I don't know what inspired me to pick out a matching khaki skirt and shirt to wear to dinner at June's house last night. All I needed was a toggle and I'd be a first rate Arkaler. I actually looked stunningly like Mrs Gilyead, our Abbot's Hill Lacrosse teacher, minus the hairy mole. I fished about in my cupboard for a while, feeling a bit listless, and decided that as it was a Monday we'd probably be eating a bowl of pasta around the pool so I could probably wear shorts. I even tried on the new brown Sperry Topsiders with it and decided it was very J Crew, you know, just gay enough. But who cares? They're our good friends and it's a Monday night and I can't be bothered to wash my hair, so I pull it back in a hideous frizzy pony tail and throw on a hair band for good measure. Finally, I decide to put on some heels because I'm feeling tired and frumpy. J is uncharacteristically putting on a shirt with cufflinks, the silver knots, which I help him with and decides to wear a jacket. "Why are you wearing a jacket" I ask? Even Minky puts on smart shorts and a silk shirt. I change my bra. I figure a push-up and heels will make up for my hideous hair.
J was in a rush to get there and will hardly stop to let me put on mascara and to paint in my eyebrows, so my overall look is something close to games mistress with facial palsy as my expression is only half-startled. Thank God I remembered lip gloss and I grip the bottle of wine we're bringing between my knees as we hurtle down Loma Vista and I try to apply brown eyeliner without putting my eye out. J&B's street is full of cars, mostly from the Jennifer Aniston construction going on across the street, but they all seem to be working rather late tonight. No matter. We park & walk in, to be greeted by the divine B, looking awfully fetching in a red silk Hawaiian shirt. June is the most organized, punctual and tidy person I know, so when B yells, awfully loudly, I think, "June, Come OUT here" I immediately wonder what on earth she's doing, or whether she's stuck in a cupboard somewhere. Come out here? So we begin to walk into the kitchen and suddenly there is the most almighty "SURPRISE!!!!!". Familiar faces pop up one by one like flashbulbs...all the people that I love seem to be crammed into June's kitchen, one face after another, and everyone is grinning at me, wildly, possessedly even. And then it dawns on me as I stand there in my gym mistress uniform with my hideous hair, that it's a party for me, a birthday party, and it's one month early. I think I exited the room at that point and re-entered. All my pretty girlfriends are wearing party frocks and beaming at me, super-lovingly.
I'm completely dazed. I'm not sure whether to cry or laugh or run away or apologize for the state I'm in. Someone shoves a glass of palest pink rose into my hand. I start to kiss everyone. "Are you surprised?" they say. Am I surprised? Do you see what I'm wearing? Have you ever seen me show up to a party not in little black dress with at least an attempt to run a straightening iron through my hair? I am completely at a loss for words. I stumble outside and there is a long table set up on one side of the pool, covered in a fuchsia pink tablecloths, with bright orange napkins, and bowls of pink peonies running down the middle. All I could think to do was to apologize profusely for the way I looked and hug people all verklempt.. Matti delivered the coup de grace of the evening, "Darling I thought your outfit was contrived as a tribute to Steve Irwin, being that you'd spent the day with the stingrays, and all."
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