Sunday, 4 October 2015

What to wear to the RWC at Twickenham

Ok, I admit it, I would be the very last person to listen to about 'What to wear'. I am not a style guru, or a fashion diva, I am just a fat old woman who last night was lucky enough to have a ticket to the Rugby World Cup, England Vs Australia, so I figured I might have had a little look see if someone was offering advice, and because I hadn't seen any such I advice, I thought I'd just tell ya what I wore.

We are staying a few kilometres from the ground, and feet are the only transport possible, although I dare say if we wanted to splash some cash we could have found a helicopter to take us there, but that would have required a whole other outfit.

It is still THONG weather here - no not little whispers of bum irritation, good old Aussie footwear, and as I have trouble with my feet, I started at the ground - up, for my attire selection. I choose the red birks cos they are well worn in and I know that I can go yomping in them for miles. I did wonder about some big fat popo type smashing his size 16s onto my toes, but as I was walking and as I have no other shoes suitable for distance, there was really no choice, but caution is advised.

I tossed up for a while about what would be good to cover the arse end. A dress could get stuck between the fold down chairs and a skirt would probably drag in the spilt beer, so pants it is, but did I want to wear jeans, linen or leopard print jobbies? I am not much fond of jeans, even though I know they are a necessary evil in everyone's wardrobe, I just find 'em tight and restrictive - yeh perhaps I should buy a bigger pair, ho fucking hum. So the Leopard print it was!

Black tops go with everything so black it was. I had a black T shirt, under a silly black top and a black jumper and for good measure a black faux leather coat I bought last week from the charity shop for 7 pounds. I agree that all that seemed excessive, especially when the thongs are considered, but I have been to stadiums before and know that sometimes a breeze blows in that can freeze your tits off, and that's a lot of breeze, so better to be safe than titless.

The hair doesn't really matter, unless you plan to push your way onto the tellie by doing something quite mad like sticking your painted tongue in some B grade TV personality's ear, and makeup is not essential, but do pop a lib balm stick into your smaller, over the chest handie.

But the piece de resistance is the scarf, for warmth and waving and identification. This has nothing to do with style or colour co-ordination cos god knows really no-one looks good in that gaudy yellow gold, and that much acrylic is likely to spontaneously combust with the addition of the slightest bit of friction. No the scarf is just cos.

So here's the whole ensemble laid out - what? you didn't really expect that I was gonna include a self wearing it all did you? How long do you think my arms are? No self sticks allowed in the grounds and I don't have one anyway. This is as good as it gets.

Except to say Aussie Aussie Aussie Oi Oi Oi, What a win!

No comments:

Post a Comment