Friday, August 7, 2009
And I complain about having to put on pants...
Many people think that I am some crazy partyhound here in NYC. Out drinking and partying every night. Well, that's probably because I used to, and told you about it. Either way, believe it or not, there are a ton of parties I've never had a chance to make it out to.
One such party is called Drip. It's at the Grace Hotel. It's called Drip because it's a pool party. But this post isn't about the pool party. It's about the people who go to the pool party.
Let me be frank with you - I don't know what to call the boys and girls who do all of this exquisite dressing up. Are they Club Kids? Fashionistas? I mean, I don't even know if they have a name. It makes me think of Party Monster. I also am able to admit that for the longest time these types of fellas freaked me out.
Now, I am STILL freaked out... but for different reasons. Namely HOW MUCH TIME DO THEY SPEND BUYING, MAKING, AND PUTTING ON THESE OUTFITS? I mean WOW! I am both impressed and astonished by the costumes (or outfits) shown in these photos. I have so many questions:
1. Do they make them themselves? Or do they come in packages?
2. How many of them do they own? Is the dreadlocked leather predator guy like, his only costume? Or one of ten?
3. What in God's name do their closets look like?
As I said in my subject, I can barely be bothered to iron a shirt, put on a belt or, hell, even put on pants. And these folks slip into these extraordinary outfits. If I'm wearing a tight pair of pants, I suffer for the evening. But what is my suffering compared to someone wearing the equivalent of a rabid dog head cone and a suction-packed face mask?
So interesting. Maybe next time I'll talk to some of these guys.