It’s a Saturday night and you’ve decided to start all over again. It doesn’t matter that every Saturday night in recent history has ended with your skirt above your head and burger sauce on your face while you have a little cry in the back of a taxi and a cab driver tries to drown out the sounds of your sobs with Magic FM: More Music, Less Talk. Tonight everything changes. Tonight you will be it, girl. You’ll go out with your very best friends, dance to the very best songs and everyone will turn round and look at you and applauded when you walk in, like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever or Boris Johnson when he is seen cycling through actual London in real life.
Someone at the bar will get a whiff of your intoxicating scent as you breeze past with your Sugar Kane walk and whisper: 'Who IS that woman?' and the barman, with a tea towel flung over his shoulder will say in a world-weary tone: 'Her? Well, she’s something. Every woman wants to be her, and every man wants to have her', and then he’ll shake his head and laugh, like he’s never seen a sight quite like you. Well. Not in this particular branch of an All Bar One, anyway.
So what if it's taken you a while to get to this point...
Stage 1: The trusty jumpsuit
With all the above in mind, you decide to stick with your fail-safe garment for both flattering fit and ease of movement. Like the sexy, slinky jumpsuit that moves so well or the simple black dress that goes in and out in all the right bits. It shows a nice flash of the right, peachy bit of flesh, but it’s also loose enough to dance in, to run for the night bus in and eat some cheesy chips in.
Stage 2: 'I’m REAAAAADYYYYYYYY'
Well that was pretty painless! Jumpsuit on. Teeth brushed. Entire tube of mascara used. And an hour before you have to leave the house! You have all the time to do the things you never have time to do! Like drink that bottle of prosecco that was on offer. And chew some gum. And shave your legs with a cheerful bit of optimism, like a housewife giving her front lawn a quick once-over in hopes of a surprise visitor might drop by her house. This is nice. Some proper time to chill out before the big night. Why do you always make it so hard for yourself and leave everything to the last minute?! This is so much easier!
**Stage 3: 'I just think it’s a bit…I don’t know.... Amish' **
You go into your housemate’s room and languish on her bed, silently boasting that you’re already ready. 'Are you ALREADY READY?' she squawks. 'God that was QUICK'. You start having doubts – crippling doubts. Why are you already ready? Maybe you haven’t thought this through. Maybe this outfit isn’t right. You ask your housemate what she thinks of your outfit and she says she likes it. You walk backwards and forwards to the mirror a few times, doing a series of odd poses. You push your housemate again on whether she is sure the outfit is right – she says a loaded comment about how you should change if you don’t feel comfortable. You ask her what she means by this and, finally, she agrees with you that maybe it’s not right and also bungs in a strange observation that had never occurred to you, like it makes you look like an Al Jazeera presenter.
Stage 4: Your housemate insists on you wearing something awful
In an act of solidarity, your housemate goes all Gok Wan and decides to give you a deeply misjudged makeover. She insists on you trying on all her clothes you’d never buy, and while she’s excitedly yanking down horrid paisley print tops over your head, you realize there’s no polite way to get out of an accidental makeover. Not willing to admit defeat easily, she throws accessories at the problem, claiming the dress will look entirely different with a waist belt or a fascinator.
Stage 5: **You guzzle a weird liqueur **
You realize none of your housemate’s clothes fit over your head and while this would never normally bother you, is now making you feel terrible. You’ve drunk all the prosecco but remember a bottle of drambuie behind the baked beans.
**Stage 6: Back to the drawing board **
Time’s running out and you’re drunk. You go back to your wardrobe and sway in front of it before making a left-field choice. Pyjamas as clothes? That’s a thing isn’t it? Or maybe a bikini instead of a top, that might be sexy. Or what about that dress your gran gave you from the 1950s. Yes. You can be one of those vintage ladies! Wear some seamed stockings and the red lipstick and the… what’s it called? The silly hair things on the side of your head. Victory rolls. Yes, this won’t take long.
**Stage 7: A change of clothes and a change of transport **
Sweaty, breathless and still with nothing to wear, you shout at your housemate that you won’t have the time to get the bus, you’re going to have to get a taxi. You moodily bellow that you’ll pay for it.
**Stage 8: 'RIGHT THAT’S IT I’M NOT GOING OUT I’M THREE HUNDRED STONE AND ALL MY CLOTHES LOOK SHIT AND I HATE MY LIFE' **
Your house has been re-carpeted with clothes, you’re drunk, your entire wardrobe you bought with your own money doesn’t suit you and you’ve had enough of the night before it’s even begun. You walk into the living room and fling yourself on the sofa like a teenager and announce that you’re not going to go out.
Stage 9: The restorative fag
Your housemate gives you her last Camel and tells you you’ll be a goddess in whatever you wear. And who cares what you look like any way? You’re not going out to impress anyone, you’re going out to dance to Get Lucky until you pull a hamstring!
**Stage 10: The jumpsuit: REDUX! **
You reluctantly slip on your old trusty jumpsuit again and after a summit in the living room it is decided it’s not that Al Jazeer presenterish at all. In fact it’s quite lovely. OK. Alright. The night’s back on. Relieved and rejuvenated with rationality, you fling your keys in your bag, leave the house, close the door, and begin the Saturday night that will change your life. (Knowing that tomorrow you will scrub the burger sauce of your jumpsuit and stick it in the wash for next week, so you can start these 10 steps all over again).
Like this? Then you also might be interested in:
The 10 Best Things About Getting Ready To Go Out. And The 10 Worst
Getting Ready For A Monday Morning Meeting When You've Only Had Six Hours Sleep All Weekend
Follow Dolly on Twitter @dollyalderton
Picture: Ada Hamza
This article originally appeared on The Debrief.