What not to wear on a windy day
Over the weekend, Terry and I noticed that we were starting to get some breaks in the non-stop downpour we’ve been experiencing for the past few
weeks months. At first we were afraid. What did it mean, this end to the rain? What was that bright light in the sky that would appear for a few, fleeting seconds, and then be switched off, plunging us once again into miserable darkness?
Well, we waited it out for a while, not trusting the dry spell to continue, but after a few hours without any sign of rain, we decided to chance our luck, and attempt one of our favourite summertime activities: exploring old houses and, well, drinking champagne. So off we went to Hopetoun House, which is an old mansion house which also serves afternoon tea: score!
Unfortunately for me, although the weather was dry and warm(ish), it was also very, very windy. What’s the LAST thing you should wear on a windy day, folks? That’s right: a big-skirted dress with lots and lots of fabric, which will fly up at the slightest breeze.
So, naturally, that’s what I wore.
The dress in question is from River Island, and had actually been on my “to be eBayed” pile up until last week, when I decided to go through said pile and try a few of the things on before selling them/donating them. So I did that, and then… I put all of them back in my wardrobe again. Whoops.
It was only as I stepped out of the car, and immediately flashed two innocent bystanders, that I remembered WHY I had decided to part ways with this dress. Remember this post? The one where I flashed a bunch of people while wearing a big-skirted dress? THIS was that dress. And now it has struck again.
Obviously the dress has a plan. And obviously it’s a plan which mostly revolves around forcing me to flash my underwear as many times as possible. Actually, scratch that: the plan doesn’t revolve around that. That IS the plan. It’s simple, yet powerful in its ability to cause the maximum amount of humiliation in the shortest amount of time. The two people I flashed in the car park, for instance? Got to see my underwear twice. Because first the dress flew up at the front, then, as soon as I grabbed it and pulled it down, it instantly – INSTANTLY – flew up at the back. Mortified.
At least the house was pretty, though.
(Yes, we took too many photos. The place was just too picturesque not to. “It must be nice in the summer,” I said to Terry at one point. He had to remind me that this actually IS “summer”, and not Autumn, which is what it felt like…)