TSDOAL2012OV – Purple and Red
For those of you who have read the previous post Black and White this might seem like I am about to tell you about a multicoloured zebra crossing, but fear not! This is just about clothes.
The uniform of the Olympic volunteers is a topic of much debate, as to whether we look like smart and unique representatives of our city or whether we went to Primark, chose the worst fitting items of clothing we could find and then got caught in an explosion at a paint factory. I would post a photo of what I look like in the uniform, but literally everyone knows what it looks like, either from being in London or seeing it on the TV, and I’m pretty sure it can be viewed from space for all the astronauts who haven’t tuned in.
However, some of you fashionistas out there are no doubt wondering about the finer details of the garb, and so its only appropriate that I fill you in.
The polo shirt
Made from thick nylon, this would be relatively inoffensive if someone hadnt sabotaged the design with horrendous red blotches under the armpits.
The trousers
These come in one size only and seem to be created from dead tents. I’m all for recycling but the fact that they are still the size of tents make for a frustrating billowing of material everywhere I go, and it’s a miracle they haven’t been caught in a bus door yet.
The jacket
This abhorrent piece of clothing is about 3x longer at the back than at the front, has random togs dangling off it where togs never should venture, a hood which would just about fit over a medium sized cooking apple and it’s made from material which sounds like a stampede of buffalo when we move, which would be fine if it was a stampede of buffalo imitator, but it’s not, it’s a jacket.
The hat
When I wear the hat I get treated as if I have learning difficulties.
The gear
This part isn’t so bad. We get a satchel, which in fairness is actually quite spacious and functional, with several pockets and TWO BOTTLE HOLDERS! Which would be useful if they didn’t insist on confiscating any liquids every time we walk into a different room. We also received a flask, a rather smart umbrella which I’m actually quite pleased with, and a bright red watch with a foam strap but with the fatal watch-faux-pas of having no numbers on it, which I assume was done purposely to serve as a great excuse for why the buses are always late.
The footwear
I say the footwear instead of just the shoes, because it isn’t just shoes. Unbeknownst to you, dear readers, we also have…OFFICIAL SOCKS. I told you these diaries revealed all. Yes, underneath our cavernous legwear and inside our overly grippy shoes are specially designed grey things with a small white adidas logo on them. Why the only relatively normal looking part of the uniform is the only part that nobody sees is beyond me, but we have to wear them nonetheless.
And that is the uniform, worn with embarassment pride by all but heavily, heavily policed by team leaders. In this clashing mess of colours, styles and materials, we embody London, and we must all conform.
But rest assured dear readers, I intend to fight the establishment: one day next week, I will stand up for the little guy, take back our city, stick it to the man: I’M GOING TO WEAR MY OWN SOCKS.