What Not To Wear

Parent Bloggers Network is at it again, yup another contest. They have teamed up with Beauty Confidential and are asking us to post our worst beauty blunders. I'm pulling this one out of the archives and I know some of you have read this before and even though it happened to me I still think it's hysterical.


A few years ago we went to Al’s cousin Sandra’s wedding. Sandra and Dave were married at a historic church called St. George's Anglican Church, this is the church that Queen Elizabeth attends when visiting Ottawa.

I had two outfits one for the church and another for the reception. At the church I noticed a woman who was well past her prime dressed in what looked like a leopard print night gown. She was sexy yes but in my opinion not dressed appropriately for a church service. I whispered to Al “Hey look at the Poupoune” which is a slang French Canadian expression for a “Slutty Chick”; he rolled his eyes and chuckled.

The reception was held at a beautiful hotel called Château Laurier where dignitaries and presidents might stay while visiting our nation’s capital. I went up to my room and changed into my evening attire, a beautiful black sequined top with shear shoulders and arms, my skirt was elegant and long and made of the most delicate, lightest chiffon. Look out Jackie O.

We met for drinks in the bar, laughed and talked about old times and headed up to the reception for more drinks. It was an enchanted evening and I was glowing in the lights of good company and good drinks. Halfway through the speeches I had to leave my table to toddle off to the ladies room. I walked through the anti chamber and down the hotel hallway to the washroom. As I walked back to the reception area I sensed someone behind me and graciously held the door open to allow the person behind me to enter, the bartender thanked me. “Merci Madame”.

“De rein” I replied.

I kept walking past the bar, into the main reception area, past two tables and the woman that I had previously referred to as “The Poupoune”. I hear her random words in French come fluttering through my hazy senses.

Oh non! Madame! Madame, votre jupe, votre jupe et ….” (your skirt, your skirt …)

I’m thinking “Great what does she want, why is she chasing me?”

Apparently the bottom of my skirt was tucked elegantly into the top of my sheer panty hose and everyone in the hotel hallway, half the wedding guests and the bartender had a lovely view of my black thong.

What’s that old expression?

“Good judgment comes from experience. Experience comes from bad judgment.”