And just last week a colleague kindly saved me some humiliation when I announced I was going out to get a coffee.
"Not until you have untucked the back of your dress from your tights," she said. Which it would have been good to know about before I had walked the length of the building.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who is a bit sartorially challenged.
How many of us haven't at some stage put yesterday's jeans on, only to discover a while later that the uncomfy lump just behind the left knee is in fact yesterday's undies.
Just me? Oh.
It seems when it comes to dressing myself I am a bit of a slow learner, despite that some of the lessons have been hard to forget.
One I'd quite like to forget has been firmly etched in my mind since leg warmers first came in.
I remember the offending pair well. They were fabulous. Striped brown, pink, yellow and burgundy...they were at the cutting edge of 80s style.
The night in question was their second outing. I teamed them with clunky high-heeled ankle boots, a denim skirt and a fetching burgundy acrylic jumper. I was feeling very fashion forward as I headed out to a function at a community hall.
It was one of those old, old halls that smell of dust even though they appear perfectly clean.
It had the to-be-expected wooden floor, which sounded great as I clip clopped across it in my clunky heels. So good did it sound that I clip clopped the entire length of the hall, making sure everyone had the chance to admire my outfit.
And admire they did. Heads turned as I went by. By the next day everyone would be queuing up to buy leg warmers like mine.
As I ran out of hall to promenade down and looked for a seat, two women sidled up to me.
"Your pantyhose are hanging out," one of them hissed at me out the corner of her mouth.
I looked down at my artfully slouched leg attire and then looked up at her pityingly.
"They are leg warmers" I explained. Honestly, people should at least try to stay abreast of the latest fashions.
"No, I mean your pantyhose," she hissed more urgently, gesturing behind me.
I turned and looked. A chill ran through me.
She did mean pantyhose.
There they were, yesterday's pantyhose, one toe caught in the bottom of my striped, fashionable leg-warmer and the rest of the hose trailing behind like a long, thin, mid-tan bridal train. With the "panty" portion in prime position right in the middle.
Blushing bright red I bent down and untucked the pantyhose toe and, rolling up the offending garment I stuffed it in my handbag.
I really wanted to vacate the building but what with the clip cloppy heels and the wooden floor ... there was no way to slink out un-noticed.
The mental scars remain. I never wore leg warmers again, and even stripey socks make me shudder.
As for pantyhose - no. They simply can't be trusted to stay on the bedroom floor where you flung them the night before. Even the thought of pantyhose makes me look behind me to make sure there's not a pair following me.
I need to stick to reliable trousers, tops with the tags cut off, and sensible shoes with quiet non-clunky heels in colours that don't show the coffee grounds.