I kid you not - I just found the journal that I kept in my late teens. The one that includes an entry about one of the outfits that I gave to Oxfam yesterday - I have typed it out, warts and all, below. I can offer no special comment or insight - I suspect that the post is self explanatory and I hope that it does not offend anyone!
Title: Post L's Wedding
I have so much to say. I must write a thank you letter to L and E. L looked so beautiful, she is beautiful. M is the traditional, private schoolboy, hunting type - no, not private rugger type, the clipped military type...
...upright, neat and restrained. He already looks like a rich parent (well, a nanny towing one) and who could ever think of their parents in bed without grimacing?!
I did go to the church with A and A, C, J, E and M. It was a tiny, white painted chapel in the village where J and P live, Stadt, near Wavre. It had a cobbled path from the gate to the door and was built into a white painted painted wall. A chapel that was, at one point, part of a great house.
I wore mum's burgundy red, long silk shirt and green jeans. We went back to the hotel, changed, then met mum and Tony. Arianwen looked lovely in her Warehouse dress and my black velvet cropped top. Anthony wore his Howells suit and mum her green silk dress. Tony wore a suit.
Me? I had spent a week bunking off college to find the perfect outfit. I had dragged poor Sarah around the most ridiculous shops and tried on some of the most unflattering outfits. Depression raged. All the 14s were really 12s? (Well I think so. Miss Forever 14!) Been flustered by shop assistants who I still feel slightly inclined to go back and quietly poison for overdoing their jobs!
Well. Good old Jigsaw. That's all I can say! They provided the little black number which was how I wanted at the front. Sleeveless, knee length. Miles Gill provided a cut price Karen Boyd bolero which I think is amazing (whether I will in another 5-10 years remains to be seen)! Long sleeved. Black but with brocade ribbon and beaded sleeves. I bought myself some black silk underwear (Knickerbox) black support tights (Boots) and black suede shoes froms Clothesrail.
I greased my hair back, got a gold glittery watchstrap and gold spraypaint earrings (also fom Boots) - I was set! The only problem I had was walking in my shoes, which slipped against my tights! So I stuffed them with toilet paper! Every girls' best friend! Ho ho ho.
The food was amazing. Champagne flowed. Goat's cheese in little new potatoes, salmon toasts. Mussels in a delicious sauce. The main meal was fois gras with sultanas and sweet white wine, sea bass or conger eel! The wedding cake and dessert (two massive tressle tables loaded with yummy things). I only had a small (honest) piece of chocolate mousse cake and fruit on choux with some raspberry sauce and cream. But some peoples' plates were spilling over with desserts, pudding and afters of every description. Then coffee. Then the dancing.
Ahh. The dancing. The french speaking people have a skill for awful pop music. Then they played jive and rock and roll twist - that I have never been able to do - not even when dragged onto the dance floor by an enthusiastic, married portugese man. Then it was the trad English jig music that I was dragged on to dance to with M - it's alright, I paid him back!
I went flying, yes flat on my face in my heels and bought him crashing down with me! It was a bit shameful. In front of 150 Belgian people but whilst I was devoured by shame in the corner, he fell over again! On his own - so maybe everyone will blame him. Either that or he was being the complete gentleman and fell over again to protect my dignity....?!
Who am I trying to kid - he was drunk!
We left soon after. The speeches were very emotional.
Note 1: wow...now I remember why I kept hold of that outfit for so long! Do you think that Oxfam would sell it back to me? Or shall I let it go gracefully into the night?!
Note 2: I apologise formally for any offence caused my teenage comment about French pop music. I am sure that it all changed out of recognition since then.
Note 3: L is no longer with M but she is happy and she is still one of the most beautiful people that I know.
Note 4: it's funny to note that I was just as verbose in my teens as I am now - sorry!
Note 5: I note from my journal that my underwear was Knickerbox and not M&S, as I thought. Trust me, my knickers were still huge at that time. When I was in my late twenties, it took my neighbour (and friend) two years to talk me into trying knickers with less fabric acreage and um? I am still not convinced!