Next year I’m wearing pants and a turtleneck.
The party was a success! My outfit came together perfectly, and I felt like a modern-day princess — albeit a very c-o-o-o-o-old princess. Not just outside. But even inside the Marriott it was FUH-REEZING. The entire evening. So that was kind of a downer. It’s hard to enjoy yourself when you want to curl up in a little ball and hide under your winter coat the entire evening.
I did squelch the desire. After all, there is no suffering too great for the sake of fashion. Or so they say.
In fact, just yesterday when I was getting my nails done I was thumbing through a recent People magazine, and there was a short interview with Victoria Beckham. In it she declared that she doesn’t mind being uncomfortable when the outfit is worth it. “It’s FASHION!” she exclaimed, as if that explained everything.
And as I read it, I was all, Right on, Sistah!
But after last night, I’m not so sure. Could it be that I’m not the slave to fashion I thought I was? Because those ladies in long sleeves and pants looked so cozy and warm. Perhaps I need to invest in a nice pashmina. Oooh! Oooh! An excuse to go shopping. Gotta love that.
So anyway. Here is the obligatory picture.
Okay, a serious one, although I look totally stiff.
And one of Paul and me for good measure. He is, after all, the reason I get to dress up and go out to a fun holiday party every year.
The food was fabulous. It’s a good thing my skirt didn’t have a waistband because I ate until they had to roll me out the door. For the first year we had a band instead of a DJ, and they were pretty good. We danced to a few numbers. If nothing else, it got the blood circulating. It was the only time all evening I wasn’t shivering.
We didn’t win any door prizes, but we did get a nice gift — a box of fancy-schmancy chocolate and candy covered pretzels. YUM.
So that’s that. Until next year . . .