Day 75 – Lost in Lycra
My mood has been all over the place today. The first part of the day I was feeling as high as a kite, after having a luxurious lie in and bubble bath I started snooping around the house for dresses to wear which were conservative enough for my visit to my new place of work to sign the contracts. After having a bit of a snoop in my mothers wardrobe I came across a combination of flowery shirts, one old dress which I know is her favourite and a kaftan top which is quite long. Though the shirt was too short and the dress was just to desirable to steal without first asking the long kaftan dress fitted just right and I added it to my pile of packing along with my dinner dance dress, a silk 1920s Vintage ball gown or bridesmaid dress and a jumper dress which may well be a tad too transparent. Having had such a productive start to the day I set about the task of finding an outfit for the day again. 
I tried on countless nighties with fancy belts and slimming slips, attempted to turn a skirt into a dress and even raided the giants wardrobe for shirts with “shirt dress” potential. Whatever I tried though just wasn’t right, although I was rather keen on one nightie when combined with a silk cotton 1970s French Connection sleeveless top, there was no way of getting around the behind issue; whichever way you looked at it the nightie was see through and as the contract I was signing was not an agreement to enter rear of the year I started to despair.
Having just about resigned myself to a “shirt dress” with a long coat which would never come off I traipsed downstairs for some tea. Imagine then my delight then when I stumbled across this dress which I had only received yesterday from my lovely London based friend. I had somehow completely forgotten about it and although it is a teeny-weeny bit tight and shows off every hump lump and bump it is a dress and it is black. To ensure the look was completely conservative I classed it up with some blue Marks & Spencer tights which I bought in one of their outlet stores for £1.50. I had to pour myself into the dress so I quickly did some evil squats and sit ups to prevent the seams from splitting once I felt confident enough to breathe in it. Once I got the hang of sucking in my stomach and throwing my shoulders back I loved wearing this dress and by the time I was ready to head down town I was feeling like a slinky with a hill to master rather than a set of stairs.
Unfortunately a slight damper was put on my day by the usual troubles with getting a prescription and having a uncomftarble conversation with a doctor I had never met before about why exactly I was on weekly prescriptions. ”I think it might be because they were worried I would take an overdose.” Que awkward silence followed by me grinning in a misguided attempt to lighten the mood which probably left me looking a little loopy. Couldn’t be helped but not the easiest start to an acquaintance by any measure. In spite of this little awkward moment I had a really rather lovely bubbly day. As well as signing my contract without bursting into tears of joy, I also found a bar in Market Harborough which has WiFi. It is called The Square Bar should anyone ever be around the area and is as pleasant a place to work as any. Delicious coffee, plenty of natural light and unlike Cafe Nero two doors down does not charge for internet access and gives you a warm glow for doing the right thing by local business.
I do not know when the anxiety started to kick in. It might have been after I got home and realised just how much I had to do. I have been putting off a couple of reviews and doing the women’s week proved more difficult than I thought. I am trying to find decent quotations and if possible direct quotes from the women in question particularly in letter form to give the postings more warmth and authenticity but all of this takes time and as we all know so well time has a habit of hurrying on regardless. To be fair the anxiety may have well been much to do with being alone in the house for a couple of days and having little contact with anyone other than shopkeepers and cyberspace. Usually there is at least one person in the house or even the dog to keep one company and I find it difficult being by myself for too long. I love the idea of getting my own place once I start work but perhaps I am more suited to the social aspects of sharing a flat.
Though I managed to get quite a bit done with a little help from the Glee massive, by the time I went to bed my head was ticking with all the things I wanted to do the next day and it was impossible to switch off. By all rights the dose of the dreaded nauseating Quetiapine should really be all that is required to send me into a near comatose state for eight hours but for some reason tonight it just never kicked in. Perhaps it was the eight cups of tea I drank whilst trying to stave off hunger pangs; the tablets stimulate ones appetite but I am desperate not to gain any more weight even though I know its shallow I just don’t feel I look like me and it makes me feel fed up. Whatever it was I ended up lying here till three am, trying to get to sleep and desperately trying to ignore all the unanswered questions in my head. I think it was about three that I gave up on getting any shut-eye and just decided to do the work I wanted to.
For months now I have been considering getting business cards but have not yet found a suitable site. Last night however whilst tweeting through the witching hour about my desire for prettily designed cards of my own with lostinnotation as my home I was sent a tweet from a stationary angel from across the pond. She writes a wonderful fashion blog called Prim Knickers and recommended me a decent site. I do not actually remember ordering them as I was so tired but here within my email is a confirmation of the 500 business cards I ordered. The difficulty of the internet for occasional insomniacs like myself is it allows you to do pretty much everything 24 hours a day. Decisions which would previously be denied to the sleep deprived are now available and openly promoted. Once after not having slept for five days I booked my boyfriend at the time a trip to Amsterdam for his 21st birthday, it cost me around £800, nearly all of my savings and for some unholy reason I had booked us in to The Botel, a boat which is also a hotel because I thought it sounded romantic. 
It was not, but there was no getting out of it because they had my card details and I had confirmed it. I sometimes think there should be a universal law for those who suffer from instances of mania no matter how brief that once they have emerged from their spell they should be allowed to take back all their ridiculous purchases and get a free refund. Alas they do not and so soon I will have 500 business cards, at least they look pretty.
- Dress today is on loan from Clara De Los Acres Diez. She is an utter legend and the dress is a great shape from Zara and with blue tights and Kurt Geiger boots it looks extra special. I wore my hair up today as I think it makes me look more serious plus it has started to get on my nerves and if it continues to fall into my face I will be getting a bob before you can say limp lank and lifeless.
Day eight – outlet shopping, blue skin and the buzz of a bargain
Today I am feeling a little blue. I do not know if this is the result of the plummeting temperature, the bruises forming on my hands and back or the blue tint on my cleavage which is proving possible to remove. The tint is the result of trying to ease my aching body in a luke warm bath which I attempted to improve by adding warming rosemary scented blue sea salts. Though it said a handful I applied my usual logic to bathing products of the more the merrier and emerged from the bath feeling refreshed only to be greeted by the boy bent double for an hour in gut ticking mirth.
Needless to say when my brand new Christmas present, (which was available in every colour, including black) presented the blue screen of death, my mood turned as black and blue as the infuriating Dell netbook had turned itself . Usually in this situation I would turn to retail therapy, as it is however, with only the option of the purchase of shoes or scarves available to me, I feel my usual therapy will not give me the lift I crave.
The dress I am wearing today is a Christmas present from my auntie in Moville. She has as good an eye for a bargain as myself and delights in tracking down new finds. With an eye on fashion and an ability to wear a bin bag in the most flattering way, I know that any gift from her will be high fashion in every sense.
The dress did not disappoint; according to my mother it is the work of some brilliant Irish designer, but unfortunately in my excitement to get it on i tore off the label. I do know however that it should have been about £70. Thankfully, knowing my Aunts view to a bargain, I am sure it would have been purchased for a fraction of this price.
It was she, who first introduced my mother to Borderland, the holy grail of fashion to all women and girls a far throw from the city of Derry. Borderland lies on the border of the North and the Republic of Ireland and I like to think this holy grail of fashion has done much to improve relations between those from both sides of the border.
When we first went there, as young tots we paraded about the place playing tig. In our ignorance and by combining all of our wit, we nicknamed it boringland. It was not until we had grown a little that we came to see the bargains to be found at such a place; North Face skiing jackets, Gap jeans in every style and a treasure trove of unusual tops, dresses and the all important staples of outlet stores, smalls from Calvin Klein.
For some time, outlet stores have been the retreat of only those on a budget or women and men with a sensible approach to fashion, wishing to look styled and overpriced without being willing to spend their fortunes on fast fashion. Today however, with budget being the new fashion buzz word, hoards are now flocking to these outlets for a quick fashion fix; fashionatas who would never admit to darkening the door of such places now keep the secret of the latest outlet store close to their chests, carefully uttering words like Bistavillage in a false French accent so as to keep the masses at bay.
The trouble with these outlets however is their inconsistency, from season to season, store to store. The only way to make sure you have a good experience is to be willing to dedicate half a day at least to rummaging through the jumble jungle and being ready to visit your chosen outlet at least once a month. The stores have a quick turnaround on their stock, and though Bistavillage to name but one is constantly raved about, I know many women who have been left disappointed by taking the trip there. Equally at a Marks and Spencer outlet near to Peterborough where the boy had only a month before found a rather hunky suit, I came away with nothing but a pair of elbow length leather gloves which were later stolen by some hussy at the Oat Hill one night; a very nice bar and food place in market Harborough http://www.theoathill.co.uk/. The experience would not have been so devastating had I not been made redundant just two days later.
I do hope you have pleasing experiences when you seek out the outlet stores in your area and the bargains to be found within. Providing you go armed with a keen eye, an ever flowing thermos of hot sweet coffee and an umbrella to fend away ladies who forget it is polite not to grab, (I find a quick sharp rap to the knuckles soon reminds them of the necessity of manners and solidarity between women) I am sure you will be successful.
