When I was growing up, I hated New Year's Eve. It was an interminable evening of sitting around with my relatives watching TV and waiting for the ball to drop in Times Square. And desperately wishing that I could be at a party,
any party. (This is a picture from the New York Times in 1907, but I didn't actually grow up in 1907. It just feels like it.)
The first New Year's Eve party I ever went to was in a trailer in the mountains of West Virginia. It was hosted by a music professor and packed with college students and crazy musicians. There must have been twenty fiddlers and at least as many guitarists playing wild, endless reels as everyone drank and danced into the night. It was the first time I had fun on New Year's Eve, and if I had gone to that same party this year,
this dress would have been the perfect outfit.
I didn't go to a really great New Year's Eve party again until 1999. I was spending a year in Athens then, and a friend of mine gave this party in her amazing apartment, which had a huge balcony overlooking the Acropolis. At midnight helicopters flew overhead, people shot guns into the air in celebration, and fireworks went off. Then something went wrong with the fireworks and an immense cloud of black smoke billowed out from the Parthenon. The party was almost all archaeology students, and we should have been horrified, but instead we all thought it was hilarious. And the next morning all the antiquities were still standing. For that party, I wore something similar to
this dress in black.
But if I were going to the same party this year, I would wear
this one.
After that I started enjoying New Year's Eve. I met Oliver, and we began hosting our own New Year's Eve parties. If we had done that this year, I would have bought
this dress to wear to the party. It's on sale!
But instead I had the flu on New Year's Eve. I managed to stay up with Oliver to watch the ball drop. I wore
pajamas. And I still had a good time.
When I was growing up, I hated New Year's Eve. It was an interminable evening of sitting around with my relatives watching TV and waiting for the ball to drop in Times Square. And desperately wishing that I could be at a party, any party. (This is a picture from the New York Times in 1907, but I didn't actually grow up in 1907. It just feels like it.)
The first New Year's Eve party I ever went to was in a trailer in the mountains of West Virginia. It was hosted by a music professor and packed with college students and crazy musicians. There must have been twenty fiddlers and at least as many guitarists playing wild, endless reels as everyone drank and danced into the night. It was the first time I had fun on New Year's Eve, and if I had gone to that same party this year, this dress would have been the perfect outfit.
I didn't go to a really great New Year's Eve party again until 1999. I was spending a year in Athens then, and a friend of mine gave this party in her amazing apartment, which had a huge balcony overlooking the Acropolis. At midnight helicopters flew overhead, people shot guns into the air in celebration, and fireworks went off. Then something went wrong with the fireworks and an immense cloud of black smoke billowed out from the Parthenon. The party was almost all archaeology students, and we should have been horrified, but instead we all thought it was hilarious. And the next morning all the antiquities were still standing. For that party, I wore something similar to this dress in black.
But if I were going to the same party this year, I would wear this one.
After that I started enjoying New Year's Eve. I met Oliver, and we began hosting our own New Year's Eve parties. If we had done that this year, I would have bought this dress to wear to the party. It's on sale!
But instead I had the flu on New Year's Eve. I managed to stay up with Oliver to watch the ball drop. I wore pajamas. And I still had a good time.
1 comment:
Aw, sorry you were sick on New Year's.
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