Last night, Terry and I went to an engagement party. As is my usual way with these kinds of things, I used it as the perfect opportunity to dress like… someone who doesn’t know how to dress themselves.
See, I couldn’t be bothered fake-tanning my legs, so I bought me some Sally Hansen “spray on tights”. Now, I know that the words “fake tan” have probably just made you roll your eyes and get all “GOD, fake tan, I would NEVER wear fake tan!” on me. And I know the words “spray on tights” probably made you roll those eyes a little more, and say, “GOD, Amber is a dumbass! Isn’t Amber a dumbass?” but y’all try walking a mile on my “so-pale-they-shine-like-the-moon” legs before you judge me too harshly, ‘kay?
So, spray on tights. Now, I know I’m probably preaching to the “don’t even need to be converted” here, but they’re just not a great idea, you know? Or actually, they ARE a great idea. I mean, tights! That spray on! Who wouldn’t love those bad boys? What’s not such a great idea, though, is buying your spray-on tights from eBay, so, naturally that’s exactly what I did.
It could have worked. OK, so maybe it couldn‘t have worked. All I know is that the fact I was buying the tights ON THE INTERNET, which made it totally freakin’ impossible to judge the colour accurately… well, it didn’t really help. As it happens, the colour I got claimed to be ‘Tan Glow’, but turned out to be good old American Tan, i.e. a colour that no human being has any right to be. So I decided to use it anyway. Because I am stupid.
I’d sprayed one leg from ankle to knee before I realised that ‘Tan Glow’? Wasn’t such a great look, really. Neither ‘tan’ nor ‘glowy’, it made me look like an Oompa Loompah, and I don’t know about you, but that’s just not a look I’ve ever aspired to. So I reached for the emergency pair of tights I’d bought at Asda last week, in preparation for this very eventuality. I dunno, it’s almost like a gift, this ability of mine to see into the future, it really is. Now, you’d think that buying my tights in person rather than on eBay would make it pretty hard for even me to get the colour wrong, wouldn’t you? You’d be wrong about that, though. Because, even although my legs are so pale I look like I’ve just been exhumed, these tights somehow contrived to be even paler. I looked like Courtney Love on a very bad day, and given that every day is a bad day for Courtney, that’s not good, dudes.
So I hit the ‘Tan Glow’ again.
And it still made me look like an Oompah Loompah.
An Oompah Loompah, yesterday.
By now time was a-wastin’ and I could hear Terry downstairs jingling his car keys in that, “I’m not trying to rush you, but actually, I am totally trying to rush you,” way he has, so I quickly washed off the Tan Glow (no, that didn’t go too well, thanks for asking) and rummaged around in my hosiery drawer until I found two pairs of hold-ups I’d forgotten I had. “All of my troubles are over!” I thought, smugly pulling on the first one and ripping it with my bracelet as I did so. I threw it into a corner and managed to successfully clothe myself in two more. As I pulled on my coat, though, one of my freaky premonitions hit me, and I tucked the last remaining hold-up into my bag. Just in case.
As it turned out, it was my dress I destroyed first. See, it was a knit dress, and I was wearing a rhinestone bracelet. Every time I moved my arm, the bracelet would catch on my dress, snagging at the material and leaving lots of little unattractive raised bits, so that I looked like I was wearing an acne-ridden teenager. “COULD YOU NOT HAVE JUST TAKEN OFF THE BRACELET?” I hear you ask, and, indeed, this was the first thing my mum asked when I emailed her this morning to ask if she could fix my dress.
Well, yes, of course I COULD remove the bracelet and I did. I decided to wait until I’d laddered another one of my hold ups with it first, though. Then I went to the bathroom to replace it with the spare hold-up I had cunningly brought with me, only I put my stupid hand right through it as I pulled it on. D’oh!
I emerged from the bathroom looking a little bit like a newspaper: black dress, white legs, red hair. I was very careful not to mention to anyone that I write about fashion for a living.
Still, we had a great time. And hey, I’ve always wanted a ‘Tan Glow’ bathroom anyway…