Crash-Test Dummy

Among other things (blackboots,ceramic hairstraighteners, bowl, plate, magazines. Ahem) I bought on Saturday, I invested in a pair of rococo style tights from an elegant shop I had until then not set foot into: Fogal on Kohlmarkt. I'd spied the pair in the shop-window weeks ago but immediately dismissed the idea of buying them as € 25 is way too extravagant an expenditure for a product which in my case is "single-use" all too often. When I strolled past the shop on Sat. my bargain-radar picked up sales vibes and saw a € 7,90 sign next to them. Wo-hey! After some deliberation whether the only remaining size (S) would fit me since I was a good 10 centimetres taller and 5 kilos heavier than the ideal S-wearer of their size chart, I bought them and carefully shoehorned myself into them this morning (they're actually neither too short, nor too tight, for the record).

9:35 - Löwelstraße in Vienna's first district. Yours truly is about to take a right into Teinfaltstraße. A solitary policeman is looking into the book shop next to the socialist party's HQ, with not a single protester in sight. As I walk by, he averts his gaze from the window and smiles at me. Being a polite individual who doesn't bear any grudge against the police in general, I smile back aaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAND WHOMP, land at his feet.

Embarrassed but unhurt, I almost jumped to my feet and joined the man in green for a bit of CSI. No banana skins in sight and mercifully no dog turds either. What had apparently triggered my matutinal stunt were droplets of wax, left-overs from last weeks' vigils by disgruntled students.

I am proud to report that it obviously pays off to invest in a pair of upmarket tights. No holes, no ladders or anything in spite of the fact that I pretty much did the splits on the pavement.

Call me the Fall Gal.