Tonight I am going to my first Fancy Dress party. When I first heard the phrase ‘fancy dress’ I assumed that it was a euphemism for black tie. But no, ‘fancy dress’ means costume party. The odd thing is Brits don’t do Halloween really but they love fancy dress parties.
Tonight it is for a work mate’s Thirtieth Birthday and the theme is to come dressed as what you wanted to be when you were little.
I’ve had a bit of a hard time. At first I thought of Princess Leia but that look wouldn’t be particularly attractive on me. Laura Ingles Wilder and Inspector Cloussou gave me a similar problem. I thought about Marilyn Monroe not out of any particular wish to be her, but because I wanted to be an actress and it would be a fun chance to vamp it up. That choice however would have required my dropping 70 quid between the dress and the wig.
I’ve settled on a sexy librarian, which only requires me to buy some fishnets. Wearing my hair up in a chignon, my 1950’s cats eye glasses, brown silk (tight) shirt, black skirt, wicked high heels that put up to around 5’6’’ (taking ballet flats with me for walking to the tube and to switch out when the inevitable pain becomes too much) and will be carrying a copy of The New York Public Library Desk Reference.
Since Stuart has decided that he is drinking, “Ad hoc. Don’t look at me like that. I can drink if I want to.” I may decide to allow myself a few cocktails. I was bad in New York. My defence is it came after I got a text from Stuart that told me that he was lashed.
For Buettners 40h Matt and I are going to arrange for him to receive a coffin at work. That should fuck him up for a while.
It couldn’t have come at the worst time. I was waiting for my friends at a very sexy New Yorky steak house and I was gagging for a glass of red. I used his transgression as a get out of jail free card for some vino.
He wasn’t happy that I could tell he was drinking from a text.
April 12th, 2008 at 11:47 am
I hope you post the photos!