. . . for someone else’s wedding. I bought this yonks ago when Dickinsons were getting married nearly every other weekend. I don’t think I’ve worn it since the last of the previous generation got fired off, and there’s been a lull while the next lot grow up. There is a truly fabulous hat that goes with it, but as a mere member of the wedding–a member, furthermore, hiding in the back row ready to dart upstairs and grab a bell rope*–this did not seem to me suitable. Sigh. It’s a big black straw thing with red roses and veiling and I adore it, but I don’t lead a red roses and veiling sort of life.** Which is a good thing. But . . .
Fortunately Peter has many other talents and virtues because photo-taking is not among them. Be sure and get all of me! I said, repeatedly. So when I went to plug in the camera I discovered three photos of me cut off at the knees which not only is not all of me but looks really dumb. So here’s a cropped one to which I invite you to observe that I’m wearing make up. The last time this happened was probably the last time I wore this dress. Most of the time I don’t care if I’m wiped out by the brilliance of my apparel but this dress gets all sad if you look like a ghost in it.*** I’m not sure if you can see the eye paint behind my glasses, but the lipstick is what I could get on a Friday afternoon in a small town corner pharmacy. Apparently deep hot pink/non-scarlet reds are not in vogue at the moment. At least not in small town corner pharmacies. Last time I needed lipstick for this dress I was spoilt for choice.
* At which point where would I put the hat? This is not a hat you just idly lay down any old where and we don’t have padded velvet hat stands nor even coat check personnel in bell towers.
** Even without the hat, Oisin, who was playing organ, blinked at me a couple of times and said, you scrub up rather well. Maybe I should change out of the muddy jeans for my piano lessons. No, I can’t be bothered.
*** It’s even worse if you’re wearing The Hat.
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