It’s that time of year. Time for Brides and Grooms-to-be, all over the country, to look deeply into each others’ eyes, clasp hands and jump off the Wedding Merry-Go-Round.
Run, little love-birds, run! Before someone convinces you that “everyone” loves the Chicken Dance. Run! Before the DJ cues the song “The Stripper” and makes the Groom grope around for a pointless garter belt, right in front of Grandma. Run! Before the Bride starts whispering the name “Vera Wang” in her sleep.
The tourist was sure of it. “That’s definitely got to be somebody!” she said on tip toes, neck craned to spy on Madeleine Albright, who was getting out of a car and looking very classy in a copper sequined dress. We weren’t so sure, however, about the other elegant characters that paraded into the Hilton on Connecticut Ave., for last month’s Whitehouse Correspondents’ Association dinner. Our little group of gawkers had staked out the side entrance to pick out the Somebodies from the Nobodies. Everyone looked lovely in tuxedos and taffeta, but once in a while someone looked extraordinary. Even extraterrestrial.
Would the baby blue tuxedo with the ruffle shirt please die already?
No, apparently. Neither will the Gunne-Sax dresses of the 70’s, the crinoline monoliths of the 50s or shoulder pads of the 80s. Not in Takoma Park, where these and other ghosts of Proms Past live on.
If you live in the Washington DC area and are even the tiniest bit interested in fashion, you have to resign yourself to the idea that nothing new, strange or outlandish is ever going to happen here. Ever.
In a consumerist society, shopping can become a religion. Takoma Park, despite our city-sanctioned disdain for chain stores and strip malls, is not immune. You may not realize it, but many of your neighbors pray at the altar of Value Village.
June 2008
The DIY Bride
It’s that time of year. Time for Brides and Grooms-to-be, all over the country, to look deeply into each others’ eyes, clasp hands and jump off the Wedding Merry-Go-Round.
Run, little love-birds, run! Before someone convinces you that “everyone” loves the Chicken Dance. Run! Before the DJ cues the song “The Stripper” and makes the Groom grope around for a pointless garter belt, right in front of Grandma. Run! Before the Bride starts whispering the name “Vera Wang” in her sleep.
Read more...
May 2008
Definitely Somebody
The tourist was sure of it. “That’s definitely got to be somebody!” she said on tip toes, neck craned to spy on Madeleine Albright, who was getting out of a car and looking very classy in a copper sequined dress. We weren’t so sure, however, about the other elegant characters that paraded into the Hilton on Connecticut Ave., for last month’s Whitehouse Correspondents’ Association dinner. Our little group of gawkers had staked out the side entrance to pick out the Somebodies from the Nobodies. Everyone looked lovely in tuxedos and taffeta, but once in a while someone looked extraordinary. Even extraterrestrial.
Read more...