Thursday, August 23

I decided to dress up smart for once. I put on a black dress (not very exciting I know, but very rare to see me in a dress), a pair of grown up heels that were highly unsuitable for the streets of Pos and a pair of dangly earrings that I could only wear for about 4 hours before they drove me mad and I would rip them off and shove them in my bag.

I was going to a small concert. An American Broadway singer was going to play and sing a few pieces on the terrace of a nearby hotel and I had arranged to meet up with a few girls. As I walked up the road, tugging self conciously on my dress, a group of taxi-drivers turned to watch. "Buona Sera!" they called, seeing a female in a dress. Maybe they didn't recognise me,they normally didn't bother saying hello to me.

As I arrived at the hotel entrance my friends appeared from the other direction. We walked up to the hotel terrace and ordered drinks. I felt very elegant and sophisticated until I shifted in my chair and one of the chairlegs became lodged in a gap in the paving stone. I lurched backwards, spilling my martini over my dress, other arm windmilling frantically. My friends giggled in delight and I relaxed, having destroyed the 'elegant' image, I could just be myself.

The singer came on and worked his way through a number of broadway love songs. We quietly sang along with him. One of my friends whispered, "thank God we left the men at home!" I imagined them sitting there, bored, unappreciative of the music, planning their escape. I looked around, we were the only local people apart from a jaded old playboy who lounged by the balcony railings, his shirt unbuttoned exposing a slightly wrinkled, grey haired chest and of course, a gold medallion.

I shifted in my chair again without thinking, and again lurched dangerously as the gap in the stones swallowed up the chair leg. Oh well, at least I was amusing my friends, I thought. After the concert finished we were waylaid by the hotel owner who mused on whether the piano should have been moved over to the terrace, providing music with the bonus of the view of the town behind the singer.

It was gone 1am, my earrings hurt. I took them off and slipped them into my bag. We all walked down to the road and said goodnight. I started walking down towards home, it wasn't far, but walking down hills in high heels is not one of my talents. I stopped, took them off and carried them home, pratically skipping with relief as my heels touched the ground.

I'll never be one of those effortlessly glam women, I thought later, as I scrubbed my feet in the shower, its impossible here. I either end up walking barefoot, carrying my shoes, or spend ages on my hair, only to have to cram a helmet on top of it and get it blown to bits as we race to our destination on the motorino. But then again, if I was in England I would be complaining about having to always wear a coat and the rain ruining my hair.

Why try to be what you are not, I hear you ask? Its only dressing up once in a while, just to be different for a few hours. Nothing wrong with that.


  1. I often wonder why older men feel the need to unbutton their shirts and show off their wrinkly or wrinkly hairy chests and bling. It's like men here who in their 60's buy convertible sports cars and drive around with the top down and they are bald and fat! I guess that's the only time one can afford a Lamborgini, when most of your hair has fallen out working hard to afford one.
    Yesterday I got my nose pierced. I think it's a early 40's thing.
    It's positively ugly here in Toronto today, rain rain go away.

  2. I was disappointed to hear I missed such a nice evening...sometimes I miss things, I don't hear about them.
    Re high heels and dressing up. I hear you LOUD and CLEAR. HARD to keep that shiz up in Positano, but fun nonetheless (see the taxi drivers who suddenly say HELLO!).
    Playboys...often I sit in restaurant and simply amuse myself looking at them...

  3. I hear you. I *love* to dress up, do my hair, put on makeup for hours. I *love* feeling pretty, glamorous, like Cinderella at the ball. I can never seem to make it last all night long though, even on my wedding I ended up dancing barefoot.

  4. I love to dress up, always have! Like Annika, I will spend hours doing my hair & makeup, and finding just the right outfit and accessories.

    I'll even find events for us to go to just so I can wear a certain dress!

    I love the feeling of wearing high heels. Well, not if they are uncomfortable, but good heels make me feel classy.

    And yes, I wear heels in Positano in the evenings. My friend who goes with me each year wears stilettos every night - I'm not that brave yet!

  5. i just wanted to say that i love that picture.

  6. You have to wear entirely unsuitable things sometimes. It keeps us alive.

    (our feet hate us, but it keeps us alive). :)

  7. With that picture as a guide and your storytelling abilities behind it, I felt as though I was there with you...laughing and trying to help you not to fall, pointing out the "interesting" people to each other, and of course...heading home with a little more energy than is natural for such a late in hand, smiling, a great night!

    (P.S. Hi! I am Amy from Texas...faithful reader, first time your blog...check you out almost every day! Thank you for putting yourself out there in this your honesty, and that you write from the heart.)

  8. i decided to put on a nice dress and heels to go to mass last weekend. I nearly twisted my ankle on the cobblestones, and had about 3 hot-spots on each foot when I got home. But I agree...feels good to go to all that trouble, doesn't it? It's like proof that you've still got it. I could still do without the heels...yikes! Glad you enjoyed the evening! I look forward to a night out with the girls one day!


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