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Editions

What Women Want - November 2012

28 Oct 2012

It’s getting to be “that time of year”.

That time of year when, generally, excitement rises, when pulses quicken, when invitations are sent (and it would seem, as you get older, less frequently received) and plans are made.

Taxis are considered, a nominated driver is appointed – and then dismissed as a ridiculous notion – and the sad realisation hits that all hire cars are well and truly booked out.

Still, ignoring the inner voice that tells you you’ll probably end up walking further in the next few weeks than you have all year, you decide this year is the year to top all previous records of high heel-height. After all, they make your legs look great!

That’s right, it’s the start of the Silly Season. Most years, this brings a bucket-load of hope for singles – what an endless list of fabulous events and excuses to start drinking champagne before lunch.

Coupled with the crippling high heels, you just couldn’t be in a better position to meet someone. Well meet them you might, but with a bottle of champagne under your belt before 11, it’s always a bit tricky making the right impression – and the truth be told, generally by that stage, you’re not fussed! At least this year, you’ve got your “flats” in your handbag so you don’t have to do the walk home in stilettos – again. See, you are learning!

In fact, the Silly Season brings hope for all – for most of my gorgeously married friends, it generally means they hope their husband never sees the credit card bill for the ridiculously high heels (and the handbag, sunglasses and hat that match) they purchased for this season (to make their husbands look good, you understand).

I generally agree with them on this philosophy, as it is usually these ones that got in early and booked the hire car – and I don’t fancy walking home in my heels (or flats!) again!

For the men, it’s hope that this year’s tips will actually come off, and they’ll back a winner. And hope they can pass it off as being a result of their own scrupulous studying of the form guide.

I have found they also kind of hope you’re not paying attention to the fact they are wearing last year’s suit, or last season’s shirt, and just let them be to get on with the betting and the fun without the fuss.

They even seem relatively happy to walk home, particularly if it happens to be past a food stop on the way back. (Great news, that’s more room in the hire car!)

And the kids. Well, the kids actually just start to hope that Santa is noticing how good they were on those one or two days this year and hoping he didn’t notice all the times they shoved the clothes under their bed rather than clean up properly … For them it is the countdown for the biggest day, the highlight of the Silly Season – Christmas.

Whatever you are hoping for as the year rushes headlong into the craziness of celebrations and parties, I hope you find it. I hope your hat sits well. I hope you bet successfully, hail taxis safely and I hope you find joy. This is a time of year to celebrate – because no matter what you’re hoping for, we already have so much.

Have a fabulous racing season ladies and gentlemen! And careful of those high heels in the grass!

Lots of love.
Abby

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