|Yes, like this.|
We went to a museum the other day and, in it, there was a recreation of some Victorian streets, which is good. The children were thoroughly enjoying exploring them, though weren't terribly taken with the Hallowe'en stuff on display about the place, and we happened across a room that told us it was free for children to dress up. And dress up they both did: there were dresses and jackets and caps and hats and all sorts. The Boy wore a hat and a street urchins costume, which he absolutely loved, and went charging off barefoot to explore the streets. Girlie chose a long satin dress and eventually wore a mop cap to go with it. Both of them were very taken with the experience. Then we put them back and the Girlie re-dressed in circus get up, like a clown, in another part of the nuseum. It was a good experience for them and they enjoyed it.
And it got me thinking. I used to love the idea of dressing up as a child. There are pictures lurking somewhere of me in a toothpaste tube outfit, presumeably around Hallowe'en but I have no idea, and dressed as a skeleton (paper bones on a bin bag). But fancy dress was often beyond our abilities. In a Christmas play at school I was a reindeer, the pattern for the mask was given and the brown supplied by old trousers and a jumper. Then in another play I made a donkey mask and tried to dress all in grey, surprisingly difficult. In both cases my own masks were badly made and the costumes were... well, lacklustre. I'm not terribly practical. At University I dressed up a few times but, again, I was totally rubbish. I lacked the wherewithal to make a decent costume and the confidence to really push the boat out.
|Love this sort of thing.|
Maudlin. That is all.