I am acutely aware that the following is a ridiculous and trivial situation. But I seek your counsel none the less.
On Friday night, I was preparing to go out to a very groovy evening. I had been invited to see Madonna‘s producer/DJ play in a tent in the city and there were to be hipsters, a pop up noodle market and craft beer! This event wasn’t in any old army surplus tent mind you, it was a super dooper dome situation flown in from New York.
Obviously this was serious business. So it required an equally serious outfit.
I have my own way of dressing (to put it mildly). If you think a combination of Freddie Mercury and Bjork with a light dusting of Madonna circa 1989 – you may be somewhere near where I land in terms of fashion choices.
As I got dressed on Friday night I felt good. I felt fresh. I felt like I was pushing the boundaries a little but not so much that people would feel inclined to throw food at me.
I had chosen a high-waisted leopard print skirt purchased from Zara that day, (at a BARGAIN price of $34 mind you!) some black suede ankle boots, an oversized heart pendant and my leather crop top.
As is tradition before I go out, I paraded my outfit for my children to see. Odette, six, who has the exact same dress sense as me just with more pink and glitter involved, said “You look very fancy Mum”. I smiled, enjoying the glowing review probably a little too much.
My eldest Marchella, 12, said: “No Mum”.