Ok, I have to say it... I do not like New Years Eve. There, it's out in the open. I suppose I should apologise to the millions of people who love it. I'm not going to. I really don't like it.
It's not that I'm a party pooper, I'm really not. Any of my friends will tell you that I'm sociable and outgoing.
I don't even know why I don't like it. Well, I do. There are a few reasons which I will come to. It probably started when I was little. I don't have any memories of my parents celebrating NYE, but they must have done. I just don't remember. I can remember when they went out to functions for dad's work. He was so tall and elegant in his black tie. Mum was beautiful and petite in her shimmering taffeta and velvet. There was a buzz of excitement as they got ready. I loved seeing them look so glamorous and happy. I was excited for them! To me, they were the most beautiful people ever. To see that other side of your parents is quite awe-inspiring. Your are used to them in their work clothes, their casual, everyday clothes. To see them dressed up and going out was that secret and unknown life that only adults are party to. An exclusive club that we are trying to look into through the window, but we aren't tall enough to see.
Every year I wonder why I don't like New Years Eve. And I've come to this conclusion.... It's forced upon you. A false, almost manic gaiety. Should we really celebrate the passing of another year? Should we celebrate the beginning of another year? Of course we should. It's a sign that we have lived and loved and conquered; that we are ready to do it all over again. What I don't like, is when people say they are glad that year's over. Every year, month, week, day is a part of our life's experiences. Good and bad, they shape us. So, regardless of your year, have no regrets and embrace who you are.
But the falseness of New Years Eve really gets to me. We get charged exorbitant amounts to eat a preset meal and drink preset drinks. And don't even get me onto the cheap paper hats. The men looking like leprechauns and the ladies like peahens in their feathery tiaras. You are emotionally black mailed into wearing them because you can't be seen to be the party pooper. Everyone drinks too much and is far too loud. It's an excuse to get off your head drunk, with no regrets. Restaurants pack in more people than they have space for and you're almost sitting on the next table; close enough to join in their conversation! Don't get me wrong, I've been to some really good NYE dinners and had incredible food. It's back to that false gaiety.
In such a big crowd of people who are not part of my pride (I am a typical Leo), I feel vulnerable. It's like I'm absorbing all their emotions and it engulfs me. It's just too much. I find myself watching people to make sure they're not getting too rowdy, that everyone is staying in their happy place. I guess I like to feel in control of my surroundings and when there's a huge crowd of people, I don't. Anything could happen and there's nothing I could do.
A NYE I do love though, is a small group of my nearest and dearest. A dinner party. Good food, good wine and it goes without saying, good company. Reminiscing about the year ending and and excitement for the year starting. We can all hear other and actually talk. We are not caught up with the manic jollity. And I love the countdown. It IS exciting. Or maybe that's the kiss from my lovely Dicky B which holds all the love we feel for each other and the warmth of another year together, to share and experience. Champagne popping, corks flying, fireworks sparkling, it's a time to celebrate.
And the main thing I love? Come on, think about it. It's not hard, I talk about it all the time.
The outfits. I love dressing up. I love seeing everyone else dressed up in their finest glad rags. They hold such promise. It's a visual testimony to the new year.
This year my sister in law gave my lovely hubby a bow tie and cummerbund of their Scottish tartan. Bow ties aren't really my favourite things, unless they are untied and casually worn aka James Bond at the end of the night. Sexy. But with his mix and match grey tweed suit and brogues, he looked amazing. Very dapper. And me? Well, I wore a disco ball dress!! During a shopping trip with my lovely Lilly, I saw silver sequinned fabric. Of course I had to buy it. It was sparkly.
A trip to my tailor and one strapless, wiggle dress was made. Silver accessories and I was set to go. I felt amazing. It's probably my favourite part of the whole evening. It really is the perfect excuse to dress up to the nines.
Now, all I need is another excuse to get my party dress out. Whose holding the next disco party? Anyone? Please...
It's not that I'm a party pooper, I'm really not. Any of my friends will tell you that I'm sociable and outgoing.
I don't even know why I don't like it. Well, I do. There are a few reasons which I will come to. It probably started when I was little. I don't have any memories of my parents celebrating NYE, but they must have done. I just don't remember. I can remember when they went out to functions for dad's work. He was so tall and elegant in his black tie. Mum was beautiful and petite in her shimmering taffeta and velvet. There was a buzz of excitement as they got ready. I loved seeing them look so glamorous and happy. I was excited for them! To me, they were the most beautiful people ever. To see that other side of your parents is quite awe-inspiring. Your are used to them in their work clothes, their casual, everyday clothes. To see them dressed up and going out was that secret and unknown life that only adults are party to. An exclusive club that we are trying to look into through the window, but we aren't tall enough to see.
Every year I wonder why I don't like New Years Eve. And I've come to this conclusion.... It's forced upon you. A false, almost manic gaiety. Should we really celebrate the passing of another year? Should we celebrate the beginning of another year? Of course we should. It's a sign that we have lived and loved and conquered; that we are ready to do it all over again. What I don't like, is when people say they are glad that year's over. Every year, month, week, day is a part of our life's experiences. Good and bad, they shape us. So, regardless of your year, have no regrets and embrace who you are.
But the falseness of New Years Eve really gets to me. We get charged exorbitant amounts to eat a preset meal and drink preset drinks. And don't even get me onto the cheap paper hats. The men looking like leprechauns and the ladies like peahens in their feathery tiaras. You are emotionally black mailed into wearing them because you can't be seen to be the party pooper. Everyone drinks too much and is far too loud. It's an excuse to get off your head drunk, with no regrets. Restaurants pack in more people than they have space for and you're almost sitting on the next table; close enough to join in their conversation! Don't get me wrong, I've been to some really good NYE dinners and had incredible food. It's back to that false gaiety.
In such a big crowd of people who are not part of my pride (I am a typical Leo), I feel vulnerable. It's like I'm absorbing all their emotions and it engulfs me. It's just too much. I find myself watching people to make sure they're not getting too rowdy, that everyone is staying in their happy place. I guess I like to feel in control of my surroundings and when there's a huge crowd of people, I don't. Anything could happen and there's nothing I could do.
A NYE I do love though, is a small group of my nearest and dearest. A dinner party. Good food, good wine and it goes without saying, good company. Reminiscing about the year ending and and excitement for the year starting. We can all hear other and actually talk. We are not caught up with the manic jollity. And I love the countdown. It IS exciting. Or maybe that's the kiss from my lovely Dicky B which holds all the love we feel for each other and the warmth of another year together, to share and experience. Champagne popping, corks flying, fireworks sparkling, it's a time to celebrate.
And the main thing I love? Come on, think about it. It's not hard, I talk about it all the time.
The outfits. I love dressing up. I love seeing everyone else dressed up in their finest glad rags. They hold such promise. It's a visual testimony to the new year.
This year my sister in law gave my lovely hubby a bow tie and cummerbund of their Scottish tartan. Bow ties aren't really my favourite things, unless they are untied and casually worn aka James Bond at the end of the night. Sexy. But with his mix and match grey tweed suit and brogues, he looked amazing. Very dapper. And me? Well, I wore a disco ball dress!! During a shopping trip with my lovely Lilly, I saw silver sequinned fabric. Of course I had to buy it. It was sparkly.
A trip to my tailor and one strapless, wiggle dress was made. Silver accessories and I was set to go. I felt amazing. It's probably my favourite part of the whole evening. It really is the perfect excuse to dress up to the nines.
Now, all I need is another excuse to get my party dress out. Whose holding the next disco party? Anyone? Please...