All that Fitz…



Yes, a play on words…I am referring in an oblique way to the embarassing afternoon I had in our bedroom…you see, we are invited to a Greek wedding in Thessaloniki in July and that means appropriate clothes, i.e., summer suits and dresses.

Being a daughter of her ever organised mother, Laurie today pulled out of our closet all my more formal summer wear. That included four white, or vanilla, or cream coloured linen suits. Also, blue linen blazers, and grey linen trousers. (Keep in mind that I needed these in Venice – they were part of my uniform when I did the tours, alas.)  

So for one hour Laurie and I  had a humiliating (for me) try-on session with all the jackets and trousers on the bed and I trying each on, analysing  its fit or non-fit, and promptly tossing the item onto the too tight pile. In fact all the trousers and all but one of the jackets went onto the too tight pile.  O Tempore! O Mores!

I, of course, blamed her for the too rich meals she was forcing on me every day here.      

So tomorrow it’s off to Oxfam to unload the offending rags. Of course, the point of the white and cream coloured suits was that I lived in a hot Italian climate and it was appropriate to wear them there. Also, there is the style consideration.  But now I live in the artic zone and a white light-weight suit here would be laughable. You want style in summer menswear? Forget Dublin. Forget the boater, too. Especially in the summer which is  like the Venetian winters, most of the time.   Most  people here wear jeans. Have not seen a kilt in ages.  Lots of rainwear, however.

“Jaysus, will you look at this, Maeve!”, I can hear Ms Oxfam exclaiming as she looks at my donations.  Of course, I could exchange them for some corduroys and a heavy duty raincoat and some wellies. 



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