Well, we all know party season is officially here because if you haven’t been blinded by the sheer panic of present shopping, you will be by all of the Aisling’s harassing our eyes with sequins in the Porterhouse.
I’m thankful though, that the majority of kitten heels have been traded in for a pointy glitter heel- for one night only. Oh the glitz and glamour.
To be fair, it takes a lot for us all to get to a level of presentation we’re happy with. Most guys will never understand the struggle of getting ready for a big night out. The most annoying thing about it all, is that I do it to impress myself. There’s nothing like looking in the mirror, coming in at a solid two and seven hours later appearing as a weak 9.
I also want to feel comfortable enough leaving the house knowing that when the girls tell me I look fab in pre drinks, it’s because I do and not because they’re either lying, or drunk, or both.
My routine normally starts with planning to do the majority of things the night before- exfoliating, my tan, my hair. Of course, that’s always the plan, what happens is normally quite different. Because if I haven’t been seduced into going for drinks that night, I decide to have a night in, and although the immersion has been on for three hours, I’m too cosy to move.
So normally, because I am a lazy hot mess, I wake up the day of the big night out, in a sweat with panic. I’d love to say I learn my lesson the next day, but sometimes I don’t. Now normally I muster up the courage to get naked in the freezing cold bathroom, I might throw in a quick look in the mirror and give myself a pat on the back. It’s not easy letting yourself go so quickly.
I have found myself on the rare occasion however, dousing my hair in a full can of dry shampoo because I thought it was more important to find out if Danny met Mindy on the Empire State rooftop. ‘It’ll be dark’, I said. ‘Nobody will notice’, I said. ‘Why are you grey?’, they said. ‘F*** off’, I said.
Once I get out of the shower, I go and sit in my towel for a solid half an hour, like I do every day. I never factor that into my ‘getting ready’ schedule though, because I like to pretend that it won’t happen that day. Once I’ve contemplated if anything is worth it anymore, it’s time to tan. Now by this stage, it’s all about the instant tan and I have two options: tan my whole body within 10 minutes so I have the option of wearing every outfit or tan only the body parts that will maybe be on show. Feet and hands it is!
I always do my makeup first and then I put on my outfit. I normally have an idea of what I’m wearing in my head, and this is to avoid crying my makeup off when I eventually try it on and realise I’m fat and my life is over, so I will probably sit this night out. I never actually do sit it out, so that’s why mascara is always last on.
A top tip I have is to have a few drinks before you chose your outfit. My reckoning behind this, is that you always feel a bit more confident after a drink or two. Or in my case, you think you’re fucking Kendall Jenner. This is probably why once I went out in a pyjama top after I drunkenly picked my outfit out. I was convinced no one would know/ everyone would love it/ everyone would think it was fucking couture. Oh how i was HORRIBLY wrong.
I think we can all attest to the fact that fake lashes are the worst things to happen a girl. They are the bane of my existence, yet without them I am nothing. There has been many occasions where I have text my friends telling them I’m not coming out and I haven’t given them a reason. Well, now you know girls. It’s because I couldn’t get human hairs to stick to my eyeballs the way I wanted.
And let me tell you this. Just because one lash goes on like a dream, doesn’t mean the other one will. No, no. When lefty just isn’t co-operating you can guarantee if the glue on righty doesn’t keep it on, your tears certainly won’t.
Now I know I mentioned that I base my outfit around the areas I tan my body. But not all of us are like this. Some of us also base our outfit on what areas we are willing to shave. Now this could be decided on a number of different reasons. 1. You might not be bloody arsed. 2. There’s just too much to tackle and this isn’t a bush tucker trial. 3. You don’t want to sleep with anyone tonight, so this is your contraceptive*
The biggest hindrance of getting ready has to be the whatsapp group chat of where to go for the night. Sarah wants to go to Flannery’s because she likes the music (her ex boyfriend is there), Laura wants to go to Sam’s because the guys there are hot (she’s banned from Flannery’s for getting sick on the bar), Ciara wants to go to Sophie’s because the cocktails are really good (the cock is really good) and Leanne wants to go to the Gypsy Rose because the fella she likes is going there and she’d be pure snappin’ if she missed him ( the fella she likes is going there and she’d be pure snappin’ if she missed him). We all settle to decide at predrinks, so it’s always a waste of our god damn time getting ready anyway.
Obviously, throughout the course of this complete nightmare of getting ready, you have septic time management, which you never seem to improve on. Because, it’s not that you care if you;re friends give out that you’re late. They’ve known you long enough, they can feck off. It’s the fact that you need to juggle being too early- where you run out of drink far too quickly, or being too late- where catch up will never ever ever ever ever ever EVER be your friend. You can only hope that one of the girls forgot to eat, and will be more messy than you.
So what would be my five tips for getting ready?
Don’t make unnecessary journeys, don’t take risks on treacherous hoes.
He met her at the Empire Building. It was beautiful, it was romantic, it was not worth the grey roots. Wash your fucking hair.
*You’ll still sleep with him, you’ll just hate yourself twice as much the next day.
Leanne was pure snappin’
Under no circumstances can you go out without listening to this TUNE to get you in the mood. I cannot stress the importance.
Until next week,