Sometimes you just need to shake it up. Lately I’ve been feeling like Mr. Roboto, doing the same things every weekend. And you know what? Life is too short for Mr. Roboto nonsense. So this weekend is when I say, “ENOUGH!” and do something I’ve always wanted to do since I was a little girl … and that is attend high tea.
Perhaps it is my recent obsession with the show Ladies of London, or with my admiration for British culture in itself, but high tea has always been on my to-do list. Since I was little I’ve had a fascination with teatime, pretending with my plastic tea cup set, and throwing fits when I didn’t get the matching teacups in the Match Game. And I’m pretty sure I will be that old lady with the millions of china closets lining my house filled with precious tea cups, and if anyone tries to touch one I will most likely throw one of my cats at them.
The thing is, what does one wear to high tea? I have this vision of a fantastic white dress with lace white gloves and maybe a hat. But Jesus, we aren’t in foggy London town back in the early 19th century, for crying out loud. This is 2014, in Philadelphia, in the summer heat. Even though I won’t be having tea with the queen or any dignitaries (not that I’m calling my friends slobs, lahve ya!), I still feel like one needs to pay homage to the tradition by not dressing like a slob OR a hipster.
Jeans are definitely a no no, and anything plaid probably isn’t the greatest of ideas. I do have this vision of wearing all white, pinkies up and such, graciously pouring my tea into my lovely tea cup, and then accidentally pouring the hot tea on my lap, which will lead me to leap up like a psycho, knocking over the fine china, cursing like a sailor, and leaving stained and probably wearing a badge the owner of the tearoom gives me that says “unfit.”
Listen I believe I’m the Eliza Doolittle of the tea scene, but before the professor shoved marbles in her mouth to make her speak properly. “THE RAAAIN IN SPAAAIN FULLS MAIIINLY ON THE PLLLAAAINEE.” Yep. That’s me. Regardless of my klutz tenancies, and the fact that I’m a magnet for stains and awkward situations, I’m truly looking forward to drink real tea with real people and eat real scones instead of drinking water with my stuffed animals and eating Wonder bread.