Sometimes I Feel Like a Nut

Last night I went out to see Paula West at the Rrazz Room in San Francisco. I'm going to write a review, but to prime the pump I thought I'd share something more important first: what I wore. Now, I haven't gone clothes shopping for 6 months (I'm not much of a shopper anyway), but in the past year or so I have gotten some nice pieces at great deals, and my closet is full of interesting things from my teen years, my grandma, and hats my husband has given me.

So I wore a cobalt blue trench coat (I love that lots of fabrics are in that color now, because it is my favorite -- I now have three cobalt blue dresses, one cobalt blue trench coat and one pair of amazing teal-and-cobalt blue heels) over a colorful teal/green/white graphic print dress I got at Mervyn's (RIP), black stockings and my awesome black stretchy stilletto lace-up boots. I carried my red patent-rubber tote and to top it off I wore my sort of bulbous Russian black wool cap that Emilio gave me years ago. Now, I had to wear the hat because my hair was damp from the shower and also because I haven't gotten a haircut in seven months.

I checked myself out at home and thought I looked pretty good -- rather Sex in the City, though not quite as adventurous as Carrie. I love bright colors, and I had that going on. But when I got to the club and checked myself out in the bathroom mirror I looked old and forgetful. Or desperate. Or like I might have a posse of cats waiting up for me back home. But hey, I still had to work it! So while my expression and tone may have said "successful singer out on the town" my self-image was "crazy hat lady."

Ah well. What are you gonna do?