I went to my first work Christmas party for about three years last week. I work short contracts and I’m usually between jobs around Christmas but not this year. I was all geared up to wear a nice frock and heels but after checking with a colleague (thanks Laura x), I opted for “slightly better than average hair”, jeans and this top I made a few years ago.
Upcycling. And posing awkwardly on the sofa in the only decent light in this flat.
Given my fondness for cats, I guess it might seem odd that I don’t own more cat-themed clothing. But you gotta draw the line somewhere on the cat thing. Somehow, I ended up with a cat-print dress, more than likely purchased from one of those highly-flammable shops on Oxford Street. Originally, it was a pretty simple design with an elasticated waist. It got worn a few times, it got washed a few times, it shrunk to a fairly obscene length. Not that I mind short skirts/dresses but I wanted something a bit more work-friendly.
Buttons down the front? Too much hard work.
I took the elastic off the waist, chopped off the length, put a couple of darts in the back (I always have to do this with everything) and cut it straight down the middle. I had intended to make it into a shirt with buttons down the front but I realised that was too much work for not enough gain so I put the black lace detail down the front.
Cracking jokes.
The staff party was a great night, the food was alright, the people were friendly, the wine was free-flowing and the jokes in the crackers were suitably crap. I was home on the last tube, without any great sense of regret and seemed to be missing the obligatory hangover the next day. Christmas parties ain’t the way I don’t remember them.
All in all a lovely evening and no ‘arm done. Yeah, sorry. I’ll get my coat.
Here’s to a restive festive Christmas.
Merry Christmas x
