Sari.

So, last night we had the babysitter in for the second night in a row. What a treat. In the teeming rain we donned our Indian garb and headed down the road to the Indian Cultural Society of Tasmania Annual Dinner. A lovely school mum had given me a tutorial on Wednesday on how to wear my sari that I'd bought last year in the Udaipur market. Of course, when it came to wrapping, pleating and tucking all of that fabric on my own I turned into a tea pot. This was the best I could manage:

Even though I was channelling Elizabeth Hurley's big fat Indian wedding with every fibre of my being....I don't think you can tell, really. As soon as we arrived, my sari mentor whisked me into the loo's and told me to 'take it all off'. I did as I was told and in no time she had me fixed. There were so many gorgeous sari's. Truly, does a more exotic, glamorous, flattering outfit exist. It is even better to wear it while eating Indian food and watching Indian dancing....it adds extra atmosphere, a certain je ne sais quois.

There was a fashion parade....can you believe that Hobart boasts it's own Bollywood fashion boutique. This prompted my husband to comment that I need more bling.....I couldn't agree more.

They had prizes and somehow we took out the 'Best Dressed Couple' title and were rewarded with a curry voucher and a discount in the Bollywood boutique. I'm sure we only won because not many other women in sari's had managed to induce their husband to wear a Kamahl style knee length shirt. Sorry there's no visual on this, really I am.

I loved every minute of last night.

Yesterday afternoon I'd led an expedition to Salamanca to see Charles and Camilla. Sorry, Faux Fuchsia, I failed to pass on your best to Camilla. In my defence, it was bucketing rain and I may have been wearing my Hermes Scarf, which of course they warn you can be irrevocably damaged by rain...I also had to preserve my hair from rain induced frizz so I could go to the Indian Dinner. We saw Charles though:

Tonight, my second cousin, who I've only met once, back when I was extremely young (e.g. a v. long time ago) is dropping in for a tipple. Mum was reminding me how in her misspent youth she became a Hare Krishna..... I can't wait to meet her. As children my sister and I thought having an earring your nose was the height of exotic glamour. I wish I'd had one last night to match my sari. Who says nothing exciting ever happens here in Hobart?

Rx