Red carpet treatment

Last night KM’s boyfriend HM organised for some of us to got to the film premiere of Tamara Drewe in Leicester Square. Very very exciting.

But what to wear? I was going straight from work, but I don’t have a corporate style job. Dress code in my office is jeans, t-shirt and converse pumps. Not quite red carpet wear… So I found a smart skirt, dressed it down with a vest and flats at work, and then put on a frilly top and heels to meet CC and head down to the screen.

How nice it would be, to walk into a place, and to be adored instantly. To have your clothes admired, your hair complimented, your talent praised – to get the red carpet treatment. How reassuring.

My hair was a bit flat, and I wasn’t feeling totally fabulous as I wandered down to Leicester Square, but I reckoned that since we’d be in the dark for the most part, eating free chocolate, it didn’t really matter too much. That is, until a guy I dated for a while tried to walk past without saying hi. So I said hi, and we passed the time of day, semi-awkwardly.

All of a sudden, I wasn’t completely sure if I was fit to be seen in public. Funny how boys can make you paranoid like that, when they probably don’t even notice what you look like. I got over it when we got to the Odeon in Leicester Square.

I could have worn a bin bag – we were on the right side of the temporary barrier, on the side where the famous, talented, rich and beautiful arrive, schmooze the press, get photographed and look fabulous. By association we were as glorious as them, whatever we were wearing, however frizzy our hair was. Amazing what standing on a red carpet can do for one’s self-esteem.

The film was brilliantly funny, darkly witty and highly recommended by me. And the free chocolate on our seats made the experience all the sweeter.

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