I’ve been living in Melbourne for well over a decade now, but my boyfriend reckons I’m not quite a Melbournian yet. Apparently there’s a few criteria I have to meet: I have to finally to commit to an AFL team, I have to agree that they’re potato cakes not potato scallops, and I have to go to the races.
The Melbourne Cup hasn’t ever been particularly high on my to-do list – I’ve got conflicted feelings about the horses, and I’ve seen enough race-day footage on the news to know that the film Kenny wasn’t all fiction.
My Mum and my Stepdad are visiting Melbourne at the moment though, and going to the Melbourne Cup was on my Mum’s Bucket List, so we made a last-minute dash to Myer to procure headwear and joined the crowds thronging to Flemington for the “race that stops the nation”.
It was actually a really lovely day – we caught up with some friends, and my Mum managed to pick three winners, and a female jockey won the race for the first time in history, and no-one got into a punch-up.
I wore my remixed Chic Wish skirt with a sheer navy pussy-bow blouse from Dotti (who unbeknownst to me, have apparently started doing a size 16 in select items).
Poor Mum suffered through a good hour of me vacillating over hats, being alternately amused by the really OTT numbers and horrified by the price tags. I tried to walk the fine line between tacky/cheap and classy/expensive and managed to score this little number which fit the bill perfectly.
Mum borrowed my Igigi rose dress and looked so pretty in it (especially next to the famous Flemington roses) that I’m hoping she’ll let me steal a photo to share with you all. Stay tuned!