Hippo
The Pussycat and I came to the sad realisation on Saturday that we have no lives at the moment. Over the long weekend I returned to our nation’s capital (and my family), and my sister and I decided that we really should make an effort and go out on the town together. Whilst our parents took themselves off to the movies, my sibling and I changed into more presentable clothes and drove into the city. Those were really the first clues that we were a bit half-arsed about the whole thing – the fact that actually getting ready took mere minutes and that one of us drove and would be obliged to remain sober – but nonetheless we headed off. Our first port of call was a cocktail bar in the city.
One of the many bars in town that has changed name and ownership over the years, this place was just full enough to be busy but not to the extent that you could never get a seat. It was the kind of place that could so easily have been pretentious, filled with trendy guys sporting blond tips and white shoes or with moulded hair and the shirt so casually unbuttoned to mid chest. Or where 95% of the women preen with a religious fanaticism and come off as more artificial than their nails. (A snob…what? Who, me?) The place was relaxed however with a funky lounge atmosphere and served real cocktails. You know, the drinks that don’t include creamy concoctions of chocolate or sugar that would make any diabetic turn tail and run. It was also a place that provided my greatest source of amusement for the night.
I swore years ago that I would stop wearing clothes that necessitated constant adjustment whilst out in public. I have since had years to enjoy that wisdom but apparently others don’t feel the same way. This one particular girl I noticed was wearing a strapless grey dress, fitted over the bodice and fanning slightly out at the waist before it came back in just above the knees in an upside down tulip type shape. She looked attractive enough when she was standing up straight and she had just enough give in the skirt to walk normally. What she didn’t have however was the capability of standing with her feet slightly apart and grooving down to the beat. As soon as she bent both her knees, the material would pull taught over her admittedly tiny backside, tugging the bodice of the outfit down. Which is rather inconvenient in a strapless dress. The solution therefore was to make a fist inside her side pocket and lift it outwards thus raising the hemline of the dress (and causing a rather odd ballooning effect in the process) which allowed her to move more freely.
Awkward fashion moments aside however. My sister and I also moved on to another venue not at all renowned for its cocktail list and where I could get some tart fuel* to which I am also partial. It was somewhat refreshing to notice that the place no longer smelled of smoke now that the new laws have taken effect but at the same time the atmosphere, such as it was, seemed to have disappeared as well. We pondered this loss while I had a drink then we did the lap around civic, cause that’s generally what you do at some point. After we’d completed the circuit we decided to call it a night. And we beat our parents home. See, I told you, no life. The Pussycat and I both lament the fact that we don’t actually do more but creatures who regularly come out at night we are not. Of course it would help if we were little less lazy. Oh well.
*perhaps the most apt name for mixed drinks that I have heard
One of the many bars in town that has changed name and ownership over the years, this place was just full enough to be busy but not to the extent that you could never get a seat. It was the kind of place that could so easily have been pretentious, filled with trendy guys sporting blond tips and white shoes or with moulded hair and the shirt so casually unbuttoned to mid chest. Or where 95% of the women preen with a religious fanaticism and come off as more artificial than their nails. (A snob…what? Who, me?) The place was relaxed however with a funky lounge atmosphere and served real cocktails. You know, the drinks that don’t include creamy concoctions of chocolate or sugar that would make any diabetic turn tail and run. It was also a place that provided my greatest source of amusement for the night.
I swore years ago that I would stop wearing clothes that necessitated constant adjustment whilst out in public. I have since had years to enjoy that wisdom but apparently others don’t feel the same way. This one particular girl I noticed was wearing a strapless grey dress, fitted over the bodice and fanning slightly out at the waist before it came back in just above the knees in an upside down tulip type shape. She looked attractive enough when she was standing up straight and she had just enough give in the skirt to walk normally. What she didn’t have however was the capability of standing with her feet slightly apart and grooving down to the beat. As soon as she bent both her knees, the material would pull taught over her admittedly tiny backside, tugging the bodice of the outfit down. Which is rather inconvenient in a strapless dress. The solution therefore was to make a fist inside her side pocket and lift it outwards thus raising the hemline of the dress (and causing a rather odd ballooning effect in the process) which allowed her to move more freely.
Awkward fashion moments aside however. My sister and I also moved on to another venue not at all renowned for its cocktail list and where I could get some tart fuel* to which I am also partial. It was somewhat refreshing to notice that the place no longer smelled of smoke now that the new laws have taken effect but at the same time the atmosphere, such as it was, seemed to have disappeared as well. We pondered this loss while I had a drink then we did the lap around civic, cause that’s generally what you do at some point. After we’d completed the circuit we decided to call it a night. And we beat our parents home. See, I told you, no life. The Pussycat and I both lament the fact that we don’t actually do more but creatures who regularly come out at night we are not. Of course it would help if we were little less lazy. Oh well.
*perhaps the most apt name for mixed drinks that I have heard
posted by Gauchegirl @ 1:37 PM
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