A New View From The Jeep: Saturday, March 23

This week CONNIE is ruminating on the mammoth effort involved in prepping for social occasions …

Connie had a rather wonderful time at the March Ball, held recently in the Shelbourne, proper old school glamour and fun, brilliantly done and all in a good cause for the Peter McVerry Trust. Everything about the night was exceptional, even Connie would find it exceedingly difficult to find any flaw in the proceedings.

Indeed, her only gripe is the phenomenal effort required to allow One to appear fabulous at these events, even for an old hand like herself. Of course, she pretended to all and sundry that she got ready in five minutes flat when the reality was it took a ridiculous amount of time and planning not to mind it cost more than several months hire purchase on a new jeep. Mucho discreet eavesdropping in the powder room left her in no doubt that the vast majority of female attendees had also put in a marathon amount of hard work.

Whilst gals like herself wouldn’t dream of attending an ‘A-list’ event without some serious forward planning in the cosmetic injectables department, not to mind tripling one’s yoga classes and personal training sessions, even the quite ordinary girls all had to schedule hours and hours at the beautician. It’s so wearying fitting in the appointments and then enduring the waxing, tinting, plucking, manis and pedis and the dreaded spray tan – all must-do jobs – pretty much devoid of pleasure, a fact that bypasses most men who seem to think sessions with one’s aesthetician are a relaxing indulgence. This grooming drudgery alongside the hair planning – timing the colouring, the cut, and getting the absolute perfect blow-dry is quite frankly gruelling. No wonder one needs professional make-up on the day to erase the stress lines. It’s a tough slog and damned expensive and Connie is not even touching on sourcing a gown, shoes, bag, or jewels. That is its own entire lengthy drama.

She simply can’t help contrasting the situation with the Ruinators prep – a shower and a shake out of his badly-cut, off-the-peg dinner jacket and horrid elasticated bowtie – end of.  Although Connie rarely thinks too deeply about anything, she can’t help feeling there is an imbalance afoot and she begins to sense that ladies who lunch or indeed women who waltz need to be Woke and adopt simpler tactics for the whole social whirl. A concept that might necessitate a shift in one’s veritable makeup, but however mortifying and horrifying, it will definitely cause far less anxiety than that suffered by those ball attendees who woke the next morning having bid far too much on auction prizes, not to mind the unease endured by the stalwart ball organisers who still can’t trace these bravados …

Unsettling Connie observations.


Read previous instalments of A View From The Jeep …

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