Thursday night however, I got to go to my first "party"/"club". I put the quotes because to me it just felt like a field trip at night to a dark building where people dance. I am what people call a late bloomer. In fact, I did my first load of laundry all by myself Friday afternoon. That's one small step for Lala, but a giant step for mankind. (Yeah, that's just how much I rule!) So Thursday afternoon, I completely forgot about this party because of my excitement of getting into the newspaper as an illustration/graphics intern. I was also busy trying to make myself sound like Mother Teresa for an application for some community service/women's leadership club. After I got back for classes which ended around 5, I said, "Oh shoot. What am I going to wear?" And like any true girly-girl, I just sat there watching my friends dress up and down (no, I am not perverted. god you have a sick mind). In a last minute decision, I picked my LALA top. I was about to wear my Lobster headband to match my shirt, but thought better of it. You really don't want to be the weird girl with the lobster on her head when going to a club.
Now, the best party of going to a party is dressing up and getting all glammed up. There are two paths people can take when getting dressed: the hot but oh so chic sophisticated route or the road to skank-ville. Fortunately, me and mis amigos were all dressed very fashion savvy. MWang's dress was super short but thankfully she wore a pair of leggings underneath and prevented herself from becoming the asian Britney. (hehe)
The three musketeers!! Eyes have been blacked out because they are wanted criminals. Mwang stole a bottle of ketchup and a cup from the dining halls..tsk tsk. And Bacne, well she's just Bacne, always doing terrible things.
I have just spent the last two hours creating a fashion guide for our wonderful skank-less outfits divided into three categories: Funky, Trendy and Classy.
- Blue: Cheap, easily affordable for a broke college student
- Yellow: Mid-ranged, hit's the guilty spot just a bit
- Pink: Splurge extravaganza! Hit's the guilt spot so much that it breaks apart and pus pours out. Gross I know, but that's reality.
Since I've only been to a "party" once, I can't say I'm an expert in club wear, but I like to think I know everything and preach about it. I understand that going to a club gives you the freedom to dress up or even "slut it up" a little, but to a certain degree you don't want to look like a around the corner prostitute. You don't want to cheapen your image by revealing all. Afterall isn't it better when we leave more to the imagination? *wink wink*
When wearing something more scantily clad, pair it with something a little more covered up. Wearing a low cut or flesh bearing top looks so much more sophisticated when pair with nice skinny jeans than say a micro-mini skirt. We saw some pretty skany girls that night - skanky to the point that one of the girl's boob was about to fall out. Now that's just my philosophy on party wear. If you choose not to follow, that's okay, just please please remember to wear your panties.
My commrades and I arrived at the place and everyone started dancing while I stood there like a giant vegetable (an aspargus of some sort). I felt like a baby octupus trying to travel it's way through a sand dune with dozens of scorpions watching. Weird? Yes. Awkward? Very. This vegetative state always seems to happen to me for every dance I go to. I get there. Get excited. Then I just stand there, feeling like a big ball of awkward. Perhaps I found the dance "moves" the kids today dance hilarious. Doing squat moves against a partner's crotch is quite amusing isn't it? Maybe it's just me. Perhaps then it is my fear of looking like a fool. I am confident in dressing like a fool, talking like a fool and even acting like a fool, but somehow dancing like a fool? just doesn't cut it.
Thankfully my friends guided me towards the path of enlightenment. Then, suddenly, as if a lightning bolt of ephiphany had struck me in my noggin. I looked around and realized that really, no one knew what they were doing. Just shake it and you'll make it. And even if I didn't "shake" it all too well, at least I looked fabulous.