Chic Week vs Bleak Week // Holiday Special


Chic Week vs Bleak Week // A Holiday Special // Almost Chic
Right, this was not the post I was planning on writing today but I've royally f***ed my hard drive up and temporarily (I hope) lost all of the pictures for my upcoming posts (and pretty much all of my pictures from my entire life - devastated doesn't even cover it) so we're going to have to run with it. Silver lining is that I've been planning on starting this blog series for a while now but haven't quite found the proper motivation, until now. Welcome to Chic Week vs Bleak Week. 

If you've read my About Me page (if not PAUSE your reading and check it here now) you'll understand that my blog name Almost Chic is supposed to be a wee bit of a comical representation of myself. In a nutshell; I don't take myself too seriously and ponce think I'm uber duber trendy and chic - as much as I'd like to be. I spend my days trying to mould myself into a very well put together, proper grown up but in reality I'm a bit of a walking disaster.

Very occasionally, as I bumble my way through life, I will have a miraculously chic moment but it's normally overshadowed by a series of pretty embarrassing, albeit entertaining, bleak moments where I epically fail at being a chic human being. Sometimes I fail at being even a bog standard human being. Those around me tend to find a fair amount of hilarity in my daily travesties so I've decided, in true millennial style, to start sharing these hugely embarrassing moments with the entire internet (well, all 3 people that read my blog and probably already know the stories anyway ... HIYA Mum, Dad and BF).

Each week* I'll be sharing a chic highlight that made me think I was perhaps beginning to achieve my dream of being a bit less crappy at adulting. And then, incase you somehow haven't figured it out yet, I'll tell you all about a bleak moment which proceeded to crush the dream. To kick Chic Week vs Bleak Week off I have a couple of holiday specials coming at you because isn't a holiday just made up of a plethora of opportunities to outrageously embarrass oneself. Or is that just me?

*SPOILER ALERT this is probably a false promise, it's doubtful that I'll stick to a schedule so realistically it'll be every few weeks.


Chic Week

As you all know, since I've been harping on about it so much, I was on a holiday to Hawaii recently. It was fabulous obviously but today we are going to talk about the journey home. Which was almost as fabulous as the holiday itself. My boyfriend managed to wangle us some first class seats for an amazing deal (he's an airmail genius. And on a long haul flight like this one that meant our chair turned into a bed, the holy grail of airplane seats.

Excited for the flight I arrived at the airport in a "thrown together" but actually meticulously planned outfit. This flight was going to be a big deal for me, I wanted to get it right. After scrolling through many an airport OOTD on Insta I decided on a super comfy but still classy black dress, a brightly patterned bomber jacket to keep it looking fashion friendly, my brand new Lululemon tote (it might not have been a Louis Vuitton but I felt like I was the bee's knees carrying it and it was the perfect carry on) and flip flops to keep it all casual. Because you don't want to be that one who gets too dressed up for the 11hr flight in high heels and un-comfy trousers. You're just going to look stupid, not fancy.

Though we blatantly didn't belong with our blagged tickets, the flight was dreamy. I sipped more champagne than I care to admit, munched down a steak dinner (with real cutlery, yup airplane food goals), snuggled down with a good book on my Kindle then had a good few hours of blissful sleep in a bed that was probably comfier than our own at home. Instead of arriving in London feeling groggy, gross and grumpy like I normally do I was well rested, refreshed and feeling pretty darn chic.

I'd had such a great flight that I was pretty sad it was over, I'd have been happy to stay in my private little cabin forever. Nonetheless when it was time to go I floated towards the airplane door, Kindle still in hand trying to finish one last chapter, and stood patiently until the crew were given the go ahead to let us off all the while trying my best not to flash any smug, or worse - pitying looks to the dishevelled cattle class citizens also waiting to get off the plane (don't worry I'm allowed to say that because I'm normally always the MOST dishevelled cattle class dweller). My first class experience had left me feeling like I was on Cloud 9, so obviously the universe decided it was time for me to remember who I really was and took action to knock me back down a few pegs...


Bleak Week

To my dismay, when the doors opened I was faced with steps. Am I the only one who gets a little bit of ridiculous childlike glee when you get to go through the cool tunnel-ly things to get into the airport? Anyway there are worse things in life than a set of airplane stairs so I graciously let a couple of sleep deprived travellers go in front of me - they'd had a tougher flight than me after all - and began to descend.

SNAP.Of all the moments to choose to betray me, my treacherous, evil flip flop picked this one. Just three steps down a busy flight of stairs the god damn flimsy piece of rubber holding my toes in gave way. My foot slipped forward before I knew what had happened and I went flying, arse over tit, down the stairs. After tumbling almost to the bottom I finally came to a halt on my bum with battered arms from my efforts to save myself , one missing flip flop, an upside down Lululemon tote and a very red face. I looked back in shame to see a queue of people piling up - unsure whether to laugh or offer help - and my shocked faced boyfriend trying to gather the flip flop and kindle trail of devastation I'd left in my wake. And balance was, once again, restored in the world. Bleak.

I tried to stand in the most dignified manner possible, knowing that most of the passengers had just seen my pants, and limped down the last couple of steps blinking back hot tears of embarrassment. I was standing to the side of the steps trying to get my s**t together with help from a hysterically giggling boyfriend, assuming that the ordeal was over. But the universe wasn't quite done with me yet. An air hostess came shooting off the plane, shoving people out of the way carrying my patterned bomber jacket. She was in such a panic to find me that she ran straight past me and sprinted across the airport tarmac asking people had they seen me. Of course people had seen me. Far too much off me. So those who had just stopped staring turned back to point and draw yet more unwanted attention to the fact that I was standing like a flamingo by the sides of the steps trying to get my traitorous footwear back where it belonged on my trembling foot.

She wandered back with a baffled look on her face as to why I was still hovering around the edge of the plane and handed me my jacket. I thanked her through gritted teeth wishing she had just kept the stupid jacket. I could feel so many sets of eyes on me, I just wanted the ground to swallow me whole as I hastily shoved the rest of my belongings in my bag and we finally hurried off in the direction of the terminal. I definitely wasn't feeling quite so smug about life anymore.

At least next time I bunk down back in economy I'll know that I'm definitely where I belong. With my true people. What did you think of my first Chic Week vs Bleak Week? Are you keen to read more? Please let me know some of your bleak holiday stories so that I know I'm not the only one who's tripping, spilling and fumbling my way through life!

This was my second post from the #LazyBlogging Project I'm taking part in with Ella and Katie. If you don't know what it is I have a post explaining it here. If you're following our project make sure you've seen our latest posts;
  • My 2nd post - Kale and Mixed Grain Salad Recipe // Chic Eats
  • Ella's 3rd post - 4 Shows From My Teens
  • Katie's 3rd post - All The Bright Places // Book Review

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