When I was invited to attend a Grammy viewing party sponsored by the Nashville chapter of The Recording Academy, how could I say no?
Like I’d ever say no to a party. In a bar. With cocktails. And food. And photo booths.
What does one wear when the invitation states, “dress to impress” as the advised attire?
Selfies helped narrow down the wardrobe before I was all set to make my appearance.
Upon arriving to the gala, I prepped myself to walk the extremely short, fairly stained, freshly vacuumed red carpet.
As no media was present, I shouted my own name acting as paparazzi while I traipsed down the crimson rug.
Meeting up with my posse, we beelined for the bar (Anyone surprised? Anyone?) prior to taking our seats.
Because I’m not a fan of standing for hours, I make a habit of arriving as soon as the doors of a venue open (completely being ‘uncool’ as all of the other Nashville hipsters arrive fashionably late).
I sat guzzling wine and flipping through the evening’s program, admiring my V.I.P. paper bracelet that so hideously clashed with my other accessories and watched all of the other somebodies arrive for the show.
Assessing Nashville’s interpretation of “dress to impress” footwear choices had me arriving at the conclusion that this city embellishes their feet for comfort. Classy comfort.
As the venue filled up, I was a happy camper conversing with old friends and enjoying fabulous new times.
I forced deep conversations with my trio of gents that probably made their ears want to start bleeding.
When they couldn’t take the fashion talk anymore, my buddies lured my vocal chords into remission by announcing the presence of a photo booth near the exit.
Let me touch up my lipstick…
And while we hoarded the booth (much to my insistence) for a quarter of an hour, we forever captured the essence of us being our best version of somebodies in snapshots.