I’ve just about recovered from the Two Flights from Hell experience. I’m not quite recovered from the experience of writing that mammoth post about it, mind you, but I’m soldiering on bravely, and the reason I’m soldiering on bravely is because I know you all have but one burning question in your minds right now, that question being:
“What DID Amber decide to wear to the christening?”
And the answer? Why, I wore the WRONG thing, of course. Of course.
After writing that long, rambling post about how I had absolutely nothing to wear and needed to clean out my wardrobe, I actually did go and clean out my wardrobe. But I still had absolutely nothing to wear, and this is because I work from home. Yes, I know I work from home as a fashion blogger, and you’d think that would make a difference, but you would be wrong, folks. The fact is, I sit around the house all day, venturing out only to either go to the gym, walk the dog or have my regular disastrous haircuts. Not only does it seem a little OTT to do all of this in a dress and heels, I’m also way too lazy to make the effort, which means I have adopted the skinny jeans/vest top/cardigan outfit that is my uniform.
When it comes to things like christenings, then? Nothing to wear.
In an effort to try and address this issue, I ordered loads of clothes from the Internet. Then I sent them all back again because either they just didn’t fit or looked really odd on me. See “The One Where I Am Deformed” for background on my really weird shape and how nothing ever fits me right. If you have nothing better to do with your life, obviously.
By the time last weekend rolled around, then, I STILL had absolutely nothing to wear. So for the first leg of our journey, which involved travelling from Edinburgh to Birmingham, to briefly visit Terry’s brother John, I went with my trusty outfit of … er, skinny jeans and a top. Because I am THAT adventurous. Oh, and I also took a cardigan. And a coat. And SPF 50, because the thing about travelling in the UK is that you never know WHAT you might need.
In this case, it was the SPF 50. The sun was absolutely blazing down on Birmingham, and by the time we’d finished walking around the agricultural fair John and Jolene took us to near their house (this was really nice, and I got to touch an owl. Note to self: ask Terry again if we can get an owl.) I had basically melted, and was really regretting the skinny jeans, let me tell you.
Anyway, we had lunch at a cute little country restaurant (we weren’t actually in Birmingham city centre, by the way, but in the countryside surrounding it) and then went to John and Jolene’s house, which was lovely. Then it was time to drive south, to Hertfordshire, where we checked into our hotel and started getting ready to meet my friends Stephanie and Nick (parents of the baby being christened) and most of Nick’s family for dinner. Here’s what I WAS planning to wear to the restaurant:
The problem with this, though? Couldn’t iron it. This was fairly annoying to me because I’m a little bit obsessed with ironing. I mean, I say, “a little bit” – I’m the woman who took her iron with her to Hertfordshire. Yes. And before you say anything, yes, I know hotels normally have irons in them. But I’d stayed in this hotel before, and it had been one of those situations where you have to ask for the iron at reception and they bring it to your room. I knew we were going to have less than an hour to check in and then get ourselves to the restaurant, and what if someone else in the hotel was using the iron at the time, and I was forced to wear really badly creased clothes? WHAT IF, people?
Well, that thought just could not be borne. I iron EVERYTHING. Sometimes I iron things when they come out of the machine, and then iron them again before I wear them. We recently ran a poll on The Fashion Police asking people whether or not they iron, and I was absolutely amazed by the number of people who said they don’t even own irons, let alone use them. How do they do it? How are they not walking around looking constantly crumpled? Because I certainly am, and I DO iron. It boggles my mind.
Anyway, that black dress crumples up like a dishcloth if you so much as look at it, let alone cram it in a suitcase for several hours, so I packed the iron. And of course, there was one in the room. D’oh! But I did not wear the black the dress. No, because it’s a really complicated dress, with lots of different sections that need to be very carefully ironed, and it was screwed up like a dishcloth and I just didn’t have time. So instead, I wore another black dress. Which seriously, was a really, really bad idea given how freaking hot it was…
Anyway, we met up with Stephanie and headed to the restaurant where we proceeded to slowly melt while catching up and drinking way too much wine. Really great to see her again, though: Steph and I have been friends since the first day of university, when we discovered we were the only two girls in the dinner queue wearing high heels. We shared a flat together in Edinburgh for two years (two different flats, actually, both fairly scummy), and now she has a baby, OMG! I haven’t seen her since my wedding, and the weekend made me wish I lived closer to my friends, and not just because maybe they’d be able to stop me wearing skinny jeans or black dresses all the time.
After dinner Terry and I went back to our hotel and had another glass of wine each. Because if you haven’t drank much in the way of water all day, are starting to dehydrate from the heat, and have remembered to bring the iron but forgotten to bring the painkillers, you would totally have another glass of wine at that point. Then we went to bed, and in the morning I got up and got dressed for the christening in….
Yet another black dress! Well, it couldn’t really have been anything else, could it now?
Of course, everyone else was dressed as if for a wedding. And it was boiling. But we still had a fantastic time:: the baby, Dylan, is just super-cute, and my other friend, Morag (also from University) was there, and announced that she’s expecting a baby of her own in January, so it was a day of much celebrating. The weather was glorious, the barbecue was yummy, and I ate about four slices of cake.
But I am now more determined than ever to try and invest in some clothes that aren’t:
a) skinny jeans
b) black dresses
I’m recording this fact here to try and motivate myself to actually do this.
And now I’m going to go and do some ironing.
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