Looking back, I seem to have spent most of my career applying for jobs that were just a little out of my league, and in some cases, I got them. How did I feel? Terrified!

Terrified that I would get discovered as a fraud and then thrown out on my ear. But it never happened because I spent a many hours learning the job on the spot so that I wouldn’t get discovered and thrown into fashion exile.

Here’s the story of when I oversold a little too far:

Around 16 years ago, I applied for a job in apparel production based in Amsterdam. I had never done apparel production before, I had no clue where to start and I had never visited Amsterdam. With my previous experience being mainly in buying and retail where I had worked with garments but never measured or constructed them, I felt it necessary to embellish my experience a ‘little’ in order to stand a chance of getting the job offer. In my naivety it didn’t even cross my mind that when I was offered the position, I would find myself a little out of my depth in some or, in reality, most areas of the role.

On the first day in the job, after having landed in a new country two hours earlier with my life in three suitcases I, along with the other sourcing assistants had to measure the collection to start the production process. It was only at that point that I started to panic. I was in a new country and in a new job that I had no clue about.

With tape measure in hand, the reality of my overselling kicked in. I had never measured a garment before. Feeling the blood rush to my head in panic, I casually observed my colleague starting to measure. Leaning across I asked:

“ So, you measure the chest like that… right, yes – I do the same”

“ And the shoulders, yes, ok, same as well”

And so it went, stage after stage she measured, I copied and memorised.

The nervous panic slowly subsided; I quickly studied the measuring technique and slowly worked my way through the collection. As the weeks and months progressed, I took notes, I learnt quickly, I used my initiative and I asked questions, lots of questions. But they didn’t find out until I left the company of my initial inexperience.  I did confessed all but after my two years there, they laughed (some more nervously than others). It was a bold move, but luckily it paid off.

From then on, when applying for a job, I made a point to always understand the role before I applied for it. I may not have been able to do everything, but at least I had an understanding of, or basic level skill at, most of the tasks.

My overselling of myself in that role was irresponsible of me,  and could have been a financial disaster for the collection and the company, but I followed through on the job, worked above and beyond to make up for any knowledge shortfall and had a great experience.

So with that experience in mind, here are my tips:

• Overselling your capabilities can have financial implications so never stray too far from your skill set.
• Think on your feet, watch and learn from the experts.
• Don’t be afraid to ask questions.
• Take notes and learn from them.
• Never make the same mistake twice.

For more information on the industry and about measuring read my book: Blue is the New Black

When I was younger, before grey hair started to set in, I used to be able to scan a market rail and within 5 minutes, visually pull out the bargains, determine the repair job needed and negotiate a lower price with a raised eyebrow and a curled lip, but over the past 15 years my vintage cyber-skills have waned and I have been somewhat lazy in the world of secondhand scavenging…… or so I thought.

This weekend, my vintage-scanning-ability or VSA for short came up trumps with not not just one but two all in the same city.

Dries Van Noten Cami

Bleeker New and Vintage in the Pijp here in Amsterdam served me a vibrant red cami top from Mr.D Van Noten ( at 25 euro) whilst Tamogo on Spiegelstraat handed over a Black cotton Valentino blazer with pleated back for 140 euro.

Red Valentino : Pleated back panel jacket

With both fine establishments looking after the luxury end of the vintage market you can be sure that the quality is high and the curating of the stores is impeccable.

For sure, dear people, these are not places for the cheap tie dye nonsense, they are instead, for the more discerning customer who knows their labels and can spot a bargain. With the stock turned around on a speedy basis, stick your head in when you can but keep your distance from the size 38 (s), if you will.

I stumbled across Heschung 18 months ago and was forced, yes forced, to buy a pair of white leather, punch hole, side buckle loafers. The leather was soft and buttery, the toe slightly pointed and the fit a sublime perfection. Embracing my heel perfectly, they remain to this day, the most comfortable shoes I have ever had.

Of course, with me living in Amsterdam, I can only where them on Spring days when there is no chance of rain…. not so easy here, but they are and will always be my pimp shoes.

So –  18 months down the line and in only a matter of weeks, I will be back in Heschung, pocket-money in hand to purchase a new pair of shoes. Style is yet to be confirmed, maybe brogues, maybe loafers but rest assured they will be pimpin’ hot and smokin’.

Am giddy with excitement and will of course report back with purchase details.

A much-needed brush up on production procedures and methods was essential for chapter 8 of the book, so with a specific vendor in mind, the flights were booked and hotels reserved.

Now, I’m not going to go on about how hard the job is, or how stressful travel is in order to gain some kind of sympathy, but what I will say is that, these trips ARE tiring, and NOT glamorous. I think the only person who has the glamour job in Fashion is Mme Wintour, and for the rest of us mere mortals we do the late nights and early starts, the plane delays, the long walks from terminal to terminal, the strange taxi drivers and frisky security men.

So, with this in mind, Here is a brief recap of my trip to Portugal this week, all in the name of research.

In order to save money on flights (it’s me buying them now and not an employer) I headed for a German airline which for a bargain fee asked me nicely to change in Frankfurt and then head on to Porto later in the evening.

Knowing that Frankfurt airport is huge and a devil to navigate, I allowed enough time (ok, I hate being late – so, loads of time between my flights) which meant that for Tuesday, dinner was either a hot dog and some fizzy pop at a takeaway stand or a cocktail and bar snacks at the airport branch of the Sheraton.

Cocktail and snacks went down a treat, although I did have to battle with business guests recanting tales of their management meetings, and Swedish football fans glued to the big screen in the corner of the Lemons and Limes Bar. Still – it was enough to send me on my way to the front row of economy where I had a perfect view of how the business travel flies.

With it being 10.30pm, I was awake for precisely 20 minutes of the flight before I drooled and headflopped over my neighbour in the attempt to get some sleep.

On arrival at Porto, the driver, thankfully, was there to whisk me to the hotel 40 minutes further into the Portuguese countryside.

The cosy room was a vision of comfort and seclusion once I arrived and whilst I could have slept standing, clothed and with overnight bag in hand, I did the necessary and spent a further 20 minutes turning all the lights out. Note to Hotel; One light switch can do the job people…. no need for twenty.

Next day – bright and early, I was whisked to the factory where I spent the day working though production procedures, techniques, planning and trims. Now, as much as I would like to describe the details, infrastructure and layout of the above factory, I shan’t, It’s for the book, I need to formulate and turn the prose, and this, my friends takes time.

Relax – it will come, and hopefully you will like..

By the end of the Wednesday I was production’d out, let me tell you. However a glass of wine, excellent food and great company served a proper way to finish the day.

Note for those who are interested, If you travel to Porto and head outside of the town, into the hills of neighbourhood villages, there are no sign posts, no street names, and the most amazing restaurants are hidden in the middle of nowhere.

The one in question where I dined was next to a fabric mill, down an industrial estate, but nevertheless, had a view of a vineyard and amazing food! surprise!

1 hour after leaving the restaurant I was back at a different hotel about to check in. Now bearing in mind it was now 11pm and my flight was at 6am, my stay there was to be brief:

Here’s how check in went..

Me: checking in, the name’s Breuer

Hotel:  yes – staying for 2 nights?

Me: No, just the 1

Hotel: Really?

Me: Yes, really!

Hotel: Can I have your credit card

Me: Sure!, Can I have a wake up call tomorrow morning please?

Hotel: Yes, for what time?

Me: 4am!

Hotel: Of course!

Hotel: Ms Breuer, next time you stay, the breakfast will start at 7am until 10am,

Me: Thanks – good to know!

Hotel: Ms Breuer, would you like to use the gym?

Me: Does it look like I want to use the Gym, It’s now, 11.20 pm and I have to be up in 10 minutes, so it seems.

Hotel: I guess the gym is a no, ah so here is your card and the room is 233.

Hotel: Enjoy your stay!

And with that I headed to a beautiful room which unfortunately would only be required for sleeping and a super quick shower in around 8 minutes.

Thursday morning – with wake up call success, taxi’d and securitied, found me in an empty airport at around 04.30. ggrrrr

With no coffee, no food and no free wifi, I paced up and down the terminal walking like a runway model and finishing each strut with a Paris Hilton pose. Well, where else can one practice? Eventually the coffeehouse opened and an espresso was inhaled.

On the plane additional headflopping and dribbling was managed, and with the arrival at Frankfurt I tried to find some snack to nibble on..

Note to Airport – please make available non chocolate snacks at the magazine counters. Not everyone wants chocolate, some people like muesli bars and furthermore, SOME people are allergic to chocolate and beef jerky is not a true alternative. !

After further plane delays and more pacing  from me) the flight took off, landed and disembarked. I was on home turf.

In a dream world I would be chauffeured back home, lunch would be ready and a stack of magazines and mug of tea would be resting on the sofa. Alas Rather than heading back to my nest, to shower freshen up and relax, I headed straight into my consultancy job to be buried amongst fabric cards, spreadsheets and 106 emails. T’was a long day.

So there we have it, my research trip to Portugal in a nutshell. Busy, tiring but productive.

If you can find one glamorous aspect to that, please do let me know.

It’s not that I’m particular (of course I am), it’s not that money’s no object (of course it is) and it’s not that I don’t know what style of bag I want (of course I don’t – I am constantly flip-flopping between leather and canvas, shoulder of cross body) – I’ve just found it especially difficult to get a good quality bag that is fine for business and travel, that’s not too casual, not too smart and yet fits to my price point. I’d love to justify an uber bag but honestly, my budget is more blueberry than Mulberry, so it was towards the small indie brands I directed my attack.

Having found Royal Republiq in the Monocle Magazine, I raved obsessively (yes, I think raved is the word) about the brand, the simplicity of design and their value price point, but what I didn’t take into consideration was the quality which, and I hate to say this online, disappointed me to the extent that I exchanged the first purchase and have just asked for a refund on the second.

It broke my heart – seriously. I truly wanted to love the bags but when workmanship is not up to scratch on the straps or the cotton twill lining dies my hands and my pink leather purse, I have to make a stand as a consumer.

So it was with this experience fresh in my mind that I went, dyed purse in hand, to Property Of in Amsterdam hoping they could help with my plight. 40 minutes of bag browsing and one Stumptown espresso later ( free and on the house – now that’s service) I emerged with a coated cotton/linen tote. A sale item with adjustable straps and more to the point EXACTLY what I wanted.

With a Japanese edge to the styling and the genre of the bags sitting between male and female, this is not a place for a chi chi leather tote with a signature tassel or girls name. The bags are functional, simple, and carefully designed serving their purpose as a vessel for life items whilst turning the heads of those stylish folk who are clearly in the know.

So my weekend was hereby classed a success and my bag dilemma is over (for now). I am under no illusion that my questionable bag obsession will take me down another route in the near future, but for now, I have what I need, what I want and I didn’t pay silly money in the process.