Met a friend last night for dinner at new gin bar & restaurant. Huge list of gins served in goldfish bowls on stems – lush. All come with various adornments floating in them: peel, flavoured beans and fruit. Loved the idea of the previous three but drew the line at flower petals – don’t really want shrubbery floating in my drink. Thanks.
Picked a table in the window – had decided this was the bar to be seen in. Tables were all high with tall stools. ‘How trendy and cutting edge’ I thought, until I tried to sit down – in my short tight dress. My unfortunate choice of outfit allowed nowhere near the amount of movement and flexibility required to haul myself up onto the stool. And if I’d thought I could manage it with my dignity intact, I was sadly mistaken. Friend found this extremely amusing. Wearing her much more suitable skinny jeans she’d mounted her stool with grace, elegance and panache. Had she been forewarned?!
At the end of the evening bitterly regretted choosing a table in the window. Yes, this was the bar to be seen in – sitting demurely sipping gin, nibbling on the stylish hors d’oeuvres and politely acknowledging my friend’s jokes with tinkly, sophisticated laughter.
However, this was not the bar to be seen in when trying to climb down from the stool, getting my heel caught on the crossbar, missing my footing and slinging gin everywhere!
Really? Oh yes…