This Devil Doesn't Wear Prada

England is definitely more “European” than it used to be. That’s clearly a by-product of being a member of the European Union. It is much less obvious in the rural areas than the big cities, although my brother’s small Cambridgeshire village now boasts a Mexican restaurant in addition to the Chinese and the Indian.

Nowhere is this diversity more apparent than in London, which is a vibrant microcosm of Europe. You see it in the restaurants and in the shops and especially in the clothes. Lucy was delighted to find a branch of Mango, one of her favorite clothes stores when she lived in France. I didn’t buy any clothes in England. I hate shopping for clothes anywhere, at any time.

I did, however, buy some pants before I left from a Lands End store located within Sears. I also bought this jacket in magenta with an orange lining and trim. I took it out of the bag and threw it on the sofa and didn’t touch it again until John arrived to drive us to the airport. It was then I noticed that the security tag was still attached to the sleeve.The kind that says, “Don’t take this off yourself or you will get ink all over the place.” I took the jacket anyway, hoping that the device wouldn’t set off alarms at security. It didn’t and I wore the jacket for two weeks, still wondering if Michael Chertikoff was monitoring my every move. A few people commented on it and I tried to look suitably nonchalant. It’s a great coat, even if it won’t grace the pages of Vogue anytime soon. It stood up to rain and to the wind whipping across the fields of Northumberland and I expect it to last through several Michigan winters.