On the way to the supermarket to buy stockings and wine, I had an idea that to create an appropriate outfit for my neighbour’s ‘Fiesta!’ themed 40th birthday, I could match my black (flamenco) dress and sparkly red shoes with a feather boa, thereby appearing utterly Spanish and not the awful truth of having forgot completely about the party until two hours ago. Where to get such a thing at 6.30 on a Saturday evening?
I drove back up Willis Street to dvice. No boas. They suggested the $2 shop in Cuba Street. Closed. In a last ditch attempt I took a deep breath and walked confidently into Peaches & Cream (a sex shop). I attempted to ignore what appeared to be a wall display of plastic vagina’s (vaginae?) and asked the friendly bloke behind the counter if he per chance, had a red feather boa? He checked the computer and asked me to wait while he checked the stock room, returning momentarily with a large oblong box. ‘The Boa’ was written on it. Turns out it wasn’t quite the type of boa I was after, nor would it be appropriate to sling it nonchalantly around ones neck at a neighbourhood party…
Science Guy made a very passable Picasso to my (let’s face it, I wore a black dress) flamenco dancer. Highlights: the sangria and tapas and the live Cuban band. Oh, and realising I had been talking to my date all night, to almost the exclusion of everyone else, and I’d had a fun, giggly, tipsy kind of evening.
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