Dear catastrophe waitress

I was at work today. I waitress every Saturday at an italian restaurant. I am actually italian, so it feels quite good to be around people that my grandparents were friends with. 

There is something quite glamourous about waitresses. I mean, in music, waitresses are hyped about for some reason, but in reality all waitressing does is smudge your eyeliner (I think I just need to invest in some new eyeliner- see yesterdays post) and make your hair smell like pizza. I say music glamourises waitressing, I’m not entirely sure whether it really does- I just really adore belle and sebastian and after reading the Celestial Café, Stuart seems pretty hyped up about the idea of shitty, broken waitresses.

It has helped me to talk to people though, as essentially thats what I get paid for, that, and sprinkling parmesan over carbonaras. I get loads of ideas from the people I meet for characters which helps me write journal entries or short stories (some of which I might post if you behave)

Fashionably, my job isn’t couture-like. In fact, it’s similar to schoolwear, apart from I get to wear a skirt that makes my ass look real good. I can’t even paint my nails, which I can for school. Well, I’m not allowed technically- but schools only really fun if you break the rules loads

If I were to post an outfit for what I think of when I think of waitressing, no pretense allowed (i.e no geek glasses, pleated skirts etc) here it is:


Bit bland isn’t it. Its smart, I suppose- and unfortunately a small Italian restaurant in an unimportant city in England isn’t exactly New York Fashion Week. There is something quite nice about a dress code, though- if I went to work dressing as I pleased- I’d probably get fired for being insane

At work today, I watched a man on the table outside drinking a morning coffee as the sun rose up. The decor of the place is supposed to look authentically Italian, and in some ways I suppose it is, EVERYTHING i’ve ever prepared, cleaned, or polished says Made in Italy on it. Seeing the lone man drink his coffee made me think of the Style Councils ‘Cafe Bleu’ album. I don’t even know much about this album, what the critics thought of it, whether it’s considered Good Paul or Bad Weller, but I love this. My dad has it on vinyl and I discovered it. Properly atmospheric cafe music

I’m a little sleepy, and I’m gonna go curl up and watch the Virgin Suicides. I’ve never seen it, and I hope it’s good. If it’s bad then I’ll fall asleep, and that will be good too. So no time wasted here.

The cafe in Amelie looks similar to where I work, which is a perk, a perk I can’t tell my colleagues because they’ll think I’m much too bookish~~




Remember to tip. GB x


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