You can also swish online via sites such as Swishing.co.uk
On April 1st I wore the fruits of my first official foray into swishing. While not a joke per se, it was certainly frivolous compared to my usual garb: a short, full-skirted sundress with a pattern of bright orange and pink pansies from H&M, of the kind worn by nine-year-old girls during the summer of 1976 (minus the black tights and cardigan; there was snow on the ground here in 2013).
A week before, my sister and I went to a charity swishing party (£5 including raffle entry) held at a pub in Birmingham, which ended up being something a mixed bag for the two of us. I’d elbowed my way to my relevant size rack with very much an open mind, grabbing anything a) I might conceivably wear and b) might potentially fit me. Along with the H&M sundress I snaffled a French Connection wrap dress in a bright geometric pattern in turquoise, blue and black (again, tights-friendly) and a black cropped, 3/4-length sleeved jacket which, it transpired, was brought to the party by my sister. Nice work, in my opinion.
I’d chucked some ridiculously high mint-green platform stilettos from Asos into my bag of things to swap on an impulse, and after the swishing smoke cleared and they were still sitting on the table I elected to take them back home. I felt a bit guilty after the fact as any leftovers were going to charity, but there were so many rejected shoes at the end of the party that I wondered about the popularity of footwear – especially of the skyscraper variety – in charity shops if ladies hold back on taking them for free. If hanging onto the green platforms means saving them going for recycling and my not buying any more absurd heels for the next wedding I attend, it’s probably more sustainable to keep them.
My sister, meanwhile, settled unenthusiastically on a pale pink top, a pair of new-looking Gap jeans and a brown leather handbag. Opting not to try the top and jeans on there and then (at the height of the semi-riot of swishing the room was full of half-naked women falling over skirts and cocktail dresses), she was disappointed the next day to find the jeans ‘minute’ and the top ‘just not very nice’. Since I did manage to squeeze into the jeans, I ultimately made out like a swishing bandit while she merely made space in her wardrobe.
As for the rest of my donations, the red vintage 1980s wrap dress (eBay, far too big for me) and black strappy evening dress (worn once at a university ball eight years ago) disappeared before I’d even made it to the racks, while the Cadbury’s-purple mini-skirt (itself a hand-me-down, and too small) is destined for a Brummie charity shop. I hope it finds a suitably glamorous home, perhaps in a wardrobe next to the pink top.
