the indian i can do. curry doesn't demand special dress. but in my mind, the crowd dynamic of which we will be a part this evening is akin to the demographic one would find at a celine dion show. as someone who has never been to the icecapades or seen celine dion, i say this from a place of utter ignorance, but i do imagine it will be a mass of older, decidedly paunchy people wearing pastel tees.
that is a profile we do not fit. e is the only person i know who carries her train shoes in a silk bag and buys anthropologie first-run. i, of course, am a pastiche of consignment shop sequins and skirts and high high heels. i expect we will not blend in.
a reality that has not prevented me from proclaiming to one and all that WE ARE GOING TO THE ICECAPADES. because something at once so unbelievably fabulous and monumentally uncool demands such heraldry.
an unforeseen, unfortunate effect of my heraldry being that in the last two days, no less than five people to whom i am related by blood have recanted at length the short tale of the one time my mum went to the icecapades in copenhagen and was pulled out on the rink to become a part of the show.
i will tell you the story...
my mum went to the icecapades in copenhagen and she was pulled out on the rink to become a part of the show.
there. you have now heard the story of how my mum went to the icecapades in copenhagen and was pulled out on the rink to become a part of the show in it's entirety (thrice) save for the tone of incredulous, plodding wonder in which it is always recited aloud.
i do not like this story. perhaps because i have icecapade envy. and because i have not been to copenhagen. and because it is a teeny tiny slip of a story that is always told in the stretched out manner of a sweeping historical epic.
but more likely, it is because in the family forward danish tales my mother is referred to as "little debbie," and i do not like this. because it is as though she were an entirely different person. someone who went to ice shows and wore bonnets and gingham. someone who could only ever be appreciated for her diminutive stature and delicious snack cakes.