Monday, 4 March 2013

Fancy dress fun



  I love fashion and dressing up and perhaps it's a bad idea to begin my blog with a post about fancy dress but this is how it has happened. For a while I have been thinking of starting a blog and wondering what I would write about in my first entry but I wasn't sure how to start. That changed when I got home on Friday night and the contents of my walk in wardrobe had been emptied all over my bed by a workman who had come to fix the light in it. Its formally colour coordinated contents looked like a massive lace and crimpeline monster, a hulking mass slumped on the bed. I looked into the bare cupboard and noticed that the clothes had been hiding embarrassing graffiti on the walls that I did when I was a teenager. I stepped over a badge that said “Fonz is cool” on it and decided that there was no time like the present to start getting rid of needless tat.
  I had put off going into the depths of the wardrobe to get rid of stuff, mainly because there is an ancient camcorder in there with horrifying (yet hilarious) videos on it written and directed by me and my best friend from school and I can’t be arsed to figure out how to put them on the computer. One of these videos was a 5 minute short called Porkymon, a meat puppet show extravaganza starring a lump of SPAM with ears (named Porkachu) and 3 sausages. Don't even ask. I was a freak when I was 14…but a freak with an imagination I hope you’d agree. Perhaps I still am a freak though, as the thought of Porkymon still makes me laugh 14 years later.
  So I have now started hauling all my belongings that I don’t particularly need out of the cupboard and into the bin/Ebay pile. Getting rid of stuff is so satisfying. Then I came across the dressing up box . I’m 28 and have a dressing up box…definitely still a freak but I love fancy dress and love any excuse to get kitted out. Also, maybe I will need the homemade Siamese twin outfit again one day or the scary mask that gave me nightmares after I made it.
  Now my everyday, real life clothes are all re-hung in colour order and so are the hanging moth repellents but I still am too embarrassed to watch the dreaded camcorder videos so I just put them back in the box for another few months.

Nightmare!

Actually gave me nightmares.

  On Saturday, before I managed to finish re-hanging my precious garments and boxing up afro wigs, tiaras and the Siamese twin costume (which takes up a lot of bloody space by the way), I had to go to work for a few hours. I decided to walk home as it was a lovely sunny day and I knew that on the way home there were a few charity shops. I love a bargain and a good rifle through other peoples' tat and some of my favourite items have been found in junk shops and charity shops. After for some reason venturing into Matalan, a metropolis of shite clothes for fat arses, crap mens’ t-shirts with supposedly amusing anecdotes celebrating being drunk on them and shoes that look like they will fall apart at the seams after a few hours of wear, I stumbled back out into the sunshine, dazed and annoyed at myself for getting sidetracked. I should have known that Matalan obliterates a good mood in an instant but I thought I would at least give it a chance. I won’t be making that mistake again! Luckily my mood was lifted as I found myself passing a new charity shop that I had never been into.
  There it was, the perfect finishing touch to my latest fancy dress outfit (an 80s party). A pink and black jacket. Shoulder pads, tapered sleeves, cropped and covered in black velvet flowers…it is both vile and fantastic and was only three quid. I had to walk about another mile to a cash-point as I only had some woeful amount of money in my purse, like 80p or something. I also found a £2 friend for the jacket, a black velvet top with stupidly huge puffed sleeves with dots on and a scalloped neckline. It sounds horrid but it’s actually pretty cool and as they’re both vintage I can sell them on.
  I came up to my mum later that night, kitted out in the jacket  and the rest of my outfit, crooning “Do you really want to hurt me?” She tried to ignore me at first until she saw what I was wearing and burst out laughing then told me “you look like a gay man dressed as Boy George.” Result! Now I can’t wait for this party next weekend…