The Rubbish Day Liza Minnelli nearly broke my spirit

For those who are new to this, I dress up for rubbish day. This week, by the special request of a lovely friend, I present Liza Minnelli in Cabaret. Sadly and for reasons I cannot understand, my charming husband did not want to put on a pair of short leather shorts to join me as Emcee.

I’m not entirely sure that I nailed Liza but I hit hooker and drag queen on the head. I knocked those two right out of the park! It was, to say the very least about the whole underwear in the street debacle, a little stressful. There were plenty laughs though albeit of the nervous giggle variety.


Ta da! My jazz hands froze with the anxiety, I’m afraid.


Imagine the bin is the chair, if you will.


There was some traffic on the street but thankfully today the neighbours hid themselves particularly well.


Today should have carried a PG rating. My nerves! They are finished. Happy Wednesday everybody.


About tracyloveshistory

I have an inordinate fondness for a long time ago. I write about history and my family's place in it; clothes, shoes, war, memory, loss and whatever else takes my fancy. I wear red lipstick every second day and I dress up. A lot. Photograph by the extraordinary Ben Skinner at Arwen Garnentry.

6 responses to “The Rubbish Day Liza Minnelli nearly broke my spirit

  1. I think this is my new favourite blog in the world ever. You nailed Liza completely, although I don’t remember her looking as nervous as you. And what exactly was your husband’s reservation? I don’t understand…

    • Why thank you; thank you kindly. The extremely stressed face was the moment when two cars were coming down the road at absolute snail’s pace. Almost simultaneously, the weed whacker from the garden next door went ominously quiet. I, having been on the street corner in a garter belt, now actually understand dear husband’s reservations entirely πŸ˜€

  2. BWAAAAHHHHHHH! Best yet. In fact, I just fell off my chair and broke my jazz hands. Imagine me now trying to express shock a la Marcel Marceau. Mon Dieu! How it hurts!

  3. I think your husband is a spoil sport! Loved the costume and I bet the neighbours were looking from behind their curtains. πŸ™‚

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