It's the Exposed Awards tonight. An awards night for local shops and bars and bands, run by the studenty entertainment magazine Exposed, it's basically an excuse for a load of mostly service-industry peeps to get together and drink free booze and congratulate each other on not committing suicide yet. I'm going with the crew from work, and I'm going sober. Should be a riot.
The awards are Great Gatsby-themed, so everyone has to stand on piers staring off into distant green lights feeling sad about how getting what you want is never what you actually want. But also we have to dress smart.
My choice is either a Ben Sherman suit that is at my mother's house and felt fashionably skinny when I bought it in 2011, but now probably looks full on grandad-baggy... actually that would fit with the night's theme, but also the suit was last worn at a wedding two years ago and definitely wasn't dry-cleaned afterwards, or since -- so basically I'm going for my other choice, which is black jeans and trainers and a tweed waistcoat I've sported at three staff nights out already.
I've popped to town for some new trainers, at least, so that I feel at least a modicum of freshness when putting the outfit on. The trainers have pink bits round the hem and look great in the shop, but when I get them home they're just shoes, the same as all other shoes, and don't stop me looking like an oaf, but I suppose that gives me something to stare off into the green lights feeling sad about, so in the end it has worked out nicely, and Fitzgerald would probably approve, if he wasn't busy getting sozzled at the bar letting his immense talent go to rot.
I did really like Tender is the Night though.
Anyway, I need to go wolf down some food and meet Mike and walk in with him, so that I don't have to push open some trendy warehouse door by myself wondering whether I have the right door and whether anyone will be there already and if not how I'll cope with standing by myself with my hands in my pockets feeling like the lamest goobiest pillock that ever existed -- story of my life -- so for now I'll bid you adieu.
Let you know how it goes (went) tomorrow.
Toodles.
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