In a few weeks I’ll be going to the first formal dinner I’ve been to in probably a year. It’s not that there haven’t been opportunities for formal dining, because there have. There have been quite a few (I’d hate to be more specific, so I’m going to be completely non-specific: a few) but I’ve turned them all down. And the reason for that is simple: dress code.
It’s amazing how much of a role the dress code plays. In this case, the ever vague “formal”, which I took to mean “ladies wear dresses, men wear suits”. I can honestly say, hand on heart, I would literally rather punch a bear than wear a dress. OK, maybe I actually wouldn’t rather punch a bear, but you get my point. Dresses, as far as I’m concerned, are the work of a greater evil than I can comprehend. Why would you even do that? What’s the effing point?
My objections to dresses run from the simple “where the flip am I meant to put my phone” to “my legs are literally cold” to “I hope nobody minds a flash of my armpit hair”. There are quite a few objections to having to wear a dress. In my humble opinion, a dress is as much a practical suggestion as a banana wearing sunglasses. Cool, maybe. Sensible, no.
Now, I acknowledge that some of my issues with dresses could possibly be solved by tights and a sturdy razor. But frankly those are torture devices in and of themselves and only serve to compound the issue.
Which is why I’m so thrilled to have (finally) found a dress I can actually bloody wear.
the first is that it’s actually quite long, isn’t it? A bit taller than me. So high shoes may well be in order.
And the second is that it doesn’t entirely fit in a billowy sort of way, so I’m having to get it tailored otherwise things could get a tad embarrassing when I sit down. or lean.
all things considered though, this seems like the answer to all my prayers. So to speak.