Got to check out the new AllSaints store in Georgetown a couple weeks ago. I love that D.C. has been deemed hip enough to get an AllSaints store, but when I see dresses like this, I have to wonder: "Did the marketing team accurately research the fashion climate in Washington?"
Someone might not have done their homework.
In my last post, I mentioned Tria, the fun wine bar that Debie and I went to in Philadelphia thanks to a recommendation from our friend Kate. While we ate, we noticed that a bunch of the staff had identical "Riesling" tattoos on their forearms. What's the deal with that, we wondered. Did they really like Riesling that much? There's commitment for you.
They were temporary, of course. The manager gave me one after I inquired. Debie said I should put the tattoo on my forehead, or maybe on my neck. A "Riesling" neck tattoo. That's gotta be the yuppiest neck tattoo ever.
I stayed true to my conservative nature and just went for the fake wrist tattoo. I dipped my napkin in my water and applied the tattoo at the table. Classy. When I came back from the bathroom, a waiter had carefully folded up my soaked, crumpled napkin for me. Now that is service.
The manager kindly posed with me for a snapshot. I've joined the Riesling cult.
Two days in, and the "N" and "G" had already rubbed off. All last week, I wondered around with a "Riesli" tattoo. A lot of people thought it was the real thing! It looks very real. I'm getting used to the idea of having a tattoo now. I like the typeface and location. Hmm... Could I take the plunge?
The fact that it is so permanent is still scary. Maybe I'll just wear the same temporary tattoo in the same spot and constantly reapply until I'm 40.
Today, it just says "Riesl." That could be a name, if you were German maybe. So it's been a week with the temporary tattoo. I am going to see how long I can keep this going.
On Sunday, Joe and I went to the Greek Festival at Saint Sophia Orthodox Church in D.C. Gyros were the main draw, but they were surprisingly lackluster, considering the lines. I guess it's a captive audience for gyros.
As soon as we got our food and sat down to eat, it started to drizzle. We walked over to a shady spot down the street and sat on a bench, and I noticed all these wires sticking out at the base of the bench.
Turns out there was a notebook attached to record your time sitting in the park. I turned back to last spring and a Thai tourist couple complained about how expensive the gyros at the Greek Festival were. A nice little time capsule. I'm such a sucker for guests books, it's fun to see who else has walked in your shoes over the years.
Not everyone liked the journal though. There's always a critic.
I've transferred my allegiance from Hipstamatic to Instagram. Even though Hipstamatic does have "hip" in the name. Instagram just has more options.
I took all these photos on Cinco de Mayo. Which is in fact completely unrelated to the subject of the photos.
I will keep you abreast of the construction progress on the new D.C. Shake Shack (!). No need to move to NYC now...
Joe's former coworker's magnificent koi pond. It's like a secret garden in the city. I was mesmerized by those fish! Some koi facts: they can weigh 30 pounds and live more than 125 years. It's true, I just fact-checked it. One of the rare koi in this pond is white and has a perfect red dot on his forehead, symbolizing the Japanese flag.
I couldn't even keep a goldfish alive!
One of the coolest house numbers I've ever seen - metal cutouts of the numbers illuminated from within.
I must actually be an optimist, because no matter how many times I've been rained on in general admission at outdoor shows, I still buy lawn tickets. An optimist or a cheapskate.
Won't it be nice to picnic on the grass with friends, I think, as I click "purchase." All other occasions when I've sat huddled under a garbage bag to keep out the rain have disappeared from my mind.
Even on Sunday when I was getting ready for the Sweetlife Festival, I looked at the weather and saw a 20% chance of rain. Yay, it won't rain, I decided, specifically choosing to bypass umbrellas. 20% equals 0% for me. Thankfully, Joe convinced me to bring a raincoat.
But even though of course it rained, a steady drizzle that turned into bona ride miserable storm the festival was still fun. Towards the end, the rain disappeared so the crowd could thoroughly enjoy Lupe Fiasco, Girl Talk and The Strokes.
The first two of those acts got panned in the Post, but out in the muddy lawn seats, everyone seemed to be having fun. That's all Girl Talk is about, having fun. Dancing like a maniac with thousands of people doing the same. Also confetti and balloons. There's nothing deeper to it than that. Music purists may be appalled by Girl Talk - 30 second clips of music strung together for the ADD generation. Why listen to an entire concert of one artist when you can listen to the best of 60 artists' work crammed into one hour?
I argue that Girl Talk doesn't equal the apocalypse for pop music. I watched the same crowd get just as jazzed for The Strokes and they are about as classic rock and roll as you'll get in 2011. The two can sit together, in harmony, on the same festival lineup.
