Dressing UP.....Or Down

The right outfit for the right occasion - that’s the ticket! Attending a funeral dressed as, say, a jockey, might cause comment (unless the funeral is Seabiscuit’s) and the rules for dress-down-day in the office only go so far - men wearing skirts that finish above the knee are frowned upon, fur may draw furious tutting, and dressing up as a Borg may lead to a fistfight in the loo with the Klingon from accounts.

It’s odd that in a time of apparent plenty, there’s so little evidence of choice of dress being exercised. This statement is drawn from a random sampling of the youth/delinquent hybrids on display outside McChunders. They appear to have been produced from the same jelly mould, all wearing ‘leisure wear’, mobile ‘phones and assorted acne with attitude.

And so to a company dinner on Tuesday at an altogether too fancy resteraunt. What to wear?Business suit?...Nah…too ‘work’. Jeans and a waistcoat? Nope…too much chance of the CEO having a stroke (and not in a good way). So I opted for the ‘safe’ black option, whilst everyone else opted for…yep, you guessed it…jeans. Bastards.

As for dinner, I sat next to vegetarian who, I’m pleased to say, I managed to cure by the end of the evening. I simply explained that the best way to show your concern about the ethical treatment of animals was to buy free-range, organic meat. Indeed, why not adopt or sponsor a beast, so that when your cuts come they are accompanied by a booklet showing Gerald the cow frolicking happily in pasture and living a happy life - right up to the moment they meet Mr Volt and Mr Bolt.

The food? Not bad, but mass catering will never be as good as locally sourced, in-season food cooked for a small dinner party in a kitchen a few yards from the table.

I Even got a gift! How cool is that? - like a posh happy meal.

Service was great though. Wine? Free! Hoorah!