I have a brother who is 7 years younger than me and a professional musician. This relationship affords me lots of good things, but most notably, the frequent opportunity of being the least cool person in the room.
Last night I saw him perform with one of his bands in a local club. Even in the absolutely cutest outfit I own, accessorized with vintage cowgirl boots my other and also cooler brother bought me, I walk in the room feeling like the stank of responsibility is on me. I'm surrounded by knit beanies, tattoos, short skirts and high heels. Here I am: a married, church-going, mother-of-two QUILTER from Irvine, sitting with my parents, yawning because it's past my bedtime. The corners of my squareness are so sharp, it might be dangerous for those around me.
From my square vantage point, at least 10 years removed from most of the audience, I feel there's an interesting clarity to my vision. For one thing, I notice that all the girls are dressed alike. They don't realize it, but they are: some permutation of either short skirt or short shorts, a loose blouse (most likely off one shoulder) and either ankle boots with heels, or pumps with heels.
I can also imagine that each girl is wearing the second or third outfit she tried on, because once her friend showed up to give her a ride, and she saw what the friend was wearing, she had to make at least one adjustment. Which is why they are kind of paired up in the way they are dressed: one in the aforementioned shorts while the other is in the short skirt. (I say this not a bit condescendingly, because I know my crowd has our own uniform too: bermudas or jeans, over-priced t-shirt, flip flops, Starbucks cup, stroller. Not quite as sexy...)
I wonder if they see me (do I stand out the way I think I do)? Or have I become invisible? There was a time that in a room like this, the whole point for me would have been to get noticed.
Which brings up another, more cheerful thought: I have reached the end goal of this 20-something scene; or at least, my own 20-something goal. Which was: get noticed, get a boyfriend, eventually get a diamond from said boyfriend, get married, get house, have kids with said boyfriend. So now I'm not at all feeling old and passed over, but rather, quite successful.
And meanwhile, I'm also not too old to enjoy the music, which, frankly, rocks. To learn more about the coolest member of my family, follow this link:
http://soundcheck.ocregister.com/2010/05/19/orange-pop-jameson-burt-finds-a-balance/27037/. I really think Jameson is a genius, and I say that without bitterness even though he won't let me sing backup. (He says my bedtime would be an issue.)
If you ever want to remember what it felt like to be 26, give me a call. I could use someone to sit with that isn't my mom (no offense, Mom).