I’m not really a fan of playsuits.
Not that I don’t like the way they look, you understand. I think the right playsuit looks great. They’re cute, comfy and there is always that added bonus of being able to flash some leg without the fear of flashing your pants every time you bend over or sit down. Hell, I even featured one on my holiday wishlist!
Thing is though, the playsuit, as fun and cheeky as it is, also has one major downfall – it’s hands down the most impractical article of clothing ever invented. You may well now be thinking, ‘No! Wait! Surely the bodysuit, God rest it’s soul, is the most impractical article of clothing ever invented!’ and for a long time it certainly deserved that crown. But there is one area where even the evil bodysuit fares better than a playsuit, and that is toilet trips. Bodysuits at least have poppers on the crotch. Yes, they are fiddly, and on more than one occasion when drunk you may have had to resort to asking your bestie to ‘do you back up’ (I have actually never had to resort to this, just FYI, because I have simply refused to wear a bodysuit since at least 1995) but those poppers are all that is saving your dignity, my friend. Those poppers mean you don’t have to go through what my sister and I affectionately call ‘The Naked Experience’.
Ah yes, The Naked Experience. That wonderful moment where you take a second to absorb the fact that you are sat in a grimy public toilet, completely starkers. Well, you might be lucky and at least have a bra on. But more often than not? Completely starkers. It’s not my favourite thing, and as a result, playsuits and jumpsuits are not things that feature heavily in my wardrobe. Every now and then, though, I somehow get seduced by a particularly cute one, and the memories of the The Naked Experience become dulled somehow. I think, ‘It can’t have been that bad. Also, WANT IT!’ and all over again there I am, in a busy bar, in a playsuit, with the creeping realisation that soon enough I am going to need to pee… (On a side note, I once read that childbirth works like that. Your body actually blocks out the bad memories to make sure it doesn’t put you off for life. So playsuits are actually the sartorial version of childbirth. Just think about that.)
That is basically how I came to find myself wearing this get up on holiday. Except the basic old Naked Experience challenge wasn’t enough for me this time, oh no. I thought I’d add an extra layer of awkwardness by adding a belt, a belt that you have to completely remove every time you visit the bathroom and wonder where you can put it other than the grubby floor. Also, I chose to wear it to watch the England match. In the middle of a Greek heatwave. That bar was lovely and cool when sat under the aircon, but the toilets? Warm is not the word. Wriggling in and out of a playsuit is tricky at the best of times, but when you’re sweating up a storm and your skin is all slathered in slippy suncream? Um, undignified is the only way I can think to describe it. Thing is, the more I struggled, the more flustered I got. And the more flustered I got the more I started to sweat. Then when a queue started building up outside because I was taking so freaking long to dress myself…. well, you get the picture. In the history of poor outfit choices this one will probably go down as the worst. Even worse than the dress that I knew for a fact didn’t fit (which is still in my possession by the way. Go figure!).
The only thing for it was to drink as much as possible to blot it all out, and that is why the photos are so bad – it was basically getting dark before I remembered to take them, despite having been out and about in the outfit all day. Still, I managed to capture yet more beautiful sunsets for you, so theres always that. See, I look at them now though, and do I remember the Naked Experience in a sweaty Cretean toilet? Do I ‘eck. I just think, ‘Aw cute! I need to get MORE PLAYSUITS!’ Also, ‘OMG, I have BOOBS!’ because I honestly have no idea where they came from, or where they went. They aren’t here right now let me tell you. I really need to have a word with myself.
Seriously though ladies, why do we do it to ourselves?! Tell me you feel my pain?