Saturday evening, a friend of mine was having a birthday party. Right on her actual birth day, too, because she got lucky (this year). If you consider ‘lucky’ spending an evening with the likes of me, that is. Then again, I didn’t come alone, my fiancée was there too, which always makes for a more enjoyable evening. As the saying goes, everyone agrees she’s my better half…
This particular friend loves one particular thing whenever she organizes a party (and that’s fairly often, although she had a couple of years off, or didn’t invite me, either/or): a serious dress code. The first year I came, a while back, the theme was Asian/Oriental. Friends of mine came dressed in geishas, martial artists or Bollywood stars for the more creative ones of the lot. I came with a blue sweater, rightfully arguing that it was the most colorful piece of clothing I happened to own at the time.
A couple of things have changed since then:
1. I have way less issues with dressing up, because I’ve made peace with the fact that I look funny anyway. I even dance at parties sometimes — sober too! Although I’m still not ready to dress up and dance on the same night. There are limits.
2. I own a bunch of colorful T-shirts, now that I told everyone that’s the only kind of gift I will accept for any kind of occasion. Actually, I had to tell people to stop last year, because 50+ T-shirts is a lot to stockpile in a cupboard, regardless their color.
And so, Saturday, I agreed to (sort of) follow the dress code: dress to kill. I say ‘sort of’: my fiancée came in her roller derby outfit (which I personally saw trigger more than one injury) while friends came in samurai, soldier and various cop outfits… I came dressed in a suit.
Birthday girl: Hey GH! What’s that outfit you’re wearing?
Me: It’s a suit!
Birthday girl: I can see that, but how exactly does that fit in with the dress code?
(My ever supportive) fiancée: I asked the same question…
Me: Well, you suit up to get a business deal…
Birthday girl: That’s your idea of “killing”?
Me: Well… OK… Let’s say I’m a spy. Like James Bond, only better looking.
Fiancée: since when are James Bond girls playing roller derby?
Me: Since now.
Birthday girl: And where is the gun?
Me: OK… OK… I’ll come clean: this is literally the best I could do. Wearing a suit is the epitomy of dressing up as far as I am concerned [My usual attire is jeans and a T-shirt, colorful or not]. So this is kind of a statement about me not being willing to dress up with a costume, but wearing a suit… Get it?
Birthday girl: Oh I get it. You didn’t wanna bother.
Fiancée: Sounds about right.