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blue_larkspur and kenyacandoit! Hope both of you have the sparkliest of birthdays with everything you want to happen happening twice :;smooches and hugs::
I spared you all my bitter rant on wrapping Christmas pressies when sellotape and I have never got along, never, but I have to vent about the delightful experience that is shopping for a party dress because even your husband thinks it's time you had a new one.
Where to start? The changing rooms, perhaps? The one with a curtain that gaped so everyone in the shop could get tantalising glimpses of, well, me? And a thoughtfully placed chair that occupied 80% of the space so I couldn't get changed without banging my elbows and taking a deep breath? Or the one with no mirror and a saloon height door; so handy when you're 5 foot 10. I complained about the mirror actually; in a nice way, but I felt obliged to point out that not all of us want to swan around the shop looking like a sack of potatoes tied in the middle for all to see and snicker at.
And believe me by then a sack of taties would beat me for glamour without even trying because don't get me started on the unflattering lighting.
It didn't help that I tried most of the stuff on still wearing bra and socks but my hair (which became limp, flyway and wild very fast) and total lack of makeup didn't help either. I looked like a fat, frumpy forty year old with saggy upper arms (why don't they make party dresses that cover up more? We're not all toned and trim! And some of us kind of like wearing a bra, you know...)
And then the dresses themselves... One shop had none. I looked around in bewilderment and collared an assistant. Where, I asked, is the glitz, the glamour? Point me at the sequins, the amusing hem lines, the trailing sleeves. Frock me up.
She gave me a pitying glance and told me that this year they aren't stocking any dresses; Separates Are In.
What? I not only have to find one thing to transform me into a mysterious black-clad hunkess of a night thing, I have to find two? That co-ordinate? Forget it.
And let's, please let's not dwell on the agony of spirit occasioned by my enthusiastic approval of an outfit that was sadly too small, only to watch as two blue-rinse biddies spotted it and went into ecstacies of how darling it was and did biddy A think it would suit her? ::cringes::
But, because this is Christmas and happy endings are de rigeur, I went to Winners and in the space of ten minutes found a long black sheath dress with sparkly jet bead-y things on and a killer pair of party shoes. my last pair I bought in England so they're at least 8 years old. If I make it from the car to the hall tomorrow without falling over, it'll be a miracle but they're divine. Plain black with an ankle strap and there's this antique dull silver/diamante medallion hanging from one strap. Which sounds weird but it's not.
It was a close call though; it was a side zip on the dress and it wouldn't go up; not me being too big; the zip was just so stiff... had to call the saleslady in to heave on it.
And,lovesbitca I resisted all the siren calls of the scads of ponchos just for you. And when I mention that I mistook a display of Christmas tree skirts for some particularly gaudy ponchos, I think I need say no more....
blue_larkspur and kenyacandoit! Hope both of you have the sparkliest of birthdays with everything you want to happen happening twice :;smooches and hugs::I spared you all my bitter rant on wrapping Christmas pressies when sellotape and I have never got along, never, but I have to vent about the delightful experience that is shopping for a party dress because even your husband thinks it's time you had a new one.
Where to start? The changing rooms, perhaps? The one with a curtain that gaped so everyone in the shop could get tantalising glimpses of, well, me? And a thoughtfully placed chair that occupied 80% of the space so I couldn't get changed without banging my elbows and taking a deep breath? Or the one with no mirror and a saloon height door; so handy when you're 5 foot 10. I complained about the mirror actually; in a nice way, but I felt obliged to point out that not all of us want to swan around the shop looking like a sack of potatoes tied in the middle for all to see and snicker at.
And believe me by then a sack of taties would beat me for glamour without even trying because don't get me started on the unflattering lighting.
It didn't help that I tried most of the stuff on still wearing bra and socks but my hair (which became limp, flyway and wild very fast) and total lack of makeup didn't help either. I looked like a fat, frumpy forty year old with saggy upper arms (why don't they make party dresses that cover up more? We're not all toned and trim! And some of us kind of like wearing a bra, you know...)
And then the dresses themselves... One shop had none. I looked around in bewilderment and collared an assistant. Where, I asked, is the glitz, the glamour? Point me at the sequins, the amusing hem lines, the trailing sleeves. Frock me up.
She gave me a pitying glance and told me that this year they aren't stocking any dresses; Separates Are In.
What? I not only have to find one thing to transform me into a mysterious black-clad hunkess of a night thing, I have to find two? That co-ordinate? Forget it.
And let's, please let's not dwell on the agony of spirit occasioned by my enthusiastic approval of an outfit that was sadly too small, only to watch as two blue-rinse biddies spotted it and went into ecstacies of how darling it was and did biddy A think it would suit her? ::cringes::
But, because this is Christmas and happy endings are de rigeur, I went to Winners and in the space of ten minutes found a long black sheath dress with sparkly jet bead-y things on and a killer pair of party shoes. my last pair I bought in England so they're at least 8 years old. If I make it from the car to the hall tomorrow without falling over, it'll be a miracle but they're divine. Plain black with an ankle strap and there's this antique dull silver/diamante medallion hanging from one strap. Which sounds weird but it's not.
It was a close call though; it was a side zip on the dress and it wouldn't go up; not me being too big; the zip was just so stiff... had to call the saleslady in to heave on it.
And,
lovesbitca I resisted all the siren calls of the scads of ponchos just for you. And when I mention that I mistook a display of Christmas tree skirts for some particularly gaudy ponchos, I think I need say no more....