Sometimes Mother Does Not Know Best
Must… protect… hair… And also not be recognised whilst doing so.I love my mum. She is not, however, a woman overly interested in fashion and style. She believes in being appropriately dressed for the occasion; she favours modest attire (not too low, not too short); eccentricity receives a dubious frown, and she has strict notions of what looks ridiculous.
“You look like a gypsy!” she declared when I wore an emerald green Indian paisley printed hippy skirt with bells sewn in the hem (I was at art school at the time); too much ethnic jewellery is condemned as ‘drangulije’ – a lovely Croatian word for gewgaws; but her favourite Croatian phrase was an exhortation to ‘be proper!’ Er, perhaps I was a bit of a hoyden when I was younger. And more recently, when I wore my tomato red 40s hat on a visit to the parental home, it was not received with any degree of approbation: it was too odd in Mum’s book. In summary, one should not attract undue attention to one’s attire.
So I was justly indignant when my mother recently suggested that in case I should find myself outdoors in inclement weather, I should carry in my purse a plastic bag that I could place on my head in lieu of an umbrella. I’d like to see her do this. A more ridiculous notion I have never heard!
A plastic bag on the head would be a perfect substitute for an umbrella.
Prada’s clear plastic raincoat that turns opaque when wetMelbourne was experiencing some nasty winter weather at the time, and mum professed concern at my mode of transport to and from work: on foot through the Botanic Gardens. She questioned me closely on my attire, and I informed her reassuringly that I was wearing my red wool and cashmere coat, so was very warm. But that, apparently, was quite inadequate, as there are long splits on the sides under the sleeves. A plastic raincoat would be far more practical. Regrettably, I do not own a plastic raincoat (but if I ever saw one of those fabulous transparent ones Prada made a few years ago, I would snap it up).
A plastic bag on the head would be a perfect substitute for an umbrella. A good quality plastic bag, naturally; not one of those nasty cheap ones from the supermarket.
“Ven it is vindy, the rain blows under the umbrella and you get vet, darling!”
“But mum!” I protested between gales of laughter, “I would look like a lunatic!”
“Who cares! At least you vould be dry!”
“People would call the police if they saw me!”
“Bah! You are talking nonsense.”
It was remarkable how she could carry on with her exhortations even through my continued laughter. I need hardly add that on this occasion I did not take my mum’s advice!