in an office I used to love wearing smart suits, jackets and dresses, but in these days of WFH, I have reverted to my old habits for when casual dress is required.

This boils down to black jeans throughout the winter and white jeans throughout the summer and multiples of tops to go with each. Never blue jeans, ever.

Like Elvis, I don’t like them on myself. In his case, it was because they reminded him of his poverty-stricken background, when everyone wore them because they couldn’t afford anything else.

But not everyone shared that aversion: the great style icon Jackie Kennedy Onassis spent much of her marriage to Aristotle Onassis clad in blue jeans, which led the tycoon to grumble that she spent a fortune on clothes but he only ever saw her in denim: this was because she’d spend her clothes allowance on very expensive clobber and then cash them in by selling them through second hand designer shops.

Now there was a woman who understood the notion of cost per wear.

So why not tell women to emulate the great style icons in the way they shop for clothes? Not, perhaps, Jackie, whose complicated relationship with money spilled into her wardrobe, but with the women who choose a couple of classic pieces per season, which they mix and match with what they already have.

Essentially you need a little black dress and a string of pearls (think Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast At Tiffany’s) a couple of good pairs of trousers and skirts, a couple of blazers, cashmere sweaters (avoid the cheap ones but you can get them quite reasonably these days), a couple of starched white shirts and a few of the silk variety.

There’s ten outfits that will see you through. Of course you can add to that summer dresses, winter options and the rest of it but keep it simple and keep it classy. If in doubt, add some more jewellery.

Some people say you should get dressed and then take off one of your accessories: I’m the opposite. Pile ’em on. And without even having to spend a million dollars, you’ll look like it all the same.

‘Far better to buy a small number of really well-made classic clothes that will last you for decades’

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