High Tea

Today was a day of adult pleasures. And I don't mean XXX pleasures, I mean some friends and I went out to the Windsor Arms for high tea. It's not the sort of thing you do in your early twenties. Sundays then are for greasy breakfasts at dives to recover from the night before, where you'll recap your evening with hungover friends over a plate of bacon and hashbrowns. Been there, enjoyed it. But that era of my life, such as it was, is over like Grover.

It was really fun and charming, and I think we had some of the best conversation possible. How could you not while drinking pot of aromatic looseleaf tea in a delicate butterfly teacup? I gave myself a mini facial and then dressed for the occasion in a retro-inspired green dress and a delicate sequin-collared cardigan and the wrongest shoes I could have selected for a rainy day. I had a soaker in both shoes by the time I got there and my feet were going squish-squish.

There's no classy way to dry your feet in an expensive hotel lounge, so I had to go to the bathroom, remove my sopping shoes and dry them with paper towel. This is probably the third or fourth time I've worn these inappropriate shoes to the wrong place and suffered the consequences. I wore them on a walk through High Park and got them filthy. I wore them on an excursion in Mexico to Coba and climbed a monument and my arches ached. I wear them out in the rain and they always get waterlogged. I really don't know why I keep doing it.

But anyway, the tea, back to the tea. The tea was wonderful. The waiter brought out the layered tea trays with scones and treats and these cylindrical sandwiches that resembled sushi. The scones were what all scones should be. They melted. There was cream and jam. McPal's boyfriend said his grandma called the cream the food of the gods. I said if I were God, I'd eat that cream every day. There was whipped cream and strawberries. We were there for two and a half hours and I'm still actually full at 12:30 a.m.

I can't believe there was an era of time when people just did a tea every day. Perhaps it would lose its lustre if it was a mandatory daily thing, but I can't see how. What a sad thing more people don't have the time to sit down to some tea and treats and talk. The four of us were wishing we could always have high tea. McPal and his boyfriend wanted to throw a tea party. Hell, I want to throw a tea party.

I know this means I'm getting old. I don't even care. High tea and my friends makes me happy. Getting older and maturing means doing what you really want to do instead of what you think is cool. Speaking of which, we have a craft club coming up. I love being 28 and I love being a nerd. I also love that being 28 frees me of any self consciousness I ever had about embracing that.