To say I was dreading the dinner party would be the understatement of the century. You could say those are just not made for me, but the truth is: I am not made for them. ‘Dinner party’ – especially the one I had been invited to – that sounds like fancy drinks, exquisite cuisine. They are not the problem. I might be clumsy, but I am able to behave now and then, so there is a good chance I will not spill a drink, drop a tiny decorative piece of the (or even the whole) hors-d’œuvre or spill sauce down my dress.
And right away we have entered the realms of the real problem: the dressing part. I generally feel awkward with no matter what kind of clothes I am wearing (and yes, I do wear them, I am not a nudist). They never seem to fit me right or make me look weird. When it comes to an invitation like the one tonight things get even worse. Take a random movie scene of a woman rummaging through her clothes, divide it by lack of valerian pills, add some more frustration and subside some action and find me, sitting on my bed, wardrobe closed, going on how about I have NOTHING to wear. In funny pictures you see this line in combination with an overcrowded wardrobe and people think it is so ridiculous. What is so absurd about that? Yes, there is fabric in my wooden clothes container and I do not claim it is little filled. Still, there is nothing to wear, or let me specify: there is nothing to wear for me! Ergo: I got nothing to wear. Especially not tonight.
There are five sections in my armoire:
The ‘last fit into this three years ago’-one. The ‘bought it cuz I was on diet / planning to go on diet and surely will fit in soon / next season’, the ‘needs to be sewn when I have time’ – ‘matches everything I don‘t have’ and”kept it for sentimental reasons’-one accompanying it. And that is only the stuff that is INSIDE. There is another pile of clothes on a chair that was supposed to be my make-up-seat, but it has been long since I was able to actually use it for that reason and not to stack a one meter-high hill of clothes that have been washed, but just put aside to put more clothes onto my drying rack so they could end up on and make the hill become a mountain.
…By the way; the dinner party started at 8PM and the hors-d’œuvre was a delicious shrimps cocktail. I did not try it, a mate just texted me. When I was still home. Looking for clothes, pondering if there was a chance I would make it till dessert.