Captain and I head to NYC for Valentine’s Day weekend. We have tickets for New York City Ballet’s Romeo and Juliet at Lincoln Center. As we walk across the plaza, people with professional looking cameras are everywhere. A guy snaps a photo of us. Another woman with a camera yells at us,
“Stay right there!” She starts snapping a bunch of photos.
I whisper to Captain,
“What’s going on?”
He asks the woman,
“What’s going on?
“It’s Fashion Week. Can I use your photo on my blog?”
And of course I forgot what blog she said and I can’t find it. But it’s proof that Captain’s ballet show attire is on point.
We have amazing front row seats and we can see the whole orchestra pit. As soon as the curtain lifts my eyes are glued on the dancers. At intermission I turn to Captain,
“What do you think?”
“Did you see the piano player? He’s really good.”
“Piano player?” I forgot that guy existed.
We go back to our hotel. We have a couple hours to kill until our dinner reservation. In our ballet attire: Captain’s suit and my pale pink sparkly dress with lace overlay and a satin sash, we head up to the hotel’s rooftop bar. It’s 6pm. It’s a club and it’s bumpin’. A DJ is blasting booty shaking music. A man in a full-length fur coat and fur hat walks past. Then a woman in leggings and a bra. I turn to Captain,
“Did you see that woman?”
He seems unfazed. I remind him,
“She’s only wearing a bra.”
“She wasn’t all that.”
More half-naked and fully-furred people come in.
A woman, spotting our non-booty shaking attire, leans in next to Captain and explains,
“It’s fashion week.”
And from what I’ve seen, that means wear your craziest outfit and if possible add some fur.
As we get up to leave and join the world where my dress came from a guy stops us,
“Where are the tall people hanging out tonight?”
I don’t know. Two tall people are hanging out in room 501, but it’s only 200 square feet.