Some people ask me how I manage to go to events and deal with my non-blogger life at the same time. Especially that I live one hour away from my university in Beirut (AUB) during traffic time—yes I drive—or 20minutes away by car when there’s no traffic.
The fact is, I’m always very well equipped—even for a normal day at AUB. Here are some things you could find inside my Fendi tote: Wet wipes, handkerchiefs, hand sanitizer, a nail kit including a nail file and a navy blue polish I guess, polish removable pads, Fucicort cream, prayer beads, my big Dior make up travel kit, an extra pen, my business cards most often than not, a colored lip balm, and, most certainly, a power bank that I never really recharge to use. As for the car, there is always a pair of heels in the trunk and a more extensive beauty kit on the including perfume and some weird stuff to have in a car that I’m going to keep for myself—if only you knew hahaha.
If I love one social activity the most, it’s got to be networking with people. I try to attend most events I am invited to unless it is irrelevant to my interests or it just not fitting in my schedule where university and studying must be the top priority. Two Saturdays ago—yes I haven’t been blogging much lately—I was attending a special styling session held at Massimo Dutti downtown. The event was curated by The Agenda Beirut, a lifestyle boutique academy, along with its associate lecturers Hadia Sinno, Mandy Merheb, and Bernard Jreissaiti whom are stylists and experts in the field of fashion.
That morning I had a workshop at AUB and I was planning to go back home and change my clothes after that I had to submit an assignment I was writing at Starbucks, in ain el mreisseh—a critique about Rawls and the economy of justice. Writing takes time so it took me a longer while than expected to finish off my homework. I was making some irrational and unfeasible time calculation that I could go back home, shower—what the hell was I thinking—dress up and drive back to Beirut to support the event.
Of course, I didn’t mention the shitty weather; it was raining like cats and dogs—lol it’s the first time I actually use this expression. I was shouting over the phone and my mom thought I was completely nuts to go back home. I drove out of the city’s downtown and it’s at that moment that I realize that if I wanted to attend the event I had to go dressed the way I was.
Luckily for me, I was wearing badges denim pants and I had unintentionally kept in my car a black see-through chemise that I bought a few days earlier—and I had a pair of heels in the trunk. I checked my purse to see whether I had the minimum makeup I needed to pep up my look.
I changed my shirt and I managed to make a simple wing eye liner in the dimmed lights of the parking from the ridiculous small mirror of the car. I kicked off my converse and opened the trunk to wear my beautiful pair of plexi heel. I made the first step. And that’s when I realized that the heel was broken. Under the heat of a locked trunk, the glue that had stuck together my plexi heel and the shoe had become vain. There was no way I was going to wear my converse, no way. I walked slowly from the parking until the shop—it took me about 10 slow and painful minutes. When I was walking, it seemed like I had a broken ankle or something. When I arrived at Massimo Dutti and came inside the store, there was a desk with a help and stairs that go upwards to access the shop. She saw the way I was walking and she asked me how she could help—she thought I had a broken ankle or something. I confessed in her what has happened to me and she advised me to get glue from TSC signature, a grocery store, 5 minutes away by walking with a broken heel—no way. I asked her if she had tape, maybe. She did not bother to look at first, and then when she believed that I was going to actually climb the stairs with a broken heel—thanks god no one was around at that time—she looked for tape in her drawers and found one. With the help of transparent tape, she wrapped up the heel with the shoe to put them back together. I put my shoes again and it was just perfect. The transparent tape did not even show above the plexi heel and the black patent leather pump.
I went up the stairs and enjoyed the event a lot. I watched the experts assist the clients with a styling session and we made jokes about my Cinderella heel case.
My phone battery was dead and the last time I spoke to mom, we were yelling “sympathetically” at one another—but I told her my plans of staying, fortunately. Probably she had called me back later and my line was unreachable. And most probably, she thought I was dead. With the way I drive and the shitty weather, I was definitely dead for her.
I was wearing pants from Zara, see-through blouse from GS, plexi heels from Marni x H&M, and Chloe bag.