I was invited to a swank do at a museum of modern art this past weekend, for the birthday of a cat-sitting client.
I hardly ever go to events that require nice clothes--especially since Covid--and I don't own clothes I haven't worn to the thrift store many, many times. Working at a thrift store, I could easily buy clothes without rips and stains, but I hate shopping for them.
Luckily, the day before the party I found a pencil skirt I genuinely like, originally from Talbots (79).
Our price, 4. It seemed unworn.
Not fashionable, no. But...
I carried a bag that had been Auntie Vi's, and it turned out that its mustard and slate colors are in. (Vi liked fresh fashions. I wish I could send this photo to her. But she's still dead! I hate that.)
I'd chosen well too though, with my sky blue eyeglasses. And my cloud-colored hair!
As I'd expected, I didn't know anyone at the party aside from my cat contacts. I went up to a young couple whose drinks were garnished with orange slices, maraschino cherries, and wedges of lime, and asked them what they'd ordered to get all that fruit.
"Fake drinks," they said. "It's fruit juice."
I was drinking Chardonnay. They don't give you fruit with that.
It was an open bar, and there were lots and lots of nice things to eat too. I'd foolishly eaten beforehand--a big bowl of Cheerios with banana. [eye roll]
The couple was friendly, and we chatted for quite a while. Both were percussionists who taught marching band part-time, and it turned out that, like me, they'd both studied Classics.
We talked about how drums were the first instruments, you can tap a rhythm on anything, and how marching bands could exist after an apocalypse even if the brass instruments melted down because drums and pipes are easy to make from natural materials--including your body.
It was fun talking to them--so different from my coworkes. It was like playing an unexpected game of badminton after being used to tackle football.
