A day off. Everyone but everyone needs a day off. At least once a week, ideally. But – at least once EVER, for certain.
Today was my day off. I tend to have one every Saturday. Clare looks after The Maisonette and I officially get to step away from the computer. I say I officially get to step away from the computer. Sometimes, day off or not, I end up pottering away on some piece of Made in the Shade work that niggles at my brain. In this bid to be kinder to myself and my family this year, I’m desperately trying to enjoy days off. Thing is – every time Saturday comes around, I face the same dilema. What to do? If I spend the day being domestic – filling the dishwasher, doing laundry, tidying up and doing a bit of nesting, is that a well spent day? Or – if I decide to leave the mess that’s accumulated during the previous 6 days to fester for the next 6 and devote my day to some quality couch time eating violet cremes and watching The Jolson Story – have I wasted my time? If I decide to get out and about – go outside, meet someone for a cup of tea and a chatter and maybe do some window shopping on the local charity shop trail, when do I get to sit on my ass and relax? I need three days off. One to be domestic, one for lounging and one for being a normal person who engages in conversation and fun times with friends and loved ones. Can we arrange that please? No?
Today, still riding the wave of sociable-ness I grabbed on Thursday, Beardy and I decided to ditch the chores and head down town like normal people.
With our tummies a-rumblin’, our first stop – Chopstix. Chopstix is a funny Chinese canteen in a fairly ugly part of town near the train station. Vaguely reminiscent of a dinner school (where all the dinner ladies are Chinese men), Chopstix offers up wonderfully massive boxes of delicious, freshly cooked rice and noodle dishes on plastic trays. The metal chair legs make a horrible scraping noise on the tiled floor. It’s not really a place to hang out – more of a quick stop fill up station. Beardy scoffed some salt & pepper chicken and I munched through every last nugget of sweet and sour yummness before we headed next door to the music store to spend some gift vouchers we got for Christmas but hadn’t had a chance to cash-in until now.
The Fopp trip (Fopp’s the music shop), took up more time that we expected. I was my usual indecisive self. With an armful of books, cds and movies, the sifting process was a sore one as I plumped to leave behind the Jesus & Mary Chain boxset, zine compendium and Single Man dvd. However, I did eventually purchase these…
Next up, we trotted round the corner to the Sub Club. A veritable den of iniquity and dirty techno most weekends, this afternoon the club was playing host to Glasgow’s newest fashion event, pop-up styling shindig, Bold Souls. Not sure what to expect exactly, I realised pretty quickly that I wasn’t nearly cool cat enough not to stick out like a sore, poorly dressed thumb as I wandered round the makeshift fashion booths and make-over pods. However, I did enjoy ooh-ing and aah-ing at beautiful handmade collections by Jennie Loof, Sew Vintage and Margolily. Oh – and a fella from fancy style blog, Les Garcons de Glasgow took my picture – but I’m guessing more as a ‘what not to do’ example than anything else. Wearing my hat backwards and with a button missing from my coat, I was hardly rockin’ the street style vibo!
Inspired/shamed by my lack of catwalk cool at Bold Souls, I hit the shops in search of something new, something different, something a little bit out of character. For years now I’ve been mocking up my own 40s/50s esque, part Pink Lady, part granny chic look. These days? I’m hankering for change. Just as I’ve become a bit bored with Glasgow, with the colour of the walls in my hallway and the tv schedule, I’ve become a bit bored with myself. I dragged poor Beardy round every clothing fixture in H&M for at least an hour, as I picked up items I’d usually walk straight past. I pondered whether I ought to try squishing my ass into a peg leg troo. Then thought I might be better off hiding it with a harem pant. I wondered if I might be able to ‘work’ a floor length knitted dress? A deep v-neck jumbo knit jumper? Leggings? Smock tops? Riding jackets? I took a little selection of bits to try on and emerged rather smug that the peg-leg troo plan worked out for the best. Sold. Oh – and I went a little bit wild in the hoisery section, but then, I did have to splurge on some new footsie wear to compliment my oh-so-special clogs!
And now I’m at home. I’m watching a movie as I type and thinking in the back of my mind that maybe if I hadn’t spent yet more cashola I don’t have on bobby socks, I just might be able to order myself a pizza.