Summer arrived today and by happy coincidence I had to go into town for a lunchtime drink to meet an old chum to discuss his proposed novel.
On the way from Green Park tube station, the heat, noise, and bustle was made tolerable by the sight of so many attractive women walking along Piccadilly.
Perhaps it's the dirty old man in me but I think the youngsters had it and that their older sisters had lost it.
Girls in their teens and twenties had the confidence of youth, a style in itself. Whatever they wore it was short, tight, and right.
Women in their thirties and beyond didn't know how to cope with the sun. Either they dressed too young in a self-conscious way or else as frumps in shapeless summer dresses and sandals.
They seemed to lack the elegance of older women in, say, Paris or Rome, who have a way of looking casual when the temperature rises that is probably achieved with lots of thought.
When abroad I have been struck by how much attention continental women pay their hairstyles. It's as though their hair is cut to suit their face and the shape of their heads.
In London the hair is dumped on womens' heads regardless of the suitability of the style. It doesn't matter much with youngsters whether wild like a hippy or cropped like a punk.
But get the hair right on an older woman and she's already half way to looking good.