On Sunday I had some epic clothing related fail. You see, entry to the Matches concert unexpectedly provided a free ticket to Badlands, tiny music festival in the same venue on Sunday. However I was already committed to the birthday party of a family friend with my parents. I had not protested this because I'm friends with her daughter, Masha (not that Masha), and I don't see her much outside of family-friend stuff as they live in ~woopwoop and she's embroiled in the HSC.
So. I figured, the birthday's at two, we'll go for a few hours and I'll get my parents to drop me off at Badlands on the way home. I'll catch at least half of it. I therefore took the party theme, Red, to the gothy max with my stripy red and black socks, short skirt and red button top, as well as bright red lipstick and my thriftstore red-and-black granny-hat. I had actually planned on wearing jeans, but my mum insisted they were too ratty for the top, and it's just less effort to comply. Of course, THEN she decided my boots were too ratty for the skirt, SIGH, so I ended up putting the boots in my bag and wearing black shoes of a slightly-toe-pinching and completely lacking in support variety. I figured I wasn't going to have to WALK anywhere at the party, right?
WRONG. WRONG on all counts. For starters, rather than being at the family friends' house, the party was at a previously unmentioned ...boating...shack...thing on Lane Cove or thereabouts. I.e. in the middle of the bush, so already a few hundred metres more rocks and steps than my feet were particularly in the mood for. This ALSO meant that a rowboat was later produced - not a boat BELONGING to anyone present, but one we felt reasonably confident "borrowing" for a tiny expedition to the other side of the bay. "We" was me, Masha, a friend of our parents called Misha and his thirteen~ish yearold son, which was about all that fit in the boat comfortably anyway. And by comfortably I mean with Misha occasionally whacking me in the arm as he rowed. For this little trip I took off my shoes and socks, because no way would they have survived the experience and i couldn't be bothered walking all the way back to the car for my boots.
We threaded between the buoys and sailboats with amusing names until we reached the other side and found a spit of sand where we could pull up the boat. Masha and I wandered about on the rocks for a bit, myself somewhat gingerly as I was a) barefoot and b) WEARING A SKIRT THANKS VERY MUCH MUM. And then... she decided to take a dip. This decision was preceded by a period of wishy-washy handsflailing because, of course, she hadn't thought to bring her swimmers with. Suffice to say she eventually decided to swim in her shorts and black bra, as the only audience was old and politely-turned-away family friends and a boy about our age with a dog. The latter probably appreciated the view but obviously didn't pose much of an embarrassment potential as we didn't know him. Now, I was still expecting to go to a concert afterwards, so I didn't want to get my underwear wet as I didn't have a change of clothes handy. I therefore hitched up my skirt till it was around my ribs and just about covered my ass, and waded thigh-deep. It was actually really nice, if a little FREEZING at first. It'd been a while since I'd been in the water.
Anyway, we got back to the party the same way we left, except Masha wanted a turn rowing, so with rather more zigzag motion and some near misses with Three Sheets To The Wind and Lady Loose Cannon. To be fair, I was supposed to be navigating and couldn't do much better than "right, no no MY right, shit not THAT far right, left! Left! My left! Look out for A Duck's Back! Augh!" Then there were some tedious party games, cute babies and cake. By the time we left it was seven, which meant I could only count on a couple of hours of music... until I read my ticket again and discovered that the free ones come with the disclaimer "must be in by five oclock."
I wasn't TOO disappointed as I don't really know Cog or Kisschasey or any of the other bands on the list, and I was still pretty tired from the Matches and staying out late Saturday night in Newtown with Avi and his friends the architectural psychologist in training and the guy that looks inexplicably like John Cleese with the mustache and sideburns. Still, if I'd had any forethought I could have worn more practical clothing to the birthday party (i.e. NOT A SKIRT FFS) and also gone swimming. Alas!
So. I figured, the birthday's at two, we'll go for a few hours and I'll get my parents to drop me off at Badlands on the way home. I'll catch at least half of it. I therefore took the party theme, Red, to the gothy max with my stripy red and black socks, short skirt and red button top, as well as bright red lipstick and my thriftstore red-and-black granny-hat. I had actually planned on wearing jeans, but my mum insisted they were too ratty for the top, and it's just less effort to comply. Of course, THEN she decided my boots were too ratty for the skirt, SIGH, so I ended up putting the boots in my bag and wearing black shoes of a slightly-toe-pinching and completely lacking in support variety. I figured I wasn't going to have to WALK anywhere at the party, right?
WRONG. WRONG on all counts. For starters, rather than being at the family friends' house, the party was at a previously unmentioned ...boating...shack...thing on Lane Cove or thereabouts. I.e. in the middle of the bush, so already a few hundred metres more rocks and steps than my feet were particularly in the mood for. This ALSO meant that a rowboat was later produced - not a boat BELONGING to anyone present, but one we felt reasonably confident "borrowing" for a tiny expedition to the other side of the bay. "We" was me, Masha, a friend of our parents called Misha and his thirteen~ish yearold son, which was about all that fit in the boat comfortably anyway. And by comfortably I mean with Misha occasionally whacking me in the arm as he rowed. For this little trip I took off my shoes and socks, because no way would they have survived the experience and i couldn't be bothered walking all the way back to the car for my boots.
We threaded between the buoys and sailboats with amusing names until we reached the other side and found a spit of sand where we could pull up the boat. Masha and I wandered about on the rocks for a bit, myself somewhat gingerly as I was a) barefoot and b) WEARING A SKIRT THANKS VERY MUCH MUM. And then... she decided to take a dip. This decision was preceded by a period of wishy-washy handsflailing because, of course, she hadn't thought to bring her swimmers with. Suffice to say she eventually decided to swim in her shorts and black bra, as the only audience was old and politely-turned-away family friends and a boy about our age with a dog. The latter probably appreciated the view but obviously didn't pose much of an embarrassment potential as we didn't know him. Now, I was still expecting to go to a concert afterwards, so I didn't want to get my underwear wet as I didn't have a change of clothes handy. I therefore hitched up my skirt till it was around my ribs and just about covered my ass, and waded thigh-deep. It was actually really nice, if a little FREEZING at first. It'd been a while since I'd been in the water.
Anyway, we got back to the party the same way we left, except Masha wanted a turn rowing, so with rather more zigzag motion and some near misses with Three Sheets To The Wind and Lady Loose Cannon. To be fair, I was supposed to be navigating and couldn't do much better than "right, no no MY right, shit not THAT far right, left! Left! My left! Look out for A Duck's Back! Augh!" Then there were some tedious party games, cute babies and cake. By the time we left it was seven, which meant I could only count on a couple of hours of music... until I read my ticket again and discovered that the free ones come with the disclaimer "must be in by five oclock."
I wasn't TOO disappointed as I don't really know Cog or Kisschasey or any of the other bands on the list, and I was still pretty tired from the Matches and staying out late Saturday night in Newtown with Avi and his friends the architectural psychologist in training and the guy that looks inexplicably like John Cleese with the mustache and sideburns. Still, if I'd had any forethought I could have worn more practical clothing to the birthday party (i.e. NOT A SKIRT FFS) and also gone swimming. Alas!
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