I am a sum total of the phases I go through

The past week was spent in a petrol-consuming daze of red wine and pasta, couch-hopping from one friend's house/flat to the other. I was spoilt enough to make me not want to go home (?), but I had other people in other towns/cities to see, so I filled up my tank with unleaded and moved on.
Also, I was in dire need of some fresh clothes, and was itching to check my mails. My packing skills have always let me down, and I spent a week in Pretoria with 3 pairs of pants, 2 shirts, and 8 pairs of socks.

Friday evening we decided to go against the grain, and payed a visit to the local alternative club in Pretoria central. Zeplins is located right next to the biggest Adult World that the city has to offer, giving it a slightly more dodgy feel than it perfectly well managed to exude on its own. We spotted a dog unit police car in front of the club, but our mild paranoia never realised, and we figured that they were probably busting the porn shop, or perhaps stocking up on handcuffs. (Or selling theirs, you never know.)
A long time ago, in a previous life, I used to frequent clubs that were even more alternative and more dodgy than the aforementioned Zeplins. Clubs where the only lighting was fluorescent, and people danced as if they were just resurrected from a miserable death. My mother always left me to go through my many phases, so when I told her the one day that I wanted a full-lenght body-hugging halter-neck black pvc dress, she said:

"Let's go buy material"

and she made one for me.

On Friday I donned it for the last time, danced for hours, inhaled yellow smoke from smoke machines, smelled my retinas burn in the persistence of the fluorescent tubes, and realised that I'll never wear it again.
It is being passed on to my dearest Tish. Use it well.