And they're off

OPINION: Another year, another work-do and this year everyone's back at the races. And I mean everyone, writes Sarah McCarthy in this week's Uptown Girl.

There is horseflesh fever in town this week and all anybody is talking about is whether they are going to the races, and then what they are going to wear to the races. I had originally plumped for wearing my trackies and a T-shirt that shows off my back rolls, but then I remembered that it was the Gallops and not the Dogs and so I had to re-think.

I approached this rather scientifically in the vain hope that a nerdish background to my ensemble, even if only theoretically, would add a bit of hipster cool to proceedings. Time will tell.

First I took into account what I already knew about race-day fashion. I was at the races the first time I saw someone wearing a pair of poo pants (the girls now call them harem pants or pirate pants but in my day, the glory of the '80s, they were poo pants) and I was also at the races the last time I fit into my Carrie Bradshaw outfit (and later watched Mr mr and a pal do an interpretive dance to Against All Odds by Phil Collins in her lounge).

So we take that equation: Poo + Carrie Bradshaw. Then I took into account what I know the fashion in the field will be today.

I know that most people will be wearing red (yeah, sorry girls, you're totally all wearing red) and that most of those people and a good amount of those who aren't wearing red will nevertheless all be wearing a fascinator or at least a fancy clip thing in their hair. So there's the next part of my equation: red + Camilla Parker Bowles-type hair enhancer. Then I have to add in what I think I might wear and what I might look like in it.

Now, I've already misguidedly decided to use an ancient bottle of self-tanner on my pinky porky calves in anticipation of wearing some kind of a dress contraption and now my lower legs look like fat carrots, and the only outfit dressy enough for the races is a bit of an older Auntie (again with the older auntie) outfit that cuts off my legs at just the right spot for cankle-age. So we have fat carrots + cankles to add to the equation.

So, putting that all together I get Poo + Carrie Bradshaw + red + Camilla Parker Bowles-type hair enhancer + fat carrots + cankles, which equals there better be vodka in the punch because maybe I'll just blummin well wear my trackies after all. Either that or my wedding dress. Or at least the veil ...

PS: Spandal and Clark – I love youse.

» Sarah McCarthy is a Southland Times staff member.

- © Fairfax NZ News

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