If you want to push every button in my body, ask me to a black tie affair, tell me to bring a plus one and wear a mask. Oh, and to add insult to injury, make it an affair to which you're ordered. Thought not mandatory, it's been made clear that you're to at least show your face at this shindig, in a matter of speaking. How are you supposed to show your face when you're wearing a mask?
It is a masquerade party after all. My consultancy's annual black tie affair. These are the people who pay me. It's been made clear that you're expected to turn up.
Well, I've had every button pushed well and truly - but instead of putting in my excuses, crying off with the ebola virus or telling all and sundry I'm on a six p.m. flight to Adelaide, I put in an acceptance to the RSVP and with bated breath, I'm turning up to this affair tomorrow night, alone, but I'm going.
Jonella had a bit to do with my accepting the invitation. Jonella's been with the consultancy for a few years. She's been telling me of how good these events are. I'm not so sure. It's a corporate do. It's a corporate do in a swanky hotel. It's a corporate event in a swanky hotel to which I have to drive to and at which I cannot drink alcohol. Phah! Adding to my discomfort, then only person I know on more than a hello in the lift basis is Jonella.
Oh well, I get to have a look around the ballroom at the Windsor Hotel, one of the loveliest old style hotel's in Melbourne - it's something I've wanted to do for a long time.
In the past, getting an invite to an affair with a "and partner" attached has left me in a flurry of tears and in a quandry. I've never had a plus one and these invites have made me feel "defective" in the past. The only event I can remember taking a plus one to was Lachlan's wedding many years ago - and I took this mate who I'm sure is now living in Barcelona under the name of Narelle. Hmmm. Thank goodness I've got over this one well and truly. I'm fine going alone.
Saying this, I was telling Pinochet about this event tonight as he held me captive on the leg press machine with 100 kgs bearing down on my glutes. I told him that I wasn't overly wrapped about going to this shindig - to which he said "Pick me! Pick me!" Hmm. I told him that it was a black tie. "I have a black tie! It goes well with my yellow suit." Hmm. Maybe next time, sweetie. And though I must admit to adoring my personal trainer, I'm not sure I want to take him to my consultancy's black tie affair. A friend's barbeque maybe, but not to this excuse for a drunken networking night with people I don't know.
I have the dress. I'll wear the black one that I wore to the 12 wbt party a few months ago. That's elegant enough without being too over the top. I have the shoes. I have the make up. All I needed to go to this was the mask.
And this too caused a bit of a dilemma. Masking up. Eww. The first instinct for me was to go to the Spellbox, my witch shit shop, where I get all of my tarot cards and other assorted "witchy" stuff that I use in my healing work. They have these fabulous leather masks that have always taken a fancy to. Leather ritual masks, not gimp masks, half-faced, slighty sprightly, slightly demonic, delicately detailed - used for working some rather interesting rituals. I spotted a really fetching blue one - but at $150 - there is no way I could afford it - my dress cost that ten years ago! Jonella also mentioned that such a mask would probably make a few waves. Probably a good thing it was out of my price range.
So I found one one on ebay - a fairly simple black one with a few sequins for good measure - elegant, simple and most importantly, cheap. Even with postage, it was the right price at less than ten percent of the Spellbox one. I bought this online a week ago. It was still to turn up at my post office box this afternoon.
So it was a quick trip to Bernard's Joke Shop at lunchtime for a contingency plan mask. Something to cover my face while I stand there wishing I could be downing champagne by the bucket load whilst trying to be pleasant and interesting to people I don't know. Saturday morning's boxing class will be enough of a deterent for the drinking - you can't box with a hangover. Besides, I'm seeing the naturopath at 2 pm the next day - she'll have my guts for garters if she hears I've been drinking. There were a few options but I settled on the one that was the most comfortable, with a comfortable material backing and a nose pad. It shouldn't make any waves.
What do you reckon?
I just like pusscats....