On Friday I went to Glorious Goodwood. It was my boyfriends mums birthday and I was lucky enough to score an invite. Anyone who knows me will vouch for me being a complete and utter cheap skate. My purse strings are tighter than the Virgin Mary. So when it got to 2 days before Goodwood and I still hadn’t found a suitable dress on eBay or in the back of my mums wardrobe then I decided I might as well do my job and make one. Considering I haven’t worn one of my own designs since I was 16 and my cardboard dress split down the middle on the dance floor, I was skeptical but cheap enough to persevere, so myself and my cat got to work.
The day ended up breaking down into a five finger challenge. I was faced with Challenge One; to sit, when we arrived at the coach. The simplest of things can get a bit a tricky when wearing rubbish, but id planned ahead and made the dress from jay cloths and bubble wrap, meaning although I en-gulphed anyone within a 2 seat radios, I was in fact sat down, and with an admirable amount of ease as well. I probably saved my self some from some sort of disease or STI from the old-school bus seats spotted with questionable stains and crusty patches- an unforeseen perk.
Immediately I was presented with Challenge Two; staying sober enough to network. It was Goodwood, everyone looked stunning, we were celebrating a birthday and the sun was shinning- all these things put together meant I was having trouble seeing by 11:30am. Considering we didn’t even get there until 12 this was an impressive feat. It was made apparent when we arrived that the dress was going to cause quite a stir, meaning I was going to have to take advantage and network whenever someone approached me and commented on what I was wearing. This lead on to Challenge Three; being pleasant for an extended period of time. I Occasionally have a potty mouth that could make a drunken sailor cringe. Having to keep this under wraps, whilst drinking and for hours at a time was possibly the hardest challenge of them all. I’m not an overly confident person, and having people come up to me makes me feel uncomfortable and immediately awkward. My normal go to way to deal with this is say an inappropriate sarcastic comment and walk off. But i was there representing my company so the real Daisy couldn’t slip out. Not even for a second. There seemed to be a lot of cameras snapping pictures and newspapers asking for details, thankfully I scrapped my heels before I even left the house so at least I had a chance of standing up straight and my boyfriend was on call to stop me doing anything stupid like picking my nose whilst being pictured for the Daily Mail. So apart from the occasional hiccup (like when an elderly gentleman popped a piece of bubble wrap and I replied with a horrifically inappropriate comment about how "he could pop me anytime" or "I could sit on his lap and absorb any spills." Daisy you tit.) I think so far all was going well.
Then bang. I was struck by Challenge Four; going to the toilet. As I already said, the dress had enough volume to engulf two bus seats, so fitting it into a tiny toilet cubical was like some sort of Houdini trick. Me being sufficiently drunk found this hilarious and I’m sure any of the other females hearing me giggling in the stalls along with the sound of rustling and popping of bubble wrap would have thought there were some extra curricular activities going on other than just the call of nature.
(Yep I'm on the loo- yep I'm taking up the WHOLE cubical)
Then finally, as the day was drawing to an end, Challenge Five; rain, became a reality. It was left in the hands of God and he must have slipped up and spilled his drink or something because we had a short, sharp burst of rain. The birthday Girl is an absolute whirlwind, an undeniable force that oozes the actual real life emotion of ‘happy’, she is magnetic and in being so manages the most incredible feats. So whilst she was conducting the whole brass brand in the Richmand enclosure to play Happy Birthday to her the heavens opened and my dress took it like a man. I both absorbed with the jay cloths and repeled with the bubble wrap, and by the end of it all the dress was left unscathed. A waterproof rubbish creation.
I had a lovely time at Goodwood, a lot of valuable connections were made and the amount of interest the dress generated was enough to settle the niggle in my mind saying “wat dat heck yo playin’ at Girl. No one wants a paper dress!” (The niggle is voiced by a 90s rap star) that sometimes arises after pushing on a lot of closed doors.
So there we go! Bish Bash Bosh Goodwood done.