So admittedly maybe I'm not what you'd call a dedicated fashionista, even though I do like to stay on top of the trends (or at the very least, read about them).
And yes, I have been known to turn up in something you'd only be able to describe as a “doozy.” The infamous lime green M&M sweatshirt and moss green corduroy trousers not withstanding, I'd like to think that when I want to and when I have the time, I can cobble something together.
So imagine my surprise (given my, shall we say, less than stellar history) when little old me received an invitation to a haute couture abaya fashion show. After eagerly RSVPing I then did what any girl would do - obsess constantly about what I would wear to the event. I wanted to look like I fitedt in with the fashionable crowd but didn't want to look like I was “trying too hard” either. A delicate balance indeed.
I ended up wearing a long, dramatically printed chiffon maxi. However I did panic when once I was ready, my husband looked over and commented that I needed to “buy more clothes for events like this”. Which once translated from husband-speak means “are you really going dressed like that?”
Of course he realised his well-timed observation would drive me back to my closet about three seconds too late. Literally dragging me away (since we were already running late) he then had to coax me into the lift. However I did manage to throw on a new pair of heels in a desperate attempt to change my outfit somehow.
When we arrived, we were seated in the front and as the lights went dark the show started. Out came preening models with deliciously sheer abayas billowing behind them as they turned on the runway for us to see the laser-cut detailing, embroidery and fantastical shapes on offer.
It was a lovely evening and I couldn't help but enjoy myself, even if my husband didn't like my dress (even though he claims otherwise).
Besides, having him admit I needed to build up my “events wardrobe” (and consequently agree to my next few shopping purchases in wife-speak) was reward in itself.
