I wear your granddad’s clothes…

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So next weekend Mr Unprepared and I are attending a 30th birthday party. The theme is to dress as a Granny or a Grandpa (you know – to symbolise the fact that the guest of honour is getting OLD). In other words, we are asked to go wearing our finest hilarious “old people” outfits. I think right about here would be the part where my mum would want me to mention that despite being grandparents now, they are not old. Not old at all. In any way. That we must be dressing as members of OUR grandparents’ generations. Not hers or Dad’s. In any way. In fact, I feel compelled to mention that my mum is quite stylish and apart from some terrible decision making when it comes to hats, my dad is styled quite well (by my mum – sorry Dad – it’s true). There. Got that covered. Now where was I?

Yes, we needed to find some old person outfits this weekend and the best way to do that was to hit the op shops. Or thrift shops as they are also called. Yes. We took the Macklemore song quite seriously. Except we couldn’t play it in the car to set the mood, because the Little Mister was with us and did you know that songs have SO many swear words in them these days? I never knew that until I made a little person who has ears. Little midget kill joy haha.

Anyway, as we travelled from op shop to op shop, we had some ideas and some expectations to set. Some conversations  needed to be had.

Me: You know, because of the styles we plan on purchasing, we’re probably going to be buying the clothes of dead people, right?

Mr Unprepared: Um that’s morbid. But yeah, I think we should probably wash any clothes before we wear them. 

Me: Well, that goes without saying. I don’t mind if they are the clothes that were OWNED by someone who has now passed, but I draw the line at wearing clothes that someone ACTUALLY DIED IN. 

Mr Unprepared: I don’t think I want to do this anymore. 


We managed to avoid the clothing that had the previous owners’ names and nursing room numbers written on the tags, so that made it less creepy, I suppose.

Also, we couldn’t quite bring ourselves to wear some pre-owned (and very worn in) old person sensible shoes, so we decided to improvise from our wardrobes at home.

We somehow managed to avoid offending any beautiful, giving, older souls who worked at the op shops (bless them for giving their time and service). We managed not to snigger loudly or immaturely at the less than tasteful clothing items and we avoided any weird looks or strange questions about why we would purchase such things when we are clearly two young, hip looking individuals *cough cough*. Obviously these amazing volunteers know that a lot of their wares go to fancy dress parties and balls and that our money is going to good use in the community so it was all good. We got bang for our buck and original, inspired (haha!) looks that you can’t get if you visit a generic costume hire business!

Also, I realised that I am a vain old person at heart. My second hand glasses had to flatter and my grey old lady wig (brand new from the costume section of a store) had to look okaaaayish. Man, I’m going to be a dignified old bat one day.

I think I should prepare some sayings for the evening to randomly yell out at inopportune times. Old person style.

My brother hilariously burst out with “MY COLON!” today while mocking my (not old because Mum says so) parents. It’s not something I’ve ever heard them say (well come on), but honestly, it cracked me up so bad. Also, my parents didn’t hear him. Bonus.

Also, I must clarify that they didn’t not hear him because they’re deaf from old age. They hear very well. Because they’re not old. Duh.

Now if only I can prepare myself mentally to turn up at my inlaws’ house wearing my ridiculous “vintage” outfit to drop off the Little Mister for a sleepover before the party. Nothing is scarier than all that is involved in the journey from home to a fancy dress party. You get me, right? I know you do.

There’s the fear that you’ll have to stop at a petrol station and get out of the car, that fear that you’ll run into someone you know (who you’ve fooled into thinking you’re at least kind of normal) out of context, the fear that you’ll somehow accidentally attract the attention of a police officer and be pulled over in a ridiculous outfit.

I think I secretly like the danger of it all. It would make for a great future blog post, right? Stay tuned for some terrible photos (if I have the guts)!

I live with the comfort of knowing that next week’s Saturday night will be more exciting than this week’s – where I’m dressed like a granny for reals sitting on the couch and thinking I’m walking on the wild side because I’m awake past 9:30pm.

Happy weekend, everybody! Embrace your inner senior citizen with the passion of a silly youth.


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