Olympics Fashion Statement Dilemma

OK so it is true. In the midst of economic gloom and spiralling conflict in Syria, the UK has officially gone Olympics mad and I raise my hand to admit to beine one of the millions to be sucked into the hype. Like many other Brits I tuned into the opening ceremony with a tight feeling in my chest and the all too familiar feeling of impending doom and humiliation, the same feeling as I get every year when I tune into Wimbledon tennis. I have some international travel coming up as part of my job and I imagined myself telling people I met that I was Norwegian. But, minutes into the opening ceremony the seemingly impossible happened and it began to be abundantly clear that Danny-oh was going to deliver a corker. A brilliant mixture of heritage, culture and humour, an unsurpassable portrayal of the quintessientially British characteristic - taking the piss out of yourself. What other nation could put their world class, top famous orchestra up there to play, beautifully, a classic piece like the theme from Chariots of Fire, and then plonk a comedian on a synthesiser as accompaniment? A triumph of Britishness. I began to sat up and take more of an interest in the tickets we have coming up next week for one of the sporting events. Having worked out what it was (swimming) and how we were going to get there (car, tube, walk and queue), the next important thing was, what to wear. A serious fashion dilemma. Leaving aside the fact that I would be going there from work and would therefore absolutely have to change - no way was I heading for the Aquatic Centre in the uniform of Civil Servantry - and that security restrictions meant one bag only per person, which for me would mean changing at work and dumping all my belongings in my flimsily locked side drawer - the question was, did I want to reflect sport luxe (no idea what that really is but it sounds posher than just a pair of shorts, t shirt and a bum bag), did I want to turn up in palazzo pants and a silk bustier looking like I'd turned up for a VIP reception, or did I want to go totally utilitarian? On top of this I have the ongoing footwear dilemma, that my reconstructed foot remains a size and a half larger than my healthy one, which means I can only lever it into outsize walking shoes or my biker boots. Nightmare. Well if there is any one criterion more important than any other, it is, to look like a local. To be able to saunter through the Olympic Park radiating messages like, these are MY games! I PAID for these! They REPRESENT me! Yah boo sucks to Beijing! But to be able to achieve this without draping a Union Jack over me seems like an awesome challenge. I think the answer probably lies somewhere in Stella McCartney for Adidas. Sporty but cute. Healthy but incidentally so. British, but untacky. OK. Point me to the Adidas website asap.