Happy Monday!
(I know, I know, you might be in a different hemisphere. To be inclusive, happy whatever day it is for you.)
I woke up so late and groggy today.
I’m still recovering from a party I went to on Saturday night.
And, from the anticipation of the party.
It started at 10. 10! That’s when I like to get back from whatever Saturday night thing I did – which is always dinner, because that’s the only thing I ever want to do – and run to the closet to change into my sweats. Then, it’s bowl of ice cream and TV and Facebook. That’s what I want 10pm to look like.
When I’m invited to a party that starts at 10, it gets me into a “what do I wear to THAT?” meltdown.
And then I think I don’t have enough “going out” clothes. From magazines and J Crew emails, which come to my inbox every single f&$#* day but I don’t unsubscribe because I feel I’ll miss out on a deal on my favorite t-shirt or socks, I know that I’m supposed to have a sparkly top, holiday clutch, sleek cigarette pants or leather pants, and pumps.
Who are these people who can be going out in pumps in the winter, all exposed? I don’t like them at any time of year, because at that angle, my feet turn purple. Like, the color of foot that should have a toe tag on it. To paraphrase Valerie Cherish in The Comeback, which you should be watching, you don’t need to see that!
So forget the pumps, but I still end up in a retail spiral where I start shopping for the right pair of pants like they’re going to save the world.
I have so many attempts at “party pants” in my closet. You know, the faux-leather (leather being too hot and expensive) or waxed or shiny or velvety black numbers that dress up anything, even a tee, so you can look like you didn’t try too hard.
I found a pair I liked for this party, and they were totally unnecessary.
It’s not like it was a red carpet event. Or my event. No eyes were on me. There was no grand entrance down a staircase. I was sitting with a bunch of friends the whole time, some of us with our shoes off, legs folded indian style criss-cross applesauce up on the banquette.
And it was so much fun. The kind of fun that involves shouting, though.
Did you ever notice that after a few hours of shouting at a party, and then another hour up eating cereal and puttering around when you get home because you didn’t really have dinner and you’re not quite as ready for bed as you though you were, your voice gets a certain kind of hoarseness that turns into a chest cold?
Back in the early 90s, I went out every night like it was my job. And it was, because I didn’t have a real job.
No wonder. Going out is no joke.
Now you.
How do you handle parties?
Do you have the wardrobe and the energy?
TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS
This “i got nothing” post has resulted in a lot of laughing all by myself – the echoes in my living room accentuating how insane I would appear to a fly on the wall! Excellent.
Now that I live in Paris, I end up dressing like I’m going to a party all the time – because that’s how everyone else dresses. And I love it, because then I don’t have to go to parties to get dressed up. I did go to a party 2 weeks ago and it did take me at least 3 days to recover. Not yet sure if the fun was worth that!
I learn so much about the world from your posts and comments, Laura.
Now I know that I’m not the only one who can’t unsubscribe to stuff. But instead of magazines, for me it is info marketers. Now I get so many dang emails that I just scroll down and pick a few out every once in a while. I just can’t bear missing out on those $7 deals (ok, I haven’t bought one of those in a while, but hey, that’s almost free! Never mind that I always forget to use whatever I bought.)
And clothes shopping? We just had our annual family shopping spree at Old Navy – 50% off. Now I feel like a cool kid. When actually I’m just an old man trying to be hip to the scene. “Why would you want to wear that, Dad?”
It’s only our first annual spree because my wife said we can’t buy any more clothes the rest of the year (except I know she can’t pass up a deal. And there will be one, for sure.) And mostly because we spent 6 times more than I estimated (although she knew it would come out to that much.) My estimate was more like a hope.
Oh parties. Yeah, not so much. What would I tell my teenagers?
(Ok, I told them I was going out with friends.)
Thanks for making me laugh.
P.S. pretty hard at your domain name investigation.
Truth be told.
When I was in my 20’s, I would fix my hair in yellow hair curlers that I bought at Walmart for 1 hour and half. I picked out my black business pants, my short black shirt with spaghetti straps, and my high heels.
Yes, I behaved as a prowling princess back then and man, I could part-ay.
I drank from 9 p.m. to 3 a.m. in the morning. I even drank my friends under the table.
Might have flirted with some men. Ahem. I said some. Let’s leave it at that.
That’s a complete 360 in my late 30’s.
This is how I get ready for a visit which equates to a night on the town.
I’m an old soul fart so, ya, you won’t catch me in the bars or around drinking unless I’m paid to attend a staff party. I’ll more or less smile, nod, and chitchat. Feel so much like a dignified queen listening to her patrons. That’s how I feel.
Another scenario is I peek at my samsung phone for facebook media eye candy, get ready putting on a decent shirt that doesn’t make me like a teacher or “old fart soul.”
I’m prowling on cyberspace in a good way. Following great ladies such as yourself, Gina, Kimra Luna, and Marie Forleo.
I digress.
Going out is so not for me anymore.
That’s my grown up story.
Hugs, Trisha….:)
You went home at 3? Sissy. I used to stay out till 4. Or sunrise. And flirt with ALL the men, especially the dirtbags. And I was only drinking diet cokes!
I don’t know which you meant – old soul fart, or old fart soul, but I’m kinda loving old soul fart. Or just “soul fart.” Just checked for the domain. Not available, but go daddy suggests soulfartnewjersey.com for me. Can’t believe no one took that.
LMAO, Laura. Yup, I drank a lot. I danced on speakers, listened to cheesy lines (like you must be angel because heaven is missing one now, you have nice blue eyes (yup my eyes are hazel), or you like FINE) and managed to live through my party days.
Who hasn’t partied into the wee hours of the night?
love the old fart soul or old soul fart title and I wear it proudly around my aura.
Did you smell that?
You crack me up, Laura, with your witty vibes.
Cant’t wait to whip new titles with you again really soon!
Hugs, Trisha 🙂
Laughing out loud alone in my living room!!!
Laura, your cashmere brunch poncho reminded me of all the items I ordered from the J. Peterman catalog because well, who knows when I might be sipping cardamon tea on a chilly evening in Marrakesh. Or riding a camel through the Sahara with a mysterious Tuareg nomad..
Those are EXACTLY the kinds of staples you need! The perfect beaded linen tunic that goes from desert to disco. You so get it.
I went to a party last night. It was an hour drive away. We were planning to stay over because friends had rented a mansion for a retreat. Then we realized there wasn’t even anywhere to sleep but a couch. I love snuggling, but I love getting actual good sleep more, so we drove home at 4am.
Somehow with just 5 1/2 hours of sleep I don’t feel like shit.
Noticing I feel pressured to say something funny and like you, I got nothing. I just wanted to commiserate with you about parties.
That’s my NIGHTMARE. Crashing on a couch at a party. No thank you. If there’s not a bedroom with ensuite bath, I’m outtie.
Any comment of yours is a special birthday present, Dialto. This is a safe space for “I got nothing.” I want any comment you feel like leaving, funnies not required.
Know what else I want? Your superpower to sleep under 6 hours and not feel like shit. Use that for good, not evil.
I love the post and the comments. I am not much of a partier. I have to agree with Lane…Mr. Sony Brava is os much more accommodating.
As to clothes, well, I keep my clothes way too long. I mean inside lining shredding because it has not aged well. But I love the classic cut of the jacket, so it is hanging in my closet.
But when I had my website photo shoot with the wonderfully talented Christa Meola, I thought I had the wardrobe covered already in my closet. Upon closer look, I realized I best go shopping. Talk about snowballing into spend mode!
I am already stressing about Thanksgiving and traveling to visit friends, what to wear???? Then I dress up all elegant holiday, ridiculously high pumps, and everyone else is in jeans and warm sweater.
Like parties, I seem to like the idea of clothes more on the mannequin than in reality.
I’ve learned this lesson over time (but often ignored it): I’m always jealous of the person who came in jeans. And never jealous of the person who came in the fancy dress. That looks dirty and Clinton-Lewinsky-esque, but you know how I mean it.
For me, parties are good in theory, but then I never end up going. Probably because I don’t like them.
The call of my couch and Netflix, or what’s backed up on my DVR, always win over actually putting in the effort to go.
Thinking about it, it’s not the effort to go, it’s really the effort to have a good time once I’m there. I’m good with people, but truth be told, I don’t like a lot of them. Putting 10, 20, or more in a room where I’m supposed to hang out for 5+ hours, just doesn’t do it for me.
With my t.v., I can adjust the volume when it’s too loud and the content when I’m bored. Hard to beat that.
Really, what is more of a party than Netflix?
You know what’s my fantasy? A canceled party. I want to be invited, and then I want it not to happen, so I don’t have to miss anything.
it’s not the going out. It’s the hangovers, which have been getting progressively worse since I hit 30.
I don’t get those, because I’m too much of a lightweight to even drink enough for a hangover. I stop when it’s making me sloppy and tired, which = 2 glasses of wine.
I do have the wardrobe! Because I’m actually buying from several of those websites sending me 60 daily emails! Well, particularly one curated site that is my guilty pleasure — with different stylists making videos to push the goods. It lights up the same part of my brain as I think soap operas would – what will Kelly be wearing today?! I don’t think I would call it a *problem* yet, but it would be good if my ratio of purchases to invitations were skewed the other way. Got to go. Cashmere poncho calling my name.
OMG. “Cashmere poncho” sums up all my shopping problems. It’s exactly the kind of item I buy for a fantasy of a life I never live. It’s for brunch, and for carrying a handbag that actually goes on your hand rather than over your shoulder. Who has the wrist strength to deal with that kind of bag all day? And that has to be a little bag, which means it doesn’t accommodate a big ol’ cashmere poncho when you inevitably have to take it off because it’s too hot.
If I bought the poncho, I’d of course go looking for just the right handbag to go with it, which would trigger a need for shoes that go with the bag, and it’s just a landslide of needs set in motion by the one dumb purchase.