“I’ve turned up to costume parties in the wrong costume. I’ve made social faux pas aplenty. I’ve put one foot in front of the other and fallen over.” — Benedict Cumberbatch
I use a different quote every week, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one that so completely captures me. During this holiday season, there were plenty of times I tripped on air and wore the wrong clothes. Because being a freelancer often results in odd work hours, I found myself with no projects due for the entire last two weeks of December. Since it was the holiday season, there were parties, get-togethers with friends, big meals, and events filled with delicious small bites and likely too many glasses of bubbly. It’s a miracle I haven’t puffed up like that girl in the Wonka movie.
With no set work schedule and a social calendar that was busier than usual, my ability to manage it all suffered. I showed up at a neighbor’s house for a party on Thursday. The party was scheduled for the following Sunday, but did I let that stop me? Heck no, over I went, wearing actual dress-up clothes and ready for some cheer. Thankfully, my host understood. After two weeks of late nights, shopping, cooking, eating more cheese than should be allowed, and making the rounds, I was at capacity. When he told me when the party really was, I said, “Oh, Sunday? Awesome… What day is it today?”
We’re all busy and can be forgiven a little mental confusion on what day it is or which event is when, but the clothing? That’s been a lifelong struggle for me. I’m not a fashionista, which is fine, but the time I attended a cocktail party wearing a table runner as a pashmina was a new low. It was on a clearance table at the store; it was hunter green with orange and white embroidery, and I thought it was fabulous. If my hostess had not had the same one on her table, I might have gotten away with it.
While basic manners should always be in vogue, most of the social events I get asked to are pretty casual. No white ties and tails, no dripping jewels around a Downton Abbey dinner table, so even someone as awkward as I am can avoid being a complete disaster, at least most of the time. It helps that the parties and events I go to are given by dear friends, who know what they’re getting when they invite me, but I’ve still had more than my share of mortifying moments.
Showing up on the wrong date? Check. Wearing something not suited to the event? Check. Breaking something in the home of a host? Double-check, since it was a pair of salt and pepper shakers. My parents raised me right; I swear they did. It didn’t stop me, though, from telling everyone at a family BBQ that I had bugs in my hair. I was 4, and it was true; I had these little barrettes with ladybugs on them. The look on my Uncle Bill’s face was priceless. I think he went and put bathing caps on all my cousins after hearing this, and they didn’t even have a pool.
I have two weddings coming up in the fall, and in one of them, I’m a member of the wedding party. So far, I have the dress, and it fits. That may not sound like much to many of you, but for me, it could be a first. It’s an outdoor wedding, at a park with rocky cliffs overlooking the ocean, and I’m wearing heels. What could possibly go wrong? Actually, never mind about that right now; otherwise, I might hide under my bed. I’m focusing on my friends who will make sure I don’t mess up the date or show up in tableware. At the wedding where I’m only a guest, I just have to make sure I don’t fall down in the middle of the electric slide.
I’m used to finding myself in socially embarrassing moments, but I’m lucky that so far, nothing too terrible has happened. It’s a new year, though, so stay tuned for more adventures in awkwardness. There will be stories, I promise.
