My day didn’t start well
today. To be honest, trying on a dress purchased for the upcoming Leaverzzz
Dinner (always a somewhat stressful event to dress for to be honest. See
previous blog) at around 12.30am after
a fabulous evening of great company, lovely food and wine was not really going
to send me to bed ready for a blissful slumber was it?? Of course, I tried it
all on, decided I looked hideous and immediately started searching on my phone
for an alternative outfit. I gave up after around 10 minutes. Online shopping
in a foul temper at 1am on an iphone is not conducive to finding an amazing,
flattering-yet-stylish outfit fit for an evening spent with young people. So, I
took myself off to sleep, whilst watching Desperate Housewives (really am
becoming something of a cliché…)
Predictably, I woke up
early, still in a foul mood. Brunch and shopping with C was on the cards and I
needed to sort out the outfit for this bloody dinner. I text C at 830 telling
her my sorry tale….that the dress I’d bought looked hideous on me and that,
rather than shopping for accessories for my dress, I had to in fact shop for a whole
new outfit. In the meantime, I was frantically searching online for an alternative.
I even looked at Next. Everyone knows how I feel about Next, but needs must…
(In fairness, I did spot a rather sexy pair of shoes and matching clutch…who
knew?) C suggests I bring the dress over to hers for an honest assessment
before I scrap the whole idea. So I do just that. It actually looked better
than I first thought (there's no doubting though that it would look much better with some body-smoothing underwear. Clearly) despite the fact that I modelled it for her complete with
navy blue Converse All Stars. C agreed. So we set out with a plan of action. I
wanted to buy a white, slouchy blazer, sexy shoes - flats and wedges (I’m
learning to waltz for the event (!) and unfortunately my dance partner, lovely
though he is, is too short to allow me the luxury of a 4 inch wedge heel whilst
being twirled around the floor), clutch bag (zebra print – fabulous!),
jewellery and the vile body-smoothing underwear. C is looking for a cute summer
dress. After a quick stop for brunch (smoked salmon and poached eggs…mmmmm) we
head to Primark (no judgement – many a fabulous accessory has been picked up in
Primark). C picks up an amazing pair of zebra print heels, I get some glam
snake-skin flats for waltzing in; but then the trouble starts…… We head towards
the underwear. It’s hideous, it really is. And yes, I know no-one is going to
see it (believe me, if they did, I’d certainly never see them again!) but I can’t
bring myself to try on the skin-toned monstrosities. ‘TRY THEM ON!’ C urges. ‘What’s
the point of buying what you think may be ok, only to get it home and find that
it doesn’t work? You’ll only have to come back again.’
‘Fine’ I concede. Though
I very much love Primark, there is no way I want to come back for at least
another month. At least. And these are desperate times. C selects a couple of sweet dresses and I join her in
the fitting rooms with my scaffolding.
Now there’s something
about changing rooms that just depresses me. The lighting is harsh, the mirrors
are bright and frankly, I immediately just want to cry. This is exactly why I usually
just buy stuff, then spend ridiculous amounts of time queuing up at various
store’s customer service desks taking clothes back that don’t fit/look hideous.
Anyway, we disappear into our respective cubicles. I don’t really want to go
into too much detail about what happened in there but I will say this; after 5
minutes, I decided that this was never gonna work and clearly the only option
was for me to stay at home on the evening of the dinner, wearing sweats and a
hoodie and eating ice-cream straight from the tub… some of you must know this
feeling surely…? Meanwhile, in C’s cubicle, it was all kicking off! There’s no
need for details, but there were hysterics, much, much laughter, tears and an
amount of ripping of fabric. Seriously, the whole Primark fitting rooms
experience was really rather distressing for both of us. Never, ever again. We slunk out, paid
for our shoes and I think it was fair to say, moped dejectedly around the rest
of the Cabot Circus hating Primark and ourselves (yeah yeah, it’s been said
before - drama queen). I ditched any plans to accessorize my outfit. I mean,
what was the point….? C went off the idea of buying a cute summer dress. We
were pretty miserable…and to be frank, traumatised is probably not too strong a
word (there’s that dramatic streak again…) In honesty, we concluded that the
only way out of the slump and to end the day on a positive note was to make our
way to a pub for some alcohol.
We made our way to one
of my local pubs where we ordered in a fairly restrained manner – half a
Thatchers shandy (I know, you should probably never dilute Thatchers Gold) for
me and Fosters with a dash for C. We add a portion of home-made pork
scratchings (to complete the classy picture of two sophisticated
girls-about-town) and settle ourselves outside to cheer ourselves up. (Though I'm not sure C has forgiven me fully for divulging our changing room secret to my young male pal (and waltz partner) who happened to be there having a civilised luch with his family. Whoops) Luckily,
C and I are pretty good at seeing the funny side of most situations and it’s
not long before we’re ever-so-slightly hysterical and laughing almost uncontrollably
at our unfortunate Primark experience. I’ve calmed down at this point and
reluctantly concede that I will be attending the Leaverzzzz dinner. I also
reluctantly concede that I will buy some vile body-smoothing underwear to make
my dress look presentable. I will however, order it online and try it on in the
comfort of my own bedroom. C however, does not make any declarations about
looking for another cute summer dress. I fear she may be scarred for life.
And during the process
of writing this (I have the attention-span of a goldfish, 10 minutes on one
activity at a time is plenty), I’ve ordered the white slouchy blazer (25% off –
yay me!), earrings, bangles, heels and the fabulous zebra-print clutch. Oh…and
the amazing body-smoothing underwear. I will go to the ball! I just may look ever-so-slightly crap...!
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