day two hundred thirty-eight.

Day Two Hundred Thirty-eight 4/23/10
Dress:  Green Plaid Vintage Dress

Purchased From: Sazz Vintage
Year or Era Purchased: Spring 2010
Price: $10
Accessories:   day: black flats night: fishnets, black sneaker boots
Hair and Makeup:  day: washed and dried naturally, only face makeup night: curled with hot rollers, bangs pinned back, usual makeup plus red lips
Comments/Compliments/Complaints: A client/woman who used to sell vintage said I looked nice.  She's wicked gorgeous and stylish so that meant a lot, another person said I looked "quaint". 




The Story of Feeling Sixteen Again: 


I'm not wearing any shoes in these photos because Michael tung oiled our floor and you're not supposed to walk on it in shoes until it cures, at least seven days later.  Also this dress photographs like shit.  It's super cute and flattering in real life, or at least the way I see myself in the mirror, but when I photograph it I think it makes me look large but not really in charge.  Oh bother.  When I bought this at one of the Sazz Vintage Warehouse sales I told Jody it made me feel like I could kick ass in it.  It's the only polyester and  stretchy dress I've ever owned, good combo.  It also has pockets so that's rad.  I specifically chose to throw on some fishnets and high/high top black sneakers to go the show as it cooled off a bit and I learned my lesson when I forgot the vital show wardrobe rules and almost lost my cute little sneaker flat at Bouncing Souls last August.  There are three rules I like to go by when dressing for shows if I intend to be anywhere near the center of the floor and I wish more people would follow them: 


1. Always wear shoes that tie, zip, buckle, velcro, etc.  No slip-ons, flip-flops, etc.  People step all over your feet and it's way less pleasant if you are missing part or all of your protection on your precious toes.  Plus once at an 80's night dance party I was hit in the head with a shoe when  a girl was doing high kicks.  I can deal with fancier shoes at dance events and just chalk that one up to it happens.  I feel like we all have a story of  a friend who lost either their glasses or a shoe at a show.   


2.  If you have long hair please either wear it up or bring something to pin it up with.  Seriously, your hair all up in my face is gross and hot and annoying and I'm sure mine is too. 


3. No spikes.  Screw you and your fashion statement.  It's too damn hot for a leather jacket anyway asshole.  I once bit a guy at a show for poking me too many times with his stupid jacket spikes.  True story. 


Ok, let's make it four...
4. No giant messenger bags or book bags.  Seriously?  Stop being a hoarder and leave it at home, or at least coat check that shit.  


Friday was a good day, despite the fact that only one of my clients paid me.  I won't spend time bitching about that as I think the annoyance of the situation is pretty self-explanatory.  It was a usual day in that I worked and then came home but then it became an awesome day when Michael and walked to the train to go the Troc for Screeching Weasel.   The only reason we got to go was because Michael spent way too much money buying tickets on stubhub since the show sold out in something like nine minutes and they were only playing one show on the East coast.  I think it was a big bunch of crap and I hate the way tickets are sold these days and then resold for way more money.  Dumb.  Still, I was super psyched and only felt slightly guilty to go to the show.  Okay, I didn't really feel guilty at all, except that Michael spent too much money and if you read this blog you know I like a good deal.   So we arrived in time to see some of the opening and all of the second band, both were meh.  Not good, not bad.  We stood next to a large group of Italian speaking rockabilly types, something that confused me a bit but was all sorted out later when they were mentioned as a band (The Manges) playing with the Riverdales the next day.   They turned out to be the nicest people to stand next to at a show.  For about an hour while Screeching Weasel played I felt totally one hundred percent sixteen again. It was super fun.   The sound was amazing, the energy even better.  The one thing I had a huge problem with was when Ben Weasel stated they were about halfway through the show when not enough time had passed.   


I ended up not worrying about my wardrobe rules as Michael and I had a perfect spot downstairs (half was 21+ with a bar) next to a pillar for maximum leaning and viewing and the nice Italians in front of us were short enough/leaning on a table in the perfect way not to block any views.  My back didn't hurt, my knees felt just fine despite standing for two and half bands.  I mean I really felt sixteen when going to a show was nothing and I promised myself I'd never become old and stop going to shows.  Nowadays halfway through a band I'm secretly praying for release as my knees and back fill with pain and little trickles of sweat form at the base of my back.  But not this time.  This time I was just fully involved in being happy and the music flooded the memories into my brain and onto my lips, forcing me to bare teeth.  So you can imagine just how sharp the tack was that burst my bubble when Ben Weasel promised there would be no encore, played another half an hour and left the stage.  After seventeen years and one show on the East coast an hour was all we got.   I was thrilled that my ears bore witness to the songs "My Right", "99" and "Hey Suburbia."  I was less than thrilled that I didn't experience more, a sentiment I seemed to share with everyone else there as people milled around, got more beers and chanted for an encore that would never come.  So sad.   After the show I saw my friend Molly and her friend Kell(y,ie,ey?) and we all bitched about the short set.  I suppose it takes a bit out of you to play an hour of punk rock songs with full energy and not just phone it in but the songs are rarely longer than two minutes and a few more would not have killed these fine gentleman.  I was happy with what I got but wanted more.  I guess you can't win with shows, but I can bitch about it anyway and that's the beauty of a blog.   I bought a t-shirt that I plan to turn into a dress. I'm pretty excited for that one. 


Michael and I hopped on the El and headed to Johnny Brenda's for a bathroom stop and a nightcap before heading home to listen to records and eat eggs and toast in bed while continuing our night's theme by watching SLC Punk.  That movie was so close the borderline of cornballs covered in cheese sauce but it really walked the line right into my heart.  


The End. 


Oh and I forgot.  On the way home Michael finally gave in and I'm allowed to get a third cat.  I have to complete a list of goals/tasks first.  I'm super excited!!!