It’s the clothes crisis to end all clothes crises; the one where my anguished cry of “I’ve got nothing to wear!” is more founded that at any other time of the year.
It’s the clothes crisis that has me eyeing up the bedroom curtains sideways while my mind concocts some vision of me looking like Cleopatra in an episode of ‘Rome’ and I have to summon reality back to the front of my brain to remind me that I’m far more likely just to look like some ‘saddo’ wearing a curtain.
Carnaval’s so early this year; it feels like I’ve barely had time to put the Christmas decorations away before it’s arrived. I’ve had visitors, still do in fact, and they’re not due to leave until Thursday afternoon; just 2½ days away from the opening night. I’ve had loads of work to do; once Carnaval starts, it’ll be impossible to arrange visits or interviews and deadlines still have to be met.
I can rattle off excuses until the first float leaves Castillo San Felipe on it’s way to the town and I’ll still be kidding myself; it’s the same every year, regardless of when it falls, I’m never ready.
Two years ago we were watching the Barcelona match on TV just 3 hours before the start of the opening party and it wasn’t until half time that we even started thinking about a costume. That year it was the old mosquito net that saved the day, creating a wedding dress for the Corpse Bride, its torn surface and dusty seams lending just the right look to the ensemble.
Last year, final reductions in the January sales at the supermarket yielded 2 very cheap and nasty Boho/gypsy skirts which, worn one over the other, accompanied by fishnet tights and ankle boots and hitched up to reveal one knee, created the Folies Bergère look to go with the ‘Paris in the 1920s’ theme for 2007.
So I might as well resign myself to the inevitable last minute panic of scrabbling about in the box under the bed where we keep all the accumulated ‘props’ from Halloweens, fancy dress parties and Carnavals and hope that, with the addition of some yet-to-be-discovered item of clothing or of household furnishing, I’ll be able to enter Puerto’s Plaza Charco on Saturday night with some semblance of confidence.
On the plus side, as this year’s theme is ‘fear’, I might even get away with the bedroom curtain outfit and pass myself off as a nightmare.