Fancy times

Snow, reindeer, hot chocolate at the fireplace – or glitter, glamour and dancing: Christmas has different faces. And now that it’s mid-December, it’s showing of its glamorous one. Party Food season has started!

Sorry it's blurry

Sorry it’s blurry

It’s not the first time I spend December away from home, but it IS the first time I have a proper job, meaning it was the first time I got to go to an office Christmas party. When I first heard about it, I had no idea what to expect, and the thought of a party (ugh – it’s not that I hate parties, I’m just never motivated to go) with my boss (uaaah?) didn’t sound fun at all. But there was going to be food, so I was in.

Warning: this is about clothes – skip if you’re a nudist

On second thought, there was one more good thing about the party: I had the chance to dress up! (And an excuse to buy new clothes.) Since I had no idea just how much dressing up was required, I decided to buy a pretty top I could wear with jeans to the office, and to change into my black skirt for the party if I felt like I needed more glamour. So for once I went to Sliema for shopping, not for the internet, together with a friend and came back with an amazing red blouse from Zara, which suited my evil dressing plan.

So on Friday, after unleashing all my secret make up artist skills, I packed my heels, skirt and small party handbag and went to work feeling really excited and happy after all. In the evening, the ladies bathroom was busy with all of us girls changing or putting on make up (and sometimes even peeing) before we were brought to the party straight from work in two big buses.

Get this party started

The actual event took place on the 9th floor of the Palace Hotel in Sliema, which is a five star hotel. That means: a huge terrace with a beautiful view of Sliema and Valetta, two open bars, a cold buffet, waiters walking around with plates full of various finger food all evening, a DJ, a smoke machine and a guarded wardrobe – REALLY fancy, right?

The whole evening/night was spent eating, dancing and talking gossiping, mainly about who was apparently hitting it off with whom. And of course it wouldn’t have been a party had there not been the inevitable: a clogged toilet (the ladies’ as always), a friend half killed by her shoes and one girl who had a bit too much to drink. But aren’t those little incidents what turn a nice evening into a great night to remember?

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