18th Party

It was my sister, Lizzy's granddaughter's 18th birthday party last night. It was held at the club where I'm having my 60th. I'm having the same DJ, Eddie, so I had a chat with him about my party. I told him it was 60's dress. "So you want all 60's music?" he asked.
"Yes, please."
"No problem, I've got stacks of 60's stuff."
"And I want you to dress up." Pause while I weigh up his reaction. "You can be a mod, a rocker or a hippie." He looked a bit unsure.
"I'll see what I've got," he said. Eddie always has a fag in his mouth and a pint in his hand, but he's a good DJ.
I'm also having the same caterers and took the opportunity to discuss the menu. It's going to be June, so we don't want hotpot, but they do a mean curry and chili which I know would go down well. I took the menu home to ponder over it.
I want balloons and streamers and photos of me in the 60's. I want it as tacky and over the top as possible.
I'll be really brown after two weeks in Tenerife. The problem is, the pale and interesting look was in in the 60s. We wore layers of Max Factor pan stick on our faces and lips, caterpillar false eyelashes, and loads of black liquid eyeliner. Perhaps I'll wear factor 30 and keep my face out of the sun. I usually do anyway, to avoid the wrinkles.

I'm so excited. It's only two and a half months away.

Copyright © 2007 Barbara Attwood