The Willow Ball!

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Tomorrow night, this farm chick will giddily galavant to a ball! Our favorite blog sophisticate, Willow of Life at Willow Manor, is throwing a sparkling and extravagant party, the third Willow Ball, and this is the first time I am going. It is a blog event so massive that everyone is invited. To participate, all you have to do is "shop" for your attire, your escort, and any other accourtrements you please on the Internet (or from your own archives, if you are so fortunate), and post them as images at your blog, like I'm doing today. (We hope the original sites for what we borrow won't mind. I'm giving credit for my sources at the bottom of this post.)

I'm asking Willow, Fred and Ginger to bend their ball rules the way they bend their bodies dancing. Here at my place I am morphing the event into a Regency Willow Ball, because, well, I can, and because I have sat waiting to dance at a Jane Austen ball long enough. There are never enough partners . . . or balls for that matter!

I shopped and shopped until my fingers dropped, and I found just what I wanted to wear, how I want to get there, and who will escort me.

If you didn't find out in time to post this event on your blog, you can still party all night long at Willow's Manor and at all the other Willow Ball blogs that are linked there (Willow will have a Mr. Linky widget with participating blogs starting at midnight tonight). Just hop in the coach and click, tap and waltz your way around the floors of the world. Ahh, music, ahh, candlelight, ahh, romance.

Before departing the farm tomorrow,
here is what I'll be wearing.

One must have the proper undergarments, mustn't one?

Don't you think the hairstyle I've asked André

to coif is dressy, without being stiff? No hairspray pour moi.

When you see my dress, you'll understand why my favorite gems, garnets, are the necklace I must wear. Besides, they match my copy of P & P.

I decided against heels, since I'll be dancing through the night,
although maybe uncomfortable shoes would help me stay awake.
Not that these toes look comfortable,
but they're the fashion, what can I do?

I must have a fan to yawn behind,
and I need a handkerchief after certain, ahem, wild dances
when I'll be sweating glowing.
This warm glow will bring out the subtle
scent of lavender oil I've dabbed on my neck, temples and wrists.
(Chanel No. 5 hasn't been blended yet.)
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Here is my silk gown. I'm going to hold it just like this, 

while I twirl and swirl and stub my tiny pointed toes
(and bruise and puncture my poor dance partners). 

I trust my neck will not look as thick as hers,
although it would be harder to break.

Since Willow lives just one state away from me, 

my escort and I really could ride in this cozy coach the whole way.
So romantic, all enclosed, and someone else
to pay attention to the road.

As for my escort, sadly, my husband Don made a commitment for this night (cleaning the chicken coop and his nails afterward). I did get some enchanting offers from dear friends (who had better not forget their promises to dance the night away with me if my escort will permit me to leave his side - forget what I said about punctures and bruises) but they were after my dear, dear friend Elizabeth Bennet-Darcy had already pitied me and charitably offered her husband. Hmph! said I in my head. Second-hand goods, and not directly from the man himself! I considered her offer long and hard over tea and crumpets. I ate a whole package of crumpets! Finally, I sent a note with my carrier chicken to Eliza's dearest Fitzwilliam, sidestepping my dear friend, because I don't want any of those horrid misunderstandings that our friend Emma Woodhouse got into as a result of second-hand news. As I say, I sent this note to Fitzwilliam:  

Colin Firth, as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy in BBC's Pride & Prejudice,

giving Elizabeth The Look

Update: Fitzwilliam Darcy has agreed to my terms, 

and his note also said that we won't be riding in any 

puny little one horse buggy. 

He'll be coming 'round with his coach and four.
Willow, don't worry about the horse puckey!
Fitzwilliam's man will take care of it.

I look forward to seeing you, my dear blog friends, here, at Willow's and all around the world as we turn, spin and swoosh, and drink toasts to each other and our splendid hostess all night long. I have several of you penciled in on my ballspenden and can hardly wait to dance with you. There's still room on it, so don't be shy, gentlemen. And ladies, Mr. Darcy assured me that Eliza has rid him of his infernal pride, and he will dance with as many of you who desire it. Will the night be long enough? Cheers!

Image sources:

The ball

The garnet necklace

The Regency undergarments

The hair

The shoes

The fan
The handkerchief 
The perfume bottle

The ball gown

The little coach

The look

The big coach

The wallpaper designs