Impossible decisions

It's an interesting week in Contrary Towers... We are going to a ball! Specifically we're going to The Goblin King's Masquerade Ball which looks and sounds an absolute hoot. The only trouble is what to go as... Or first thoughts were as fallen angels, or naughty fairies, both of which are beyond the village of apt and into the wide open fields of that's so us.

Which will be why there are wings of various types laying around our sanctum.

Oh and a ball gown I'd had made for me when I was in my early twenties. And size 12. That's not going to work then. I'd actually brought it back to Contrary Towers with the idea of pulling it apart and using the fabric as a base for something else. The trouble is I'm suffering a bit with tiredness and lack of energy, so it wasn't going to happen either. Pfft.

Okay plan C(minor), using something else as a base and then dressing it up and adding the wings. That could work. Cue yet more things hanging around, at least in my boudoir to see what works (too sparkly, too slutty, too dull etc., etc.). I had at least come to some sort of a plan that didn't involve my shelling out a small fortune on a new corset (too fat, pfft), besides I had run out of time to have one made.

Meanwhile my flatmate is having a similar problem. She does at least have a corset that fits and, after much running and generally getting fit, a shape to die for and probably cause a multitude of accidents if seen out. But there the problem was still what else to wear that would be slightly mischievous but without attracting the srong sort of attention.

It was getting tricky. And time is running out.

Which is why yesterday lunchtime we marched out in to our respective areas and sought inspiration! First stop for me was One of a Kind on Portobello Road, which is, frankly, brilliant. I did get lots of ideas, but with the dresses starting in the £200-300 area it wasn't really a good prospect, more like just ideas. After that I wandered in to place after place, finding odd bits of ideas, just none that would be ideal for what we wanted. Eventually I did find something that vaguely fitted the idea for a base dress. Hurrah! And £15, perfect for stitching things on and not caring what happened to it. Plus, already quite lacy. Bonus.

So on I meandered. I would say marched, but I really was in getting-distracted-by-everything mode, it was fabulous. Some way along the road I came across a trader that specialised in hosiery of all sorts of interesting types, patterns, colours, textures. The range looked perfect. So another quick photograph so that we could have a look later (which we didn't) and then on I went. By now though I'd wandered in to the antique section of Portobello Road, and I knew I'd have to push past this and get nearer to Notting Hill Gate tube before things got interesting again! But that doesn't mean there wasn't anything to have a nosey at, I did find one fabulous display that really caught my eye...

Fortunately I am made of stern stuff and managed to avoid buying any shiny things. Good. Yes?

As I made my way back, intending to drop in to the haberdashers further down, I walked past and then did an about turn as something caught my eye... Perfect! Floral tiaras, the sort of things that an imp, fairy or fallen angel would *obviously* want to have adorning their heads. All we had to do was pick a suitable colour and away we go!

I didn't stop to choose though., time was up and I needed to return and look vaguely industrious.

As a plan it couldn't possibly fail...

...Until my flatmate sent a text saying she'd decided she wanted to wear red. Now that could work. I also had red. This was followed by various links via messenger to different dresses from the oooh-lovely to the oooh-matron. All very distracting. Not as distracting as the DMs I was receiving on Twitter by this point, but distracting enough. If nothing else the musing kept my mind occupied as I tried to make something approaching a decision. Not that this would happen. Obvs.

Later that evening after my flatmate returned (and eaten the leftover-risotto-stuffed-mushrooms and hot tomato sauce, she's never good to talk with when ravenous) we considered options. Not that we got very far. We ended talking about men instead. But we did focus on the problem in hand for a while. And then we slept...

...this morning the conversation continued, cups of tea in hand, sitting on the flatmate's bed we once more considered options. This was starting to get serious (tonight, she's out, tomorrow, we're both out) and all we had were a number of possibles, which, being Contrary Towers, we would immediately change our minds about. Oh dear.

What was clear was that Friday, when the plan is we'll go shopping during the morning, will be executed with a military like precision that would make the SAS look a bit sloppy. That is if they roll out of bed whenever, drink tea, stumble in to the shower, put a face on whilst bleary eyed and then slope off to Stratford like a pair of petulant teenagers looking for school shoes. That's military. Yes?

Anyway. We do have ideas and we do have the bits in place, just not actually managed to decide on what the final look should be. Just that there should be one.

It will all come together perfectly on the night.

Gulp.