Later this month, my mother in law is celebrating her 70th birthday. And we can't get away with simply going out for a nice meal or taking the old dear on a day trip. Oh no, because she has gone to enormous trouble and spent an absolute fortune on organising what we have dubbed the Three Day Event. Now I have absolutely no problem with a solid weekend of partying (although my liver would probably disagree these days) but it's all the other poncing about that she seems to expect that is causing me grief.
Friday night, the dressage phase, will be fairly simple, a meal at the village restaurant, catching up with the huge entourage of friends and relatives who are jetting in from the UK for the weekend. Should be fun actually, might have to put on a clean, horse-hair free t shirt, maybe even one with out a rock band or sci-fi show logo on the front, but we should be able to manage.
The final day of the event should be fine too, as it's a hog roast in the garden. So maybe a second tshirt will be required. And there really will be showjumping as we are hoping to slope off to a comp in the morning up at the club before the do starts at lunchtime......
No, it's the Saturday that, in true cross country style, will be the real test of endurance and ability to overcome large obstacles. Due to the words "formal dress" on the invitation, two words guaranteed to strike fear into my heart. Not just for myself, as being fat and over forty means I never look good in anything, whatever I wear. Which means I might as well be comfortable, which is why I usually slob around in jodhpurs and the aforementioned t shirts. Why go to the trouble of getting some posh clothes on? Because posh just really means uncomfortable. Skirts and dresses are not comfortable, I don't care what anyone says. Shoes that aren't joddy boots or trainers are not comfortable. And also not suitable for wearing near horses so why would I bother? But OK, I can probably scare up something I wore to a wedding a few years ago that has been gathering dust in the back of the wardrobe ever since so job done.
No, the real problem is Aliénor. She is a true chip off the old block and likes to wear jodhs and tshirts. She never wears dresses or skirts either. In fact, she'd probably be happier in a tux. As would I, frankly. And anyway, what exactly does "formal" mean? Black tie? White tie? Tails? No idea. Friend of ours has an amazing Tuareg outfit he got in Niger, he was wondering if this would be formal enough...?
But I digress. It was with a feeling of dread that I took Ali shopping the other day to find some "formal wear". I rarely ever enter a French clothing shop, and here's why:
And these are just a small sample. There is some serious crap out there at the moment. Florescent orange looks good on my hi viz "don't run me
over" gilet but on a dress? And why would anyone make a dress
out of loud floral fabric then decide it isn't busy enough so add random
buttons/embroidery/ribbons/sequins til it looks like a Christmas tree? I mean, I thought the French were supposed to be fashion icons, so why are they wearing this stuff?
Anyway, after a couple of hours wandering around in a daze and totally failing to find anything Ali would be prepared to wear out in public, we happened on a boutique (that's just a posh word for dress shop) selling some vaguely decent stuff and she tried this one on, which met with approval. Because it's black and has studs! And were it floor length probably wouldn't look out of place in Servalan's wardrobe.......
So flushed with success, we returned home, feeling relieved. Until someone said "you'll have a job getting shoes to match". We have to get shoes as well? Aaaaarrrrgh.........
