This fashion hangover wasn’t a headache and lack of oomph brought on by an excess of fashion.
Although there was a lot of it going around. There always is during GFW. A mix of stylish, fabulous, try hard and those of us who opt for low vis in such a way as to fit the fashion bill anyway, wether we like it or not.
This hangover was brought on by day time drinking after a fashion show. A fashion show in a big white plastic tent on a very hot day. It was meant to start at 11am but was running very behind time.
It was fashionably late, unfashionably sweaty.
There was an element of relief afterwards. Relief that even after a weird covid study experience, the students didn’t let themselves down on a very public stage. They were great, the clothes too. The combination of excitement, relief and overheatedness sent me running with colleagues to a canal side bar. This was a novelty as usually I do my sweating back stage and continue to do so during the packing up process. Not anymore.
At the bar my request for an aperol spritz, was met with the shock response that they weren’t serving them….they had no ice.
Wtf?
I showed my true character by saying that I didn’t mind having no ice.
Perhaps because I’m heading for regular status there, they obliged. The lack of ice didn’t impact on it’s chill, all ingredients were refrigerated. The server filled the glass completely, even where the ice should have been. She put a finger to her lips in a hush sign. Naughty.
This more alcoholic than usual snifter lead to a state of mind where moving to another bar to join other colleagues to drink more seemed like a great idea.
Which it was, fun wise. I eventually arrived at my studio around 4pm. I pretended to work for a bit.
The next day I couldn’t concentrate, I was irrationally irritated and my head hurt, I must have been coming down with something.
A 24hr plague perhaps.
It took a while for me to put 2 and 2 together.
Ladidah
Cheers
fat tart 