Give me colour

After more than a year of La La Land living, I'm headed to my first crew wrap party this week. One of the perks of having a husband who works 'in the industry'.

Now, before you get too excited, it's exactly that - a crew wrap party. Not a cast wrap party, meaning that although Angelina Jolie was involved with this particular film, neither she nor Brad Pitt will be there.

This is a good thing, as it will save me from embarrassing myself should I come face to face with either one of them after one too many party drinks.

Despite the lack of 'stars', I still had a mild panic about what to wear. I'm not really one for getting glammed up, and the last time I wore a proper frock was for a wedding, two years ago. I am definitely a jeans girl.

To get an idea of how dressy it might be, I did some Facebook research on some photos from the last crew wrap party. Thankfully, there was a real mix - some people were dolled up in dresses, and others were in jeans with dressy tops.

That was a relief to see. Jeans it is then, with a nice top and some cute shoes.

Just a few problems - my favourite only pair of jeans has a noticeable hole stretching across the inner mid thigh of one leg, as a result of being worn almost daily over the last winter. Secondly, I haven't bought any new, vaguely 'dressy' tops in about a year, and am bored with what I have. Also, the cute shoes (with heels) are no longer an option, courtesy of a broken toe. Ballet flats will have to do.

This was the perfect excuse to hit the local mall on the weekend. I'm not actually big on clothes shopping, and when I have no luck with styles I like or sizing, my mood is altered drastically - for the worst. I rarely enjoy it and, personally, I don't understand the kick that so many others seem to get out of shopping.

Anyhow, I realised I had not left our apartment sans les enfants since my lovely birthday trip to San Francisco. A month ago. Okay, time to go shopping...

First stop was Gap. My last pair of jeans were Gap ones, and I was more than happy with how they fit and looked, so I grabbed a pair that was only a little different in style. I normally rate shopping for jeans up there with shopping for shoes - in other words, torture. I'm tall with a generous booty and hips, but a smallish waist, which means about 95% of jeans (when I sit) have a huge sag at the back of the waistband and reveal way too much of my - no delicate way to put this - arse crack. Not cool.

Once the jeans were sorted, my next mission was to find a top. I think I was only in Gap for a total of ten minutes. I didn't bother looking there for a top because they all seemed a little beige. Vanilla. Boring. I like a bit of colour if I'm not in black.

Next, I visited H&M. I've had a long-term affair with that store since we lived in the UK - albeit interrupted by our time back in Australia. I was pretty excited when we moved here and I learned that H&M was here too. What I've loved about H&M is how easy it is to find things that fit, especially when we were in the UK. Their range of sizes meant I never felt like a giant freak. The American H&M isn't as awesome with trousers etc (sizes geared mainly towards the scrawny end of the spectrum) but I've still got some nice tops from there.

However, when I walked in on Saturday, for the first time ever, I didn't see anything I liked. What is it with all the beige clothing everywhere?

Not sure of where else to look, I wandered into the neighbouring store, Forever 21. I've never actually set foot inside before because it always looked like it was more for teenyboppers. Happily, there were colourful tops galore. I still felt like a bit of a fraud amongst the shoppers who were mostly half my age, but I managed to find something appropriate for the party and it was a bargain. Win.

Not sure where I'm going with this post... but I just wanted to cheer for the fact that I got some new clothes (which I've been needing anyway) and it was relatively pain free.

It wasn't entirely pain free because my mangled toes meant I was hobbling and moving at a snail's pace.

What I've learned over the last few days is that one doesn't realise just how often small children - literally - step on one's toes until one has a broken toe. Yeah. Fun.

Also? The sound I make when they step on my toe is unnatural, because I'm trying my best not to scream, "FUUUCK! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!"

Instead, it comes out sounding, "AAAAAGH! AH-AH-AH-AH-AH!"

Kind of like a reverse laugh. I am anything but laughing.

Bring on the wrap party. J and I haven't had a date night since January, so I'm counting the days until I have purely adult company for an evening. I may not be hitting the dance floor, but I'm going to make sure I have a brilliant night anyway.