Time is short, braincells are few and far between, I am still approximately 76% cocktail (and shortly to engineer a top up in a bar that promises bacon flavoured popcorn, apparently) but I must tap out a few halting sentences for you, because I have a compulsion and all that. Please, if any of you see M, don't tell her I am doing this because she is waiting for me to write something for her, and she has already called me "punk ass" and mentioned something about "encule"ing Thursday and I am quite scared of her.
Where was I? Oh yes, compulsion, writing. I have bought some stuff. I thought I could tell you about it, because I am extremely shallow and that kind of thing makes me happy.
First I bought books. Books are NOT shallow, and because I was drunk shopping I appear to have believed myself to have some sort of intellectual standards. Rather than buying something with a nice cover and a decent review on the back, I have bought two books of poetry (I KNOW. Poetry normally scares me) Louis MacNeice and the collected Auden (after Prog Rock's extensive quoting made me cry). I have bought Susie Orbach's Bodies (that is the name of the book, I have not actually visited her self-service mortuary) and I have bought an interesting book about how awful the French are by LucyWadham (ok, she probably wouldn't agree with that pithy summary). The former has a slight hint of the Oliver James in its assertion that the way you were handled and treated in infancy overwhelmingly informs your attitude to your body, but Orbach manages to present this in a much more thoughtful, less judgmental way. She has lips, too. Also there are case studies which are good for the terminally shallow and easily distracted like me. The Secret Life of the French was very evocative for me, since Wadham has lots of anecdotes about weeping in Paris as a young mother when everyone was being horrible to her that could have been drawn straight from my life (except noone invited me to discreet orgies, I was more often in pitched battle with the dry cleaner).
Next, I bought Girl Stuff you can't get in Belgium - ridiculous snake oil body creams (I am ashamed to say I have bought something called "Bottoms Up! A Butt Lift in a Box". My mind becomes a frothing mass of desire when I see the (made up) word "Adiposlim" and the promise "Zap Cellulite" even though the only thing it is actually proven to do is make me £99 poorer), Armani cosmetics (they are absolute best for me. Number 21 sheer lipstick is genius, as is the Face Fabric foundation), Origins Ginger Body Scrub. I have been applying them one on top of the other until they all peel off in unappealing grey flakes. I really do know how to live.
Finally, having very sweetly been gifted a ticket to a Stella McCartney private sale, my brain went into meltdown at the outrageously good reductions (80% off!) and the heady promise of the second floor "VIP Room" (ha) and I bought a dress. A nice black dress. But! This dress is the clothing equivalent of advanced Sudoku. Initially, it took me about ten minutes to work out how to get it over my head (in a communal changing room with several coltish moddle types). It has several layers and loops and decoy sleeves. I made an attempt to put it on and looked at myself in the mirror. It looked like I had a family of flying foxes hanging off my chest in a way that might have been ridiculous, or might have been merely edgy. I was unable to establish which so turned to a salesgirl for help.
"Am I doing this right?"
"No. It goes like this, then this, then this". With amazing sleight of hand she bundled me up into the dress in an entirely different way. It was a definite improvement, with only 2 flying foxes decorously draped at the front. However, the sleeves were definitely cutting my circulation off.
"The sleeves are meant to be tight"
The rush of blood to the head caused by dress wrestling and the reduced circulation to my arms caused me to buy it. I will post a picture soon if I able to get it on by myself, and if I can't, I'll post a picture of myself trussed up ineptly in a cocoon of material. But EIGHTY PERCENT OFF.
I don't think this blog will be branching out into product reviews any time, will it? Belgian Waffle! Almost guaranteed not to sell your product!