Usually, I qualify my opinion of something with an opening gambit along the lines of "it must be me who doesn't get it" but for once I can be completely confident that it is me who's right, and I like it.
I'm talking of course about fancy dress.
I'm 30, and therefore deem such pursuits as childish, pointless piffle. We had the occasional FD party within my circle of friends when we were growing up, and it was usually a clever way of avoiding forking out for party bags, by placing the entertainment onus on the attendees rather than on the party thrower. Even with that thrifty advantage it still doesn't appeal to me.
In the next few weeks I'm to expect an invitation to a friend's 30th, and she's decided fancy dress is the way to go. Apparently, acting like an infant isn't enough, so she's opted for the theme 'P'. I'm led to believe that means dressing up as something beginning with the letter P. If that's the case, I'm going to go in my normal garb, and if anybody asks me what I've come as, I'll declare "Piss off, I'm an adult". That starts with P.
What is the attraction for supposed grown adults to dress like aubergines and regional KKK operatives in the name of entertainment? I really can't see it, and am proud to admit that since the age of about 10 I've rejected every call to dress up at a shindig apart from one (a family do where I would have been slaughtered for not 'joining in', so I just put some of my old clothes on and went as myself from 1997). I still attended the other parties, but was resolute in my actions; "I ain't dressing up for nobody pal, I don't care how much I stand out. It's a childish pursuit and I won't be any part of your pathetic excuse for a party. Happy birthday, by the way".
Don't get me wrong; I've got nothing specifically against people who want to do this, regardless of their age (I do think however that there is an age range where it's not acceptable; 14 to 40 just about covers it. After than you look like a twat no matter how you dress so it doesn't matter). What does piss me off however is when people label me as 'miserable' for not donning a carrot outfit to a drinks occasion. Sorry? How does that work? As far as I can see I didn't waste any time and certainly no money agonising over what I should dress as to a party containing a high percentage of adults I've never met before, but I'm still smiling and enjoying myself. How exactly does that make me miserable?
I think what I'm saying is live and let live. If you want to dress as a pervy doctor, complete with 'boob inspector' hat, be my guest. If you want to wrap yourself in a piss-stained undersheet from your grotty little bedsit and pretend to be Julius Caesar, help yourself. Don't, however, expect me to participate. If that means not inviting me to avoid damaging the ambiance of your party then so be it; I won't be offended. If you lose your magic wand or one of your cowboy pistols, though, don't come running to me. Tossers.
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