Dress ups

This weekend I am going to the races. It’s Auckland Cup week and tomorrow is Diamond Day. One of The Tight Three owns a jewellery store so she’s sponsoring the fashion on the field competition (with a $30k diamond for a prize!!!). It means that we get to go and sit at a flash table on the cuvee lawn and drink bubbly all day. It also means that we have to dress up. Like, in a dress. And with a hat. Hilarious. I did it last year and it was a blast. The day ended up in the early hours of the following morning with me tackling a chick on the footpath outside Suite (in my dress) because she had taken my hat and wouldn’t give it back. She said I had to fight her for it. She said it to the wrong girl…

There will be none of that bad behaviour tomorrow. I am now a seasoned races goer and I know how to behave. I am having a fairly typically female dress crisis however. I own a tonne of clothes but it may as well be none, because I don’t want to wear any of them. Having to match to a hat makes it harder. I only have the one hat. And it’s brown. Because I didn’t think of doing anything about that until now, to buy a new hat in the middle of races season will cost me the price of a small car. I guess I could always just pin a couple of peacock feathers to my head and call it fashion. You can get away with anything if you wear it with confidence. Well, almost anything.

Last year in the midst of some showing off, my hat flew over the railing into the path of the oncoming horses. It wasn’t ideal. It scared the hell out of the horse. Actually, that could have been the loud string of expletives that I let loose with. It had probably never heard someone in a dress swear before. Luckily, the hat was returned to me by an angry looking trainer. He was probably more motivated by the thought of having to spend the rest of the day looking at my hat hair than anything else.

Sunny days at the races are the most dangerous. Normally subdued girls turn into animals after a few bottles of bubbly in the sun. Shoes come off. Hats come off. I’ve even seen a dress come off. The shoes I can understand. Stillettos weren’t designed to be worn on lawn. But it’s just not right to wear flats with hats and dresses. So we suffer in the name of fashion.

So I guess I’ll go shopping at lunchtime. Any excuse…


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