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.
at 9:21 AM