For anyone who has ordered clothes on line, the inevitable barrage of emails offering incentives to buy are now just part of modern life. At the moment, however, they are slowly pushing me over the edge. Take, for example, this mornings offerings. “The Secrets of Summer Layering…….for chic summer days” “Things are hotting up for summer….are you ready?” or “Your sunny day essentials”. I’m sure if my mailbox could laugh it would probably have wet itself as it offered me a range of layering options from vests, to t shirts, through to little summer dresses, accessories and scarves that would, of course, see me effortlessly through from the beach to the cocktail bar. Perfect!
Well it would be, if Scotland hadnt morphed into Alaska. Don’t get me wrong, the sun has come out a few times but any time it ,makes a welcome appearance, any warmth is quickly dissipated by the biting, freezing gale that seems to be on a permanent setting from somewhere in the North. It actually snowed on the hills today. Snow! It’s bloody June.
So, I’ve done what any sensible girl should do in this situation and booked another holiday to Ibiza. Not until September, but at least it gives me something to look forward to if the sun doesn’t decide to show up in the Highlands, the temperature doesn’t manage to drag itself above 12 degrees C. and my chic, floaty summer layers remain shivering sadly in the wardrobe.
And if the sun does come out, then hopefully I’ll be able to return my order of the above.
In my last post from Ibiza I forget to mention that we did not, in fact, travel back alone for in our custody was a little friend who has now come to represent something significant. Let me introduce Dylan.
Dylan, (not quite sure how he got his name), in his physical state is nothing more than a piece of dried lime peel but he has eyes and a mouth and of course a name and because he has a name he has a personality and to be honest, we have all become a little bit attached and because we are a little bit attached, we are all becoming increasingly concerned for his well being. You see Dylan is homesick, pining for the sun, his maker and the place of his birth and basically he needs to be taken home and as Amelia was very cleverly given custody of poor little Dylan, some difficult decisions now have to be made.
The upside, if there is one, to getting older is wisdom, the type of wisdom that comes from experience and if used sensibly, can help us to point ourselves and sometimes others in the right direction. It’s not easy to quantify, often it’s just a gut feeling, a feeling that something just is the right thing to do.. At the beginning of this blog, I said that life is short and sometimes when we are suddenly given choices to make that we weren’t expecting, it’s easy to take the safe option even when you have youth well and truly on your side. What we have to remember, however, is if the safe option doesn’t actually make your soul happy, then it really isn’t the safe option at all.
And so, after much begging and pleading, it’s the big reveal. A pair of trousers (or slacks) as my granny used to call them, which I couldnt even get away with in Ibiza let alone a wee Highland Toon.
I have no idea what possessed me, other than the after effects of the Jacaranda Bar’s Crazy Mandy’s Cocktails combined with too much Ibiza sun but if I look back I seem to have previous for buying dodgy trousers while on a trip,.and by trip I mean a girls trip, not a psychadelic trip. My last dodgy pair, and I have to admit to it being a rather long time ago when my kids were young and I had been let off the leash for the first time in ages, was purchased in Ayr as my lovely friend Mo and I wandered aimlessly around the town having missed our flight to Dublin. The rest of the girls had made it of course, but Ryan Air soon had us booked on the next flight. If I remember rightly, Alex Salmond was wandering the streets too that day but he has nothing to do with the trouser purchase. The trousers in question this time were, wait for it, black pvc but at £8 they were a bargain compared to the 30 euros I forked out for these ones. I’m sure we both bought a pair and actually I still have mine but they have never seen the light of day since the Dublin trip. Yes I did wear them out because the other girls made me and yes, it was a very sweaty relationship but I feel a sort of affection to them probably because it was my first break out from the constraints of early motherhood and probably I just needed to do something radicle.
And thats the thing with clothes, they label us and categorise us into stereotypes. By dressing a certain way we send out a message to the world that this is who we are or who we would like to be and where we want to fit in and too often we let ourselves be drawn into conforming to a type that just doesnt really represent who we really are. Why we do it, I have no idea, its a little bit sad really and I know when Ive done it, because I ending up spending the whole day or night feeling uncomfortable and not quite myself. And so maybe, just maybe I thought that the multi coloured snake skin flares ( cant belive I just wrote that), represented something, (God knows what) that I just needed to express all these years down the line now the chicks are flying the nest and freedom is once again on the horizon
Or of course, they could just as easily represent the fact that at the time of purchase, I was actually still pissed.