I was dressed in a totally inappropriate shade of pink

I was dressed in a completely inappropriate shade of pink, cerise pink. I'd been told that it was a pink and black party- boys in black, girls in pink. I thought it was sexist anway, and was going to wear black as a feminist statement. Richard however was adament, and there I was, cerise flowing dress. It was quite pretty actually. I got to the party late, spent too long ringing a taxi, tempted to go back and change. But I was being brave. Brave in pink. I walked into the function, through the double doors to see a room full of black and white. Apparently the birthday girl (major prima donna, richard's friend; not mine) couldn't find a pink dress pretty enough, and had changed theme at the last minute. I stood out, and looked a little bit like a sore thumb. Richard spotted me in the monochrome sea, and I could hear his laugh before I could see his face. He'd forgot, apparently to tell me of this stupid change. He'd dressed in white like a second rate John Travolta. I grabbed my rose and threw it at him in one quick movement. I wasn't going to be the only one wearing pink.