Its a long'n- but going to ireland and being on telly is a lot to write about!
Interesting flight with Ryanair, the emergency exit pull cord was held together with chewing gum (unsuccessfully at that) and the safety instructions looked like they had been drawn by a surrealist artist. I also overheard from the seat behind me. "Glad I renewed my life Insurance because that lever saying crucial is broken". Always good to hear when you're flying in a big metal tube 34000 feet in the air. I was also bearing perhaps the worst flu known to man, which meant my sinuses were a state. This resulted in excruciating ear ache when we were landing. And you know what? I cried. That's right. I sat in my window seat and cried like a four yr old because it felt like my insides were trying to evacuate my body using the left ear drum as the exit.
We were welcomed by a delightful Irish taxi man who worked for the hotel we were staying in. Me and mum stared at each other blankly as we attempted to figure out anything he was saying. He may as well have been speaking a different language his accent was so thick. We managed to decipher that he was talking about someone called Steve. "You know- Steve. You must know Steve! you don't know Steve?". Turns out that he was picking up this mysterious Steve fellow later that evening. And just because he was staying in the hotel too he assumed we would know him? The hotel had over 3000 rooms and a health center. Why would I know Steve?!.
As a designer we got put in a special suet. Had to be freaking special as it was a solid 12 mile walk from reception. But blooming heck oh my it was worth it! I walked in and was hit with a sudden sense of deluded self worth and grandeur. I felt like a cross between the American President and a wealthy old white man. I was overwhelmed with the urge to send out troops across the country while smoking a pipe. So I did what any iconic british designer would do- I sat at my monogamy coffee table and read the bar menu. Turns out being a designer really pays off, the bathroom was bigger than my bedroom at home, and had clearer instructions than the plane.
With my twin suite came an in house maid, in the form of my mum. Although she took all four of the hangers in the wardrobe and commandeered the only extra pillow. So my first night was spent attempting to sleep on possibly the worlds most perfectly horizontal bed, a spirit levels dream, mine not so much. She also woke me up at two in the morning to ask how to turn off the telly. So really I guess I was more her carer than she was my maid. Thanks mum.
Up at the crack of dawn with one mission- locate and repair. The dresses were shipped across on a pallet a couple of days before i arrived so i needed to try and find the damn things before i could start any sort of fixing session. Tracking down the dresses was quite the event in itself. We ended up having the whole security team of the events center trying to find them. i was walking across the room and spotted a beast of a box just standing there in the corner like 'and what. try move me, i dare you'. And yep, that was them. As soon as i started unpacking them i knew something was severely wrong as the black cling wrap was flicking me in the face with water. It was like uncovering a homicide, the further in i went to the sodden boxes, the more gruesome and terrifying the state of the dresses got. Once we had got them all out my stress levels had sky rocketed. Its safe to say they may as we'll have been chucked in the Irish Sea because it looked like they had swam here themselves.
Then started the repairs. There was a wall being built between me and my plug socket. So it was a race against time to mend the dresses before my glue gun got cut off. I don't think Manus picture below had encountered such an epic battle between wall and person before- I was determined to win, no mere screen could stop me. In the end they had to build the wall around me, leaving that panel until last as I was taking ages. But what could I do?! The 'truly absorbed' kitchen roll dress, truly had absorbed all of the Irish downpour. My mission to restore was just as important as separating the coffee area from the dining area.
I managed to get the dresses to a semi wearable state. My beautiful white, voluminous, wedding dresses were now flat, damp and tinged slightly yellow. The whole day left me on the floor of the hotel room with epic physical and emotional exhaustion verging on depression.
Up at 05:15 in the morning and off to Ireland AM I went. Had A lovely drive wedged between two Irishman on the front bench of a transit van while mum was nothing but a tiny voice lost in the back somewhere hopelessly clinging on to four dresses. Steve (to my left) was chatting up pip ("your mum? Could have sworn she was your sister"), if it wasn't for him being outrageously gay I would have called him a perve. Especially as he touched my seatbelt buckle for that second too long when feigning assistance. But he was harmless- did hair and make up on the Keith Lemon movie. Pretty much meant I was rubbing shoulders with the stars- literally. His hands touched Kelly brooks hair. Later on that day they then touched my hair. So that confirmed it; I'm a huge deal.
Perhaps my favorite moment of the whole trip was when one of the presenters saw the kitchen rolls dress, was cooing and awing about how incredible it was and then hit me with "this is truly stunning. You should re make it out of proper material. I bet someone would buy it then". Literally- what. Are you actually joking. You ridiculous excuse for a human. I think my face said it all although I added "umm right. Thanks. That's my business down the drain then". She then came and found me after the show and apologised. She "didn't mean to offend me at all, was merely complementing what an exceptional eye for design I have". Thanks you tit. Your comments have been left in the 'give a shit draw' along with my ex boyfriend.
Then I got miked up and on the box I went. First of all I went for a wee and then had the after thought that it better not be turned on. I think I was safe though as no one looked at me with disgust when I walked out. I looked like a remote control human.
Then I gave it the old charm offensive on the box and it was all over. I cleaned up any remnants of Dumpster Design the dresses had left behind in various places across the studio floor and back in the taxi I went. Steve came and sat by me again. Said I was great and that he could tell it wasn't my first time on TV. I lied and said "of course not, I do it loads". That's not true. It was my first time and I was scared. Watch it HERE.
Got back to the events center dropped off the dresses back stage for the catwalk show and then I WAS FREE. I was done! I could finally relax. Get smashed up and boozy in Irelandddd! Me and Pipcorn ran (literally ran) back to our room and got straight in bed. We watched come dine with me and I dozed off. That's right, proper lads. NEVER been so content.
I managed to grab the catwalk show before I flew home. My dresses headlined the whole event and they did look swell. However I had cut all emotional ties with the dresses as soon as I handed them over to backstage. It seems I had developed a deep distain toward them after looking at nothing but them for the last 32 days. It was an utter delight not to be affiliated as their carer. And actually for once I was able to enjoy watching them on the catwalk rather than stressing out backstage that they weren't laced correctly.
All in all a good trip. Possibly the most emotionally unstable I have been in a long time. But here's to Pipcorn for dealing with the epic mood swings and at some points fowl language. Thanks mum. You da best.