I Know Why the Caged Bird Sleeps
Oh right. Everyone went to a party Monday night.
Mine was thrown by Aubrey and Mitch, who have a history of throwing great parties on New Year’s Eve. This year the theme was “The After-Party” and guests were encouraged to dress like they were already on the road to a hangover as opposed to full-on party-mode.
Women wore cocktail dresses and nice hairdos, but paired them with flip-flops for a more casual, end-of-the-evening look. This was our pretty hostess, Aubrey.
I went with the most literal interpretation for my own after-party style, and wore my yoga pants and what I like to call my “sleepytime shirt”. It’s one of the least flattering and most obnoxious articles of clothing I own. I scored it off a cigar peddler in Aruba. Paired with a pink tiara, it’s actually quite a fetching look.
The truth is, by the time the after-party rolls around, I usually have pillow creases across my face. I am no party girl, and I never have been. I barely drink, I prefer the dawn to the dusk, and I’d rather wake up at four am to study than stay up till four cramming. If this had been a slumber party, surely I would have had my bra frozen.