Captain’s Log: First Encounter with Mothership

That was the year I first met Mothership.

I gatecrashed her 18th birthday party and will never forget the torpedo dress she wore to celebrate – a hot pink, devilishly tight, torpedoed boobs, quim-skimming  number.  Eat your heart out, Jean-Paul Gaultier – Mothership got there first.  The original That Dress.

I say I gatecrashed but was actually invited by another gatecrasher, namely Kazhaz (referred to in the The Big Apple post as APF, the one with the Aunt Sally makeover) and I don’t think she had met Mothership before either.  I also remember that Kazhaz wore a sack that night.  For my own attire, I had borrowed some ripped jeans from her that were probably nicked from some ex-boyfriend.  They were eight sizes too big so were gathered tightly around my waist at a flatteringly high 80’s level with a thin belt.  Sounds attractive, no?  I wish I had a photo to show you.  I think I was also sporting a John McEnroe-style perm at the time. Even more enticing. Obviously another wardrobe crisis for me if I was borrowing from friends again.

I remember being highly impressed by two things that Mothership did that night:

Firstly,  she told me that her cat had died of Cat Aids, which I didn’t even know existed;

Secondly, and by far the more impressive of these two points as far as I was concerned, she offered to lend Kazhaz and me her car to take on our pending road trip north.  Wow.  That’s generous to a fault.

Anyway, I started this post the same night as The Big Apple, what with a whole trunk full of memories having been unlocked and hadn’t been back to it until I saw Mothership’s slightly petulant (in the nicest possible way, of course) comment.  How could I further delay?  But this will have to do for now.  It’s just a taster, a tease.  I don’t want to give it all away yet.  Just like the youthful Mothership of the 80’s, I hope to leave you with your appetite whetted.

Remember: less is more – just like the pink torpedo dress.