I tell you, 100km per hour winds are the sworn enemy of the full-skirted dress.
I have a beautiful dress on today. It's a shirtwaist style, with a pointed collar, pin-puffed bracelet sleeves, button-down placket all the way to the hem, and a gathered skirt. The fabric is lilac and brown, and it's patterned with an intricate Turkish-style print of flowers, medallions, curlicues and diamonds. Picture a henna-ed hand, and you'd be pretty close.
So I'm there in the stream of people flooding towards the train station when all of a sudden there's a massive gust of wind that pushes my hair into my eyes and momentarily stops me in my tracks, before unexpectedly swirling around and behind me, causing me to have a Marilyn Monroe moment, except in this case I'm not smouldering with a laughing pout and heavy eyes, I'm frantically grabbing bunches of my dress in my hands to try and hold the damn thing down in an effort to stop the entire throng of commuters from being blinded by the sudden sight of my erm, voluptuous white derriere.
AND I have only got normal knickers on, nothing super-sexy that would somehow make an unexpected arse-flash somehow better (though only very, very marginally, I hasten to add).
Good god, I could have died.