It’s been so long since I’ve seen one that I almost forgot what a real formal night looks like. Looking around this evening you don’t see a single gentleman without a jacket and tie (bow-tie usually, this is a tux crowd) or a single woman that’s not done up in her best. And that includes the 90-something year old fire-cracker who’s got more shiptime logged than the captain and won’t hesitate to tell us so.
Their tastes are simple…they only want the best.
I fit in here. It never ceases to amaze me that I fit in here. Another little bit of sparkle in the flagship’s crown. But at the same time? It’s a show. All of it. For all of us. It’s an act. Yes, I love playing princess – and those of you who know me well, will know that that is a part of me. I love the temporary magic of transforming into Cinderella. My first formal night I wept to think that I actually got to “go to the ball”. But those of you who know me well also know that it’s far from all of me, know that I’m much more comfortable around a late night table, with ties loosened and wine poured, trading stories with my team/musicians/cast etc etc…
Magic takes work and energy. Formal nights are just like any other good party – the real party starts when the guests have all gone home and you kick off your high heeled shoes, break out the real glasses, and sit in jeans and t-shirts – hair and makeup still done but no longer cared about – with your feet tucked up under you and your friends around you.
And on that note, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for a movie night with the cast….