Tuesday, 15 May 2012

A Packing List for Cannes

A few months ago, while we were huddled in a tiny cabin near Muodslompolo, northern Sweden, Monsieur received a text inviting us to the Cannes Film Festival.  Amused by the wild contrast between our Arctic adventure and the most glamorous event on the planet, he texted our giddy acceptance, and I joked about how much easier than packing for Lapland packing for Cannes would be.

Yeah, right.

We leave tomorrow and so far I've got an empty suitcase, a wardrobe full of glamorous clothes and nothing to friggin' wear. 

Two things are conspiring to make what should be a fun and indulgent packing experience a living nightmare:
  1. The Weather.
  2. My Knee(s).
The weather in Cannes is expected to be between 12 and 21 degrees Celsius.  That's like saying bring a bikini and a mink coat, which, I suppose, would be pretty a "Cannes" look.  But that's definitely not my look and still begs the question about what to wear in the evening, publicity seeking starlets notwithstanding.

Which brings me to the knee thing.

My original Cannes packing list included an assortment of chic short dresses which, come to think of it, could easily be worn with a jacket or shawl, should the Mediterranean wind pick up.  What I hadn't considered is that since injuring my knee a few months ago and giving up jogging and cycling at my doctor's behest, my legs don't look quite as presentable as they had in the past.  I learned this to my horror yesterday, as frock after frock revealed that I'd best keep my pins out of sight.

Then again, in as much as Cannes conjures up fantasy images of bikini + fur clad ingĂ©nues, these real images reveal that ropey knees are all the rage on the red carpet.  So who am I to buck the trend?




Style File Followers Take Note:
1. Technically, my wardrobe is not full of glamorous clothes.  Technically, my wardrobe is nearly empty and my bed, spare bed and floor are covered with glamorous clothes.
2. Fine.  I've decided.  If Uma, Sharon and Ines are happy to flaunt a little extra squidge, me too.
3. I wonder if I'll meet George Clooney somewhere.  Do you think he really drinks decaffinato?  I thought he was more ristretto too.  And gay.
4. I hope he's gay, or else I'll be doubly embarrassed about my squidgy knees.
5. To find out more about Muodoslompolo, read this.

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