Last Friday, as I’m sure you all know, was the day of the Royal Wedding.
What you may not know, but which was actually more important in our house, was that it was also the day my car was due to have its M.O.T. (Which is an annual inspection, for the benefit of those of you outside the UK, who don’t understand my abbreviations. I actually don’t know what M.O.T. stands for either, to be perfectly honest, but I expect approximately 91 of you will tell me as soon as I post this, so I’m not even going to bother Googling it.)
Well, Terry and I watched the wedding, and afterwards found ourselves with just a small window of opportunity in which we had to drop off the car and walk the dog before it was time to… well, before it was time to watch the William and Kate movie on TV. No, I can’t believe I just admitted to that either. Look, I don’t know what happened to me on Friday, OK? It was strange: I didn’t think I was even interested in the wedding beyond a general “I wonder what her dress will look like” curiosity, which I felt sure would be satisfied by looking at the photos online. Next thing I know, though, I’m sitting in front of the screen shouting to Terry, “QUICK! QUICK! YOU’RE GOING TO MISS WILLIAM AND HARRY ARRIVING!” And then I’m all, “Actually, I think I will also watch this made-for-TV movie about the happy couple. Rule Britannia!” What happened to me? We may never know.
Anyway, in order to solve this little dilemma of ours, we came up with a cunning plan, in which we would both go to drop off the car, and then we would walk back from the garage with the dog. So off we went.
Well, we got to the garage, and Terry went in to give them the car keys, while I waited outside with Rubin.
Now, I was wearing a 50s style dress that day. It wasn’t the one in the photo, which is here purely for the purpose of illustration, but it had a similarly big skirt, which was swishing around in the gentle breeze. The problem with that, however, was that as soon as I got out of the car, that “gentle breeze” turned into a full-on GALE. No sooner had I taken up my position outside the reception area of the garage, than a huge gust of wind came along and…
… blew my skirt right up over my head. And I DO mean RIGHT UP OVER MY HEAD. For a few horrible seconds I was naked-but-for-my-underwear from the waist down, and blinded by acres of fabric. Awesome!
“This totally isn’t what happened to Marilyn Monroe that time,” I thought, annoyed, as I fought my way out from inside my skirt. “Why, she just put her hands down, gave a big smile, and looked positively charming. And here I am, half-naked in a car park!”
It took me a freakishly long time to free myself from my fabric prison. Once I was released, I smoothed down my hair and glanced feverishly around the area to see if anyone had witnessed my disgrace. There were a few people picking up cars, but no one was actively pointing and laughing, so I chose to let myself believe that I had managed to get away with it, and had only flashed Rubin. (Who has seen it all before, to be completely honest with you.)
“Well, Rubin,” I said, straightening up from the defensive, crouching position I had assumed in my shame, “THAT was lucky!”
“Not really,” said Rubin. “Because your bare butt is on show RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND.”
No, he didn’t. Because he’s a dog, remember? Dogs can’t ACTUALLY talk. But sure enough, my nether regions did feel somewhat…breezy. Almost as if I was out in public in nothing but my knickers, actually.
I glanced down, anxiously. No, it was fine: my dress was primly covering my knees. And yet…
I turned my head and looked at my right shoulder. There, sitting proudly on top of it was THE HEM OF MY DRESS. The hem of my dress that was ON MY SHOULDER because it had blown up and got caught there, and while I’d managed to get the front of the dress back down again, I had not been so lucky with the back.
Oh, and my OTHER shoulder? ALSO DECORATED WITH DRESS.
So, you’re thinking my humiliation was complete at this point, aren’t you?
Readers, my humiliation was not complete.
Because when I turned round to whisk that dress down from my shoulders, I realised I was standing with MY BACK AGAINST A WINDOW. The window of the garage reception, to be exact. The reception that was full of mechanics and customers and God only knows who else.
And THEN my humiliation was complete.
I’m not sure if anyone saw me. Terry was inside the reception at the time, and he didn’t see my knickers framed in the window, nor did he hear gales of laughter sweep through the room. We’re assuming I got away with it.
But… but… not ten minutes after we got home (me waddling along with my skirt clamped firmly between my knees), the garage called to say we could come and pick up the car.
It’s never been finished as fast as that before. AND it passed the MOT, which I wasn’t really expecting. Suspicious? I think so.
And that’s why I’m wearing jeans all the time from now on.
EDIT: For those of you who asked, the dress in the photo is from River Island!
This weekend, Terry and I decided to take up “swinging”. Well, you know, we’d been hearing a lot about it, we thought we might as well give it a go…
And honestly, now that we’ve tried it, I just don’t get what the fuss was about. I mean, people act like swinging is all controversial, but it’s brilliant!
Terry is particularly good at it:
We did our swinging at Traquair House, in the Borders:
We look like we’re about to move in here, no? We didn’t, though: it was built in the 12th century and, you know, I require better heating than that. Imagine what it must be like when it snows!
Rubin DID get a bit “King of the Castle” about it, though:
This was another double-bagging for Terry and I, and because we’ve seen round the house before, we just stuck to the grounds this time, so the wolf could come too.
Here I am in the maze:
I was dancing like Lady Gaga. As you do.
And here I am in front of Rosslyn Castle, which webagged on the way to Traquair (or double-bagged, I should say. We really need to widen our net here and stop repeating castles…):
Yes, it is next to the famous chapel of the same name. No, we didn’t go in, because we’ve bagged the chapel before, and there were eleventy-one people all queuing outside it. Also, the castle is better, even although it’s ruined. On the way there, Terry discovered an American woman lying in front of one of the walls, as if dead. He started to move towards her to make sure she was OK, whereupon she jumped up, introduced herself, and explained that she HAD intended to go to the chapel, but the particular wall she was lying in front of had “called to her”, and she had been drawn to it by its energy.
“Can you feel its energy?” she asked Terry.
Terry could not feel its energy.
I could, though:
Terry’s new friend then went on to tell him that she could also feel HIS energy, and that it was a GOOD energy. So he was happy. It’s nice when strangers are nice, isn’t it?
I, meanwhile, was told by two separate people who passed me that my shoes were RONG and I shouldn’t be wearing them to walk in because they are OMGHIGH. Because that’s the kind of thing that happens to me. Terry has good energy, I just have RONG SHOOZ.
(They are one of the most comfortable pairs of shoes I own, by the way. I walked for miles in them completely comfortably. AND I WILL WEAR THEM AGAIN TO CASTLE BAG, JUST YOU WAIT AND SEE.)
You know how some people like to “bag” Munros? Um, you probably don’t, do you? I think it’s a Scottish thing. Basically a Munro is a type of mountain: we have a whole bunch of them here, and people like to try to collect the set by climbing each one of them: a process known as “bagging”. I know, it sounded like it was going to be more interesting than that, didn’t it?
Anyway, some people like to “bag” Munros, Terry and I like to “bag” castles, by visiting as many of them as we can. (Our friends Ewen and Gillian are also castle baggers, but we don’t really talk about that because I think they’ve bagged more than us. Dammit!) On Easter Sunday, we decided to “bag” Glamis Castle in Angus, although as we’ve already visited it before, Glamis has technically been “double-bagged” by us now. I’ll stop with the “bagging” thing now, I promise.
I did blog about our last visit to Glamis, but as most of the photos in that post got eaten in The Disaster of 2009, and also because I’m trying to get back into the habit of treating this site more like the personal journal it was when I started it, here are some more. You’re welcome!
When I “bag” castles, I like to imagine that I actually own them. I had to kill 17 tourists in order to get this one photo of me standing in front of Glamis all Queen-of-the-Castle-like.
These are some flowers. They look like hearts. That’s the extent of my knowledge here, unfortunately.
Glamis is one of my favourite castles, not just because of the history (it was the childhood home of the Queen Mother, is the fictional setting of MacBeth, etc, etc) but also because of the ghosts. As Terry mentioned in his holiday journal last year, I’m a complete sucker for books and movies about mysterious old houses which have a deep, dark, secret: ideally one which involves a ghost. I can’t get enough of the things. Glamis seems to me like just such a place:
Seriously, tell me this place doesn’t look like it has a deadly secret…
Glamis does have a few quite famous ghosts, but we didn’t see any of them. I expect the throngs of tourists scared them away. This is probably a good thing. (Note: I don’t actually really believe in ghosts, I just like reading about them, and scaring myself silly later that night when the house is dark and silent, and there comes a sudden creak on the stairs…)
Speaking of Terry, which I, er, wasn’t really, quite a few of you have told me you’d like to see MOAR TERRY on this site, so here he is:
And here are the rest of the family, trying to ruin my prechus photo opp:
I got them back for it, though. I forced my dad to carry my emergency flats around all day:
And I didn’t even wear them, either.
And that was our Easter Sunday. How was yours?
P.S. A few weeks ago I realised, but totally forgot to mention, that Forever Amber turned 5 years old this March. The blog, I mean, not me, the person. I’m a bit older than that, although you wouldn’t necessarily know it, would you? Anyway, I have this huge(ish) archive of posts just sitting here doing nothing, so I thought it might be amusing to take a look back at what I was doing on this day (or thereabouts) in…
2006: I decided to kill Bryan
2007: I headed off on my honeymoon. Airplanes scared me.
2008: Terry created a giant hole in the kitchen ceiling. I was not amused.
2009: I had a massive rant about “gingerism”
2010: I… had another massive rant about “gingerism”. I am nothing if not predictable. And ginger.
Wow, time passes fast, doesn’t it? That scares me almost as much as the ghosts..
Tagged castle bagging, glamis castle, green dresses
It’s been a horrendously stressful couple of weeks. This is the kind of thing that’s been helping us get through it:
Well, that and the wine. Oh, and watching my parents and Terry slide down Arthur’s Seat on their butts yesterday helped too, although maybe not at the time. I mean, when Terry fell, he was clutching Rubin in one hand and our brand new, hideously expensive camera in the other. He raised both of them above his head as he coasted gently down the hillside. My mum, meanwhile, fell once, fell twice, and then couldn’t stop laughing for the rest of the day. Then, when we looked back at the photos of the day we discovered that Rubin had been Up to Stuff we hadn’t even noticed at the time:
(We didn’t write that message, we just stood next to it and claimed credit for it. Which actually reminds me of something else that’s going on in my life right now, I just can’t remember what it is…)
Do you see what he did there?
He is totally standing on my shoulders, OMG! And I had to carry him like that aaaaalllll day.
Wolves. You can always depend on them to put a smile on your face.
(Just one of the hills we’ve had to climb this month. At least this one was our choice…)
(P.S. There are more photos from our Arthur’s Seat expedition over at Shoeperwoman.)
Tagged laura blake, rubin
(So, I haven’t been Frocking lately, as some of you have noticed. I’ve been mostly Skirting instead. Honestly, I’m just totally sick to death of my winter wardrobe by this point of the year, and the skirts didn’t get an airing during Dressember, so I’m putting them into rotation now, before I lose the will to live. Normal Frocking may or may not resume once the weather gets warmer: for now, here are some photos from Shoe Challenge # 4)
Before we go any further here: no, that’s not my new haircut. In fact, that’s not a haircut at all, because these photos were taken on Saturday afternoon, long before my whole “Scissors, meet hair!” episode of insanity, and my hair is just tucked into the neck of my sweater. And no, I will not under any circumstances be getting it cut to that length. In fact, I’m never having it cut ever again, remember?
Anyway, on to this week’s Friend Friday, which is on one of my favourite subjects: beauty products.
1. What’s your favorite drug store makeup product and your favorite higher-end product?
Drugstore: it’s a toss-up between Revlon ColorStay Foundation and any one of Barry M’s nail polishes (but mostly Bright Red, which is my go-to polish. My toes are rarely seen without it.) As much as I love the foundation, it’s unfortunately not quite pale enough for me, so I guess if I had to choose one, I’d choose the nail polish. (If I had to choose just one, I would also cry and whine like a baby, though…)
High-end: No contest: Lancome Hypnose Drama waterproof mascara. I love it like some of you love your children, which is a sure sign that it will be discontinued any day now.
How I wish I hadn’t cut my hair…
2. Is there one type of product that is your go-to, can’t live without?
Yup, mascara. My eyelashes are pale to the point of translucency, and without mascara I look like I don’t have any. That’s pretty scary, to be honest, which is why I’ve been obsessed with mascara since a very young age.
3. What’s the best hair product you’ve ever used?
John Frieda Luminous Color Glaze in Radiant Red. I absolutely loved this (left my hair super-shiny and made the colour more intense), so naturally as soon as John Freida found out, they discontinued it. I may have cried.
My grandmother’s faux-fur jacket. Old enough to count as “vintage”.
4. Fess up, what’s the worst beauty look you’ve tried to rock and look back at now with a little shame or apprehension that you actually did that?
Other than that time I tried to cut my own hair, you mean? That time known as “Tuesday”? Well, there was the poodle perm I had in high school. There was that time right after I first got glasses when I saw my own reflection clearly for the first time in ages, and was so shocked by my freckles that I tried to go to school the next day with a thick coat of talcum powder on my face, because it was the closest thing to a “cosmetic” I could find at short notice. (Fortunately for me, my parents caught me, and told me that once I was an adult I could do whatever I wanted, but that I was NOT going to primary school looking like a Pierrot.)
Looking back, though, I think almost all of my beauty disasters have been hair-related, and other than the perm and this latest fringe, most of those have been the result of bad experiences at the salon rather than deliberate decisions on my part. Makeup-wise, I am very, very boring, and I mostly wear the same makeup every single day. Sometimes I’ll add a little eyeshadow, but always in a neutral colour: I’ve always just used makeup to try and make myself look a little better, I’ve never been into following beauty trends, or getting all experimental with colours, etc. I just stick to what I know – or what I think – suits me, so while I’m sure I’ve had more than my fair share of lipstick that that was the wrong colour, or badly-applied blusher or something, there’s nothing that really stands out. Other than the hair, obviously, but I think I’ve said enough about that for one week…
5. When it comes to beauty products, we all use the same basic products. What do you use that helps show off your personal flair and personality?
See, now I’m all embarrassed, because thanks to the whole “boring” thing mentioned above, I don’t really think I use any product that shows off my personality. I’d try to claim red lipstick (My go-to look involves bright red lipstick and flicked black eyeliner), but everyone does that, so it’s not like it’s my own spechul thing or anything. So it’s not product based, but I guess I’d have to say I reveal my true personality by ruthlessly hacking off my own hair every now and then. I think that probably says more about my personality than any product ever could…
“I think next week I will attack my own head with scissors!”
Oh, and on the subject of my hair (I swear I will stop talking about it soon…), Gemma linked to this photo of Mandy Moore on Twitter yesterday, and I thought, “Hey, that’s my fringe!” So for those of you who are curious, this is roughly what the fringe looks like, although mine is a lot more, um, “ragged” looking:
Er, just to be clear, I’m not comparing myself to Mandy Moore or anything here, it’s just roughly the same style of fringe, although hers looks thicker, blunter and, well, considerably nicer. And the rest of my hair is all the same length, not layered (if a stylist even mentions the word “layers” to me now, I jump right out of the chair and run out into the street as fast as I can go, still wearing my hairdressing “cape” and towel turban. I’ve learned THAT lesson at least…) and is poker straight, so whereas Mandy looks all tousled and sexy here, imagine the top of her head with straight, fine hair attached to it. Yes, I basically have a HAIR HELMET. I’m slightly reassured by this photo, though: not because I think my hair will ever look like that, obviously, but because it proves that it was a good idea in theory. Brave, I was! A fearless hair adventurer! I just didn’t stop to consider that it wouldn’t suit my hair type. Or face. Stupid, I am!
To get back on topic, though: what are your must-have beauty products? Go on, give me something else to bankrupt myself with!
(For more Friend Friday answers, hop over to Modly Chic!)
Tagged beauty products
The Frocking:
(Dress, ASOS (obviously); shoes, Christian Louboutin. Worn on a Valentine’s dinner date with Terry. The shoes were the first to be rescued in my Shoe Challenge, hence the numbers at the bottom of the image…)
The Friend Friday-ing:
1. Since you started blogging has your image of yourself changed?
Since I started blogging in general, no. Since I started taking photos for my blogs, yes, I think it has, more so with the photos I take for Hey, Dollface! because as it’s a beauty blog, and the photos are done for the purpose of reviewing products, they’re normally extreme close-ups of my face, and I defy anyone to look at photos which are THAT detailed and not want to recoil a little. Trust me, it can be pretty scary. Even the photos I take for Shoeperwoman have changed my image of myself a little: I think just looking at so many photos every week has made me notice things I probably wouldn’t have otherwise!
2. Are you self-conscious about any aspect of yourself? If so, do you go out of your way to avoid it or do you post it/talk about it anyway?
Oh hell, yes, I’m self-conscious about lots of things. I’m not going to tell you what they are, though, because in answer to the second part of the question, no, I don’t talk about them. When I was younger, I did: I was the kind of person who would always point out her “flaws”, so if I had a giant spot on my forehead, say (which I often did), I’d be all, “Hi, everyone, I’m Amber: get a load of this spot! I bet you’ve never seen one as big as this before!” I kind of felt like if didn’t mention those things, people would obviously notice them anyway, and, I don’t know, it would be like they had one up on me, or something. As if they’d be thinking, “Ha! Amber has a huge spot and she doesn’t even know it!” So I would attempt to remove this “power” from them by making sure I always mentioned it first, whatever it was. Pretty stupid, no?
These days I don’t go out of my way to draw attention to the things I’m self-conscious about, particularly not on the Internet. I just don’t think there’s anything to be gained from it, and I’ve also learned the hard way that people on the Internet don’t need me to point out my flaws to them – they’re more than capable of noticing them all by themselves!
3. Based on how you are feeling now, what do you think the future holds in the evolution of your body image?
Oh, lordy, I have no idea! I think I’m a lot more comfortable about my body image now than I was when I was younger, so I’d like to think I’ll get even more comfortable with age, but who knows: once everything starts heading south, I may be singing a different tune!
4. Do you photograph yourself for your blog? If so, how do you feel about the experience when you’re having your picture taken?
Yes, I started off taking the aforementioned product review photos for Hey, Dollface, and then last year, when I started the Shoeper Shoe Challenge, I started photographing myself for that. I expect this will come as a surprise to most of the people who read my blogs, but I hate having my photo taken: I always feel really stupid and self-conscious, and this isn’t helped by the fact that I’m a “blinker” – seriously, I can take 10 photos, and in 9 of them I’ll be standing there with my eyes shut and my face all screwed up, so when I’m having my photo taken I have to do this crazy kind of “deer in the headlights” thing where I try to open my eyes as wide as possible and stare like a madwoman. It’s not fun. (Although I guess it might be quite fun to watch…)
(Sometimes I close my eyes deliberately. It’s easier that way.)
5. What would you want every person who struggles with body image to take to heart?
That we’re all our own worst critics, and that the things we’re self-conscious about are often things that are really only noticeable to ourselves. I’ve had so many conversations with female friends where they’ve mentioned something they absolutely hate about themselves, and they’re always things I’ve never even noticed about them, and I don’t think anyone else would either. I think that’s probably often the case: we’re all too busy worrying about our own body image to pick apart someone else’s. One of my favourite quotes on this subject is a really famous one from Cindy Crawford, who once told an interviewer, “Even I don’t wake up looking like Cindy Crawford…” I’ve always loved that, because I think it’s so easy to look at other people, and compare yourself unfavourably to them, but the truth is that we’re all struggling with our own set of insecurities, and no one is perfect. Not even Cindy Crawford.
Um, that was Jerry’s final thought for today. Until next time, take care of yourselves – and each other…”
(More Friend Friday answers at Modly Chic, more Friday Frocks on Facebook)
Oh, and for those of you who don’t read Shoeperwoman, a short video of my shoes, filmed by Terry. I do warn you, though, you will feel like you’ve just watched porn after viewing this…
Tagged asos, christian louboutin, green dresses, shoes
(Dress, Dorothy Perkins, Shoes, Nine West)
So, I wasn’t going to bother with Frocking Friday this week. You see, that lurgy I was complaining about earlier this week still hasn’t quite released me from its grips (I slept with a couple of “tissue tusks” up my nose last night. So that was fun.), which means that I haven’t even been wearing MAKEUP this week, let alone dresses, and trust me, you do not want to see me without makeup. (I’ve also switched the original photo I had here for this one, because even although I was wearing makeup, you wouldn’t necessarily have known it to look at me. Damn, I hate the cold!) I have been wearing clothes, obviously, it’s just been more-or-less the same clothes every day. And by “clothes” I may or may not be referring to my dressing gown.
Anyway! Today is the day designated for Frocking, so I figured it was as good a reason as any to drag myself out of the doldrums and put on some actual clothes, so here I am, dutifully wearing this blue dress which was dragged screaming from the depths of the wardrobe this morning (“ME?” the dress seemed to say, incredulously. “But you never wear ME! Unhand me this second, you varmint!”), and which was accessorized with a cardigan the second I finished taking these photos, because it snowed this week, and no, it was NOT PRETTY. I mean, it’s all melted now, of course, but far be it for me to allow a meeting with my mortal enemy to go un-whined about.
And now back to my regularly scheduled coughing and sniffing…
P.S Hop over to Facebook to see what everyone else is wearing this Friday!
(Dress, ASOS; Shoes, Dune)
Because I am a shameless outfit repeater, last weekend I wore this black ASOS dress again. (I also used my super-powers to turn the whole world black and white, except my shoes. Yes, I can do stuff like that. You should fear me.) It has totally become my Most Favourite Dress in the Wold, Ever. Or until next week, anyway. In fact, I’m going out tomorrow night, and I may even wear it again. This is why I’m not a daily outfit blogger.
These photos were actually taken for the final installment of my Shoe Challenge, which ended this week, with me having dutifully worn and photographed every single pair of shoes I own in the space of a year. I’m very relieved that’s it’s over. Here I am looking suspicious relieved.
Yes, I’m still doing THAT hairstyle, although at this point it’s mostly because I’ve entered into one of my regular “I Hate My Hair” phases, which hasn’t been helped by the realisation on Wednesday morning that one side of my hair is longer than the other side. Which is why I’m going to have to bite the bullet and pay a visit to the torture chamber hairdresser this afternoon. I’ve avoided this for months now, but it looks like I have no choice. (Admission: don’t all shout at me at once, but I have seriously considered trying to trim it myself, or get Terry to do it. THAT’S how much I hate having my hair cut.) Once my little “lopsided” problem is resolved, though, I should be good for another six months or so. Or possibly forever. And I’ll end up like Rapunzel, or one of those crazy women you see on the news every so often who don’t cut their hair for fifty years and end up in the Guinness Book of Records. So that’s something to look forward to, I guess.
Anyone else frocking today? Join us here if you are!
When we were on holiday in December, we had the greatest maid in all the land. Her name was Sandra, and I wanted to take her home with me. (OK, full disclosure: it turned out that her name wasn’t Sandra at all, but Terry and I spent the entire trip thinking it was, so she will be known as “Sandra” for ever more. Luckily we didn’t ever call her that to her face, though, because that would’ve been embarrassing, a bit like that time in Florida when we took an airboat ride and Terry spent the whole thing calling the driver of our boat “Capt’n Tom”, even although his name was actually Jim.)
On the first day of our holiday, we returned to our room to get changed for dinner, and discovered this:
Yes, that’s my nightdress. Let’s take a brief moment here to think about the depths I have sunk to, that I have now been reduced to posting photos of my nightie on my blawg. It’s not what my parents had planned for me all those years ago when they spent all that money sending me to university, I’ll tell you that for nothing. That aside, though, would you lookit my nightie! It’s shaped like a butterfly! Rest assured that I did not leave it like that. No, I probably left it scrunched up in a ball somewhere, but Sandra, God bless her, found it, and arranged it like this for me. LIKE. A. BUTTERFLY. I mean, OK, at first I was a bit, “OMG, someone has been touching my nightie! That I slept in last night!” But once I got over that, I was all, “meh, I wonder if we could afford a maid at home who would do this for me?”
Sandra was just getting started with us, though. Oh day two, we returned home to find this:
Not only was the nightdress shaped like a butterfly, SO WERE THE BEDCOVERS.
“That’s it,” I told Terry, “We’re taking her home with us.” Then I walked into the bathroom and discovered that Sandra had arranged all of my makeup in order of size. I. Almost. Died. “You better learn how to do this stuff,” I shouted to Terry. “Or I’m never going home!”
But! There was more! You’ll notice that only my nightclothes are represented in these images. Let’s not think too hard about why that might be, mmmkay? Sandra DID think about it, though. I think it probably bothered her. That’s why on day 3:
She actually went into Terry’s wardrobe, removed a t-shirt, and folded it neatly on his side of the bed (WAIT: how did she know it was his side of the bed? God, I started this post thinking it would just be a humorous story about Sandra the housekeeper, and before I know it I’ve uncovered the sinister truth about the hotel we stayed in. The Famous Five done taught me good.), kind of like a massive hint to Terry. “Would you just WEAR SOMETHING to bed, like a decent, God-fearing person!” I imagine Sandra muttering to herself as she laid out this shirt, her heart filled with reproach. Or maybe she just thought it would look nice?
You’ll also note that this was the day a new Nightie Shape was introduced:
(Why yes, we DID document our nightwear on vacation. Doesn’t everyone?)
I dunno, I think I preferred The Butterfly to be honest. Still, she had to double up on her work that day, what with the t-shirt and everything, so I’ll let her off.
The nightwear shapes continued all week, halting only at the weekend, when Sandra had a couple of days off, and the replacement housekeeper didn’t bother with the shapes. We were kind of gutted. I expect Sandra was, too. In fact, I like to think that on her days off she lay awake at night thinking, “How will that red haired one know what to wear to bed tonight, HOW?!
The following Monday, however, Sandra was back in action, and she had a little something special planned to make up for her absence:
She left Terry a FLOWER! And premiered a new design for the bedsheet! (And, of course, the butterfly nightdress, but by then that was the very least we’d come to expect.) Look how happy I am to see this bed, people! I haven’t been that happy since I got back, seriously. God, I wish I hadn’t started this post, it’s really making me want a holiday…
After that, we stopped documenting the housekeeping, because let’s face it, it’s a bit sad to take photos of your bed every day, isn’t it? It’s like those people who take photos of what they wear, and… oh. *nervous laugh*
We didn’t stop speculating about what wonders Sandra would perform next, though. I was sorely tempted, in fact, to start setting her little challenges, like leaving a bunch of clothes and shoes on the bed and seeing if she would correctly match them, for instance. I also really wished we’d brought Terry’s gimp suit from Halloween (I can’t believe I have a lifestyle which allows me to type the words “Terry’s gimp suit…”. I feel a bit weird, now.) and left it under the pillow, just for the sheer hilarity of coming back from the beach one day to see it spread out on the bed, next to my nightdress. “I wonder if she would arrange it like a butterfly?” I wondered. And then, once I’d imagined this, I couldn’t stop laughing about it. I seriously laughed for about three days straight. I’m actually laughing as I type this…
(Um, we didn’t actually set Sandra challenges, or anything like that, by the way. Because that would make us a couple of assholes. We just made sure to tip her well, and I’d also sometimes get up an hour earlier than we needed to, to clean the room before she got there. Well, I wouldn’t have wanted her to think badly of us, you know?)
Anyway, all of this is apropos of absolutely nothing at all, it’s just that I was looking through the holiday photos the other night, and I saw these and was reminded of… well, better days, basically. I have a bunch of other untold holiday stories to tell you, too. Next week: the mysterious tale of Stripey McStriperson, the only woman in the world to out-stripe Amber: try not to get too excited, people…
(P.S. If you liked this post, please consider following me using Google Friends Connect!)
(Dress, George at Asda; cardigan, Miss Selfridge; belt, gifted; boots, Dorothy Perkins)
Folks, I have a confession to make, and I’m just going to get it out of the way, so we can all move on with our lives. These photos were not taken today, Friday. They were taken on Wednesday. Yes, I cheated on Friday by frocking with Wednesday instead. And just to make matters worse, rather than repenting of my sins and asking Friday to take me back, I’m planning to do it again, and not just with Wednesday, either. In fact, in the future I may frock with Monday, Tuesday, Thursday: you name it. I am a frocking slut, in other words. (I’ve taken this analogy a bit too far, haven’t I? Is it making anyone else feel a bit uncomfortable?) You see, while I have no problems at all with the wearing of the dresses, Friday is a total bitch of a day in terms of finding time to take photos, upload them, or, in fact, to do much of anything. (For this reason, my Friend Friday posts are normally written on Thursday, and scheduled for Friday. Damn, I’m shattering illusions left right and centre here, aren’t I? Next I’ll be telling you the Easter Bunny isn’t real!*) So, in future, I’ll just wear the dress and take the photo at some point in the preceding week, and post them on Friday. I wear dresses almost every day anyway, so I’m sure it won’t be too much of an issue. And we’re all adults here, after all, aren’t we? Yes?
(That was a really long and boring blog-adminy paragraph, wasn’t it? Sorry. I guess I could’ve just taken the photos whenever I wanted and not told you, but the guilt of the deception would’ve kept me awake at night. That’s probably why MI5 didn’t reply to my letter about becoming a spy that time.)
(Those tights are navy, not black. Just FYI.)
So, on Wednesday I had an appointment with the dentist, and as my dentist is just a couple of miles from this little bit of coastline, I took the opportunity to dress like a sailor for the occasion. That’s why they call me “Amber McNautical” – shish boom!
Actually, I felt pretty stupid wearing a nautical dress around actual boats. It made me feel like the kind of person who would wear a wetsuit to watch a surfing competition on TV, say, and even although I totally am the kind of person who would do that (When I was a child, I entered a crappy little gymkhana that my riding school held. It was a totally low key, for-their-customers-only kind of affair, with maybe five or six competitors, most of whom were about 5 years old, but I insisted on turning up wearing full show jumping regalia, right down to the black coat and white tie. I looked ridiculous, but I felt like THE BOMB, so I guess that’s all that mattered. Also, I totally kicked those toddlers asses at riding, and I’m not even joking.) I did spend a bit of time worrying that there would be some kind of nautical emergency, and people would look to me to solve it. The cry would go up: “Is there a sailor nearby?” Then all eyes would turn to me and I would be forced to admit that I’m not actually a sailor, I just play one on the Internet.
(Not What Sailors Wear)
(Note to self: learn how to do some nautical stuff, like avasting the mainsail or tying knots in things or something, just in case this situation actually arises one day. And it’s always useful to be able to tie knots in things, isn’t it?)
(Also, maybe start referring to people as “me hearties”. That’ll help.)
(“Amber McNautical”. God, I crack myself up sometimes…)
In other dress-related news, my ASOS order finally arrived, having been placed on January 7th and dispatched on the 11th. It’s been sent to my parents’ house though (my fault – I must have had their address saved in my account since December, when I got something shipped to them while I was on holiday) so I haven’t seen it yet. I also received an Adam dress from Shopbop (more on this later – it’s part of a promotion we’re doing with them), which I ordered late on Tuesday night, and which arrived first thing this morning via UPS. If only Royal Fail were taking notes!
Anyway, me hearties, that’s about it for this week. Tune in next Friday for another thrilling installment of Frocking Friday, the blog series where I wear dresses so you don’t have to, although obviously you’re more than welcome to join us if you want to.
* The Easter Bunny is totally real, relax.
Tagged frocking friday
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