About a month ago, before I knew I was going to this party tonight, I was out thrift store shopping.
I found a black velvet dress, vintage style, homesewn, with little square black buttons each with a little rhinestone in one corner. 3/4 sleeves, fitted bodice, flared tea length skirt. The neckline is very modest and one day I will remodel it but I haven’t had time. I see a fold back collar with little cuffs on the sleeves in a white and silver brocaded satin. $10.
It is just darling and perfect for this crowd. With my platform maryjanes and my rock crystal choker, I think this is going to be cute.
Finally, all dressed up with somewhere to go. And no. The suspected chicken man hates new years, he won’t be there. Called it The Night of Great Expectations That Don’t Happen. It’s also what we sober folks call “amateur night” where people who don’t know how to drink get just stupid and cause all kinds of mayhem. I totally agree. Usually I spend New Year’s Eve with my sponsor and that crowd, blowing shit up and this year they’re having a bigger party than usual. I was invited. BUT
I had already purchased tickets to Party Like It’s 1979. Which holds me to my vow of trying to get out and do other things. Perhaps the other suspected chicken men will be there. *laugh*
An aside to those who think I’m a bit man obsessed. Perhaps I am. But I was celibate and single for 8 years and I’m ready for a partnership. I am actively looking. It’s not always like this. I’m 50. Life is short. Get over it. 😉
One of the reasons for this party is that a friend of mine, an old flame/friend, is here for the holidays and this is a reunion with his bands and some others from that time. How can I not go hang with these folks when this photo is part of my memories. He is not a suspect chicken man, just a good friend. But boy, back then? Oi.