Yesterday night I went to Bologna for a tango dance, and I finally had the occasion to wear my fringed "fake flapper" dress, and, above all, to try on me the gorgeous 1920-1930s hairdo by Iris, that I always wanted to.
I'll omit the fact that my mom laughed to tears when she came into my room and saw me, mouth full of bobby pins and eyes crossed in the attempt to see what I was doing on the back of my head - but lots of people congratulated with me for the hairdo during the evening, and I was actually very pleased with the result, too.
My mom took those pictures and, being sadic, managed to make my nose feature as the star of the performance - while the rest of my face is here only as a supporting role. I ask you, please, pretend not to see my huge resemblance to Adrian Brody when I'm half-face.
If you have the occasion to go out for an elegant soirèe - try this hairdo, people, it's great!
The dance was not as romantic as one may think - lots of sweaty fat men running one into the other - and the most funny outfits for the ladies - but I had fun anyway.
Someone should tell women that bright green shoes do not match a violet skirt, and even if they did, a brown t-shirt has little to do with the rest.
But I'm pedantic.
I'm quite sure, however, someone should warn women who are over sixties that golden lamè fabric is not what is usually called "sober yet elegant".
I wis I had a camera, because some of the outfits were something psychedelic... Not that I was particularly refined, but at least I left the feather boa home!