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Dressing for Radio
I was on the bus yesterday evening heading for my niece's old-time-music-hall school play extravaganza when I took a call from my sister. 'Did I mention that the audience is meant to wear Victorian dress?' she casually enquired.
I was in my casual evening uniform of slim fitting short sleeved navy
cashmere jersey, knee length grey tweed skirt and very high peep toe patent shoes.
With regret, I thought of the many Victorian items in my daughter's fancy dress
box: the floor length broiderie anglaise layered cape, the green velvet
evening cloak, the black lace dress with the bustle. It is an important part of
my relationship with my nieces that they consider me to be, somehow, 'game'.
But what to do? I cast my eyes found the lower deck to see if anyone was
sporting a fan or a bonnet. They were not. I wondered about adorning my upper
lip with a kohl pencil curly moustache, a little bit Chaplin a little bit Dali,
but I didn't want to embarrass anyone. I could turn back but I was already
late. Forlorn and apologetic I fetched up at the school gates in my
spring/summer 2004 clothes feeling like a failure. I love music hall songs and going
about my everyday tasks I often burst into a few choruses of 'Are we to part
like this Bill?' or 'The Boy I love is up in the Gallery.'
It's been a tricky week sartorially. My biggest dilemma, bizarrely, has
been what to wear on the radio interviews I have been doing to promote my
new
book, and in particular what outfit would make me feel outgoing and alluring
enough to be worthy of questions fired by Miss Vanessa Feltz, Marylebone's
answer to Donatella Versace. A long time fan of Vanessa's I wanted to present
myself, somehow, as a bit of a chip off the old block. I wasn't exactly
intending to hold forth about my passion for the metaphysical poets on air (which
I happen to know is her specialist subject) but I REALLY wanted her to like
me, as
I like her. Has anyone ever had their hair done to go on the radio? I
discussed it with the hairdresser at some length as he preened and crimped. 'Well,
even if you get lost for words', he reasoned, 'at least everyone will be
able to see you've got great hair.'
With my locks doing a fair impersonation of a Charlie's Angel I wanted
everything else to look rather spry and crisp. I found a white cotton sateen
top with lace trimmed sleeves at Paul and Joe and teamed it with a plain navy
and white pin striped pencil skirt that was faintly nautical. Round my waist I
tied an old Blumarine white knitted rayon cardigan that was printed with
large green hearts. On my feet I wore high brown wooden wedge heeled clogs. Then
I bought the nicest bunch of flowers I could find - twenty long stemmed old
fashioned dolce vita roses- and headed for the the radio studios.
Vanessa was charm itself, intelligent, glamorous and self assured. She
asked me to read a few pages from Only Human, and then we discussed my
eccentric marriage counsellor heroine Marjorie Hemming and the scrapes she gets into.
After a while the conversation turned to a survey that had been published
that day on the subject of What Makes Women Happy? While they did the traffic
news and Vanessa applied lipstick from a pink and white Dior make-up bag, I
lined up some sweet little comments about how praise is very important to me in my
domestic life. I don't exactly need a medal if I remember to buy the tooth
paste on time but I do require a certain amount of acclaim; but before I knew
it the subject was running away it itself. 'Forty per cent of women withhold
sex if they feel their partner haas not performed enough household chores! Is
that something you do Susie?'
Oh oh, I thought, mumbling something like, 'Couldn't possibly comment.'
'Why is it that men always try to have sex with you after you've gone to
sleep?'
'Ummmmm, dunno'
'Come on Susie...'
'Errrr'.
'Come on....?'
Suddenly I thought back to a time at a neighbour's house when I was five
and an older boy asked me to take off my top and I said 'No way!' and after
that he didn't like me any more. But then I remembered my head of curls and my
rather elegant, quietly fashionable clothes. Courage I self-chided, sitting
up tall in my seat.
'I'm just here to talk about my book,' I announced quietly. 'Thing is, I
like to make stuff up.'
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