fly, dear dress

If you happen to enjoy other people's misfortunes, read on. If you don't, you can still read on. It might be funny anyway.

I have already posted a few sad, or rather, delightfully embarrassing incidents. This one goes down that list.

Let us begin from the start. As you may well know by now, I happen to have a faint interest in clothes and fashion. I say faint, because, well, this interest began when I started checking out all of these extraordinary fashion blogs. Ever since, I have decided to develop my own style when it came to outfits. And ever since, I have strived and fought every morning, to funkyfy my look. [Most often than not, I failed, but I'll let this thought pass.]

Which brings us back to Do oh oh oh. Today, on the 8th of February, the sun dawned on a cold cold morning, rainy and wet. But I insisted I wanted to wear a summer camel-colored dress, with dot tights, and black boots. Of course my mom gave me her usual reprimanding look, which hid her deeper outrage at my mixing camel with black. It was a classic Mom VS me moment that I let go. So I went out of the house, in a black jacket, and a rather old camel-colored, hippie-looking bag. A bag I had overstuffed with heavy things on many an occasion. I felt good. I thought to myself: today is a good day.

But but but.
I will skip through the [other] classic somebody's-blocking-my-car-so-I can't-get-out-in-the-morning-so-I'm-late moment, and move directly to lunch hour. At lunch, I had this wonderful salad with rocket leaves and shrimps which I ate with pleasure, until my fork slipped on the plate and two sauce-soaked leaves fell on my dress. Okay, okay, I told myself, the situation can get worse, the dress did not get too much sauce on it. I had it all under control, is what I thought. And so I left the office, happy to be free. Free as the wind. And the wind was there. But hold on, I'm still in the office. I hold my old bag... and thud! It falls on the floor, the handle having gotten weak, and the bag having been so [curiouser and curiouser] heavy. Staple, staple where art thou? Hop, I staple the bag and it's [not nearly close to being] as good as new. But I walk out onto the street, confident, because once again, I had solved the issue.

The wind had another plan in mind.
In order to get to the parking, situated one level above the ground and in open air, I had to walk up narrow metal stairs. Imagine yourself wearing an airy dress, easy to blow in the weakest of breezes. Now imagine yourself, wearing an airy dress, going up narrow stairs [with nothing underneath those stairs save for some wild plants and junk], holding tight to your sad, weak, stapled bag in one hand, and your lunch bag, umbrella and jacket in the other hand, the wind is in its full blowing glory. If Marilyn Monroe comes to mind, I'll let you picture me like her. Unfortunately I was only trying to be practical rather than seductive [which is how Marilyn was]. In other words, if someone had taped me on a video-cam, I would have made the audience of the "funny home videos" laugh pretty hard.

Coming back to the story, from which I expertly just drifted away; I had to let go of the bag, to keep the dress from flying. And the minute I did, the bag fell, theatrically, on the plants and the messy [but not disgusting] junk. I must have looked like a mad witch, going down those stairs, my head boiling with shame and just a wee bit of anger. Since I stretched and bent my body forward in order to reach the bag, I don't want to think about what those passers-by saw. Going back up the stairs, the handle of my bag was dangling, limp, and the skirt of my dress, still determined to fly in all directions.

The rest of the story is boring.

But why, I asked myself, did these events keep happening to me? Why? Why me? Why anybody?

Well there's one answer to that question: If these cool, wretched incidents did not take place, then what story would I tell, on a cold wednesday night, to you, readers who never check my blog?

Yes, these stories happen so we can laugh about them later. That's the only reason.

Now off to bed I go. Keep warm everybody, and hold on to the hems of your dresses! Wait a second, don't wear dresses at all in winter! Unless they are super thick and heavy. We can't all be Marilyn.

Tafly!
Sarette from her bette. [alternate pronunciation of bed; used for the sole purpose of rhyming with Sarette.]