Well hats optional, but they do tend to make a statement. This weekend I was invited to the Porsche event at MKT and it happened to fall near the end of my hair washing schedule so I had to make the tough choice of either washing my hair to impress the bourgeoisie or fucking the patriarchy with nasty hair… discreetly under my hat. I’m not sure if any of that made sense but nevertheless I am and forever will be lazy. Hat won. 

How I was invited to this fancy party still amazes me but somehow I ended up walking around MKT for 5 whole minutes trying to find the front door. I somehow managed and the bouncer was giving me the “nu-uh-you-better-get-your-ass-to-the-back-of-the-line” glare but I countered with a super cute “I think security has my ticket??” and all he needed was my name. Like a magic password “Ariel” got me right through the gate. The 50 people behind me in line had all of a sudden legally changed their names and were hollering that they in fact were Ariel and not me but Bitch I’m Madonna. As in Ariel is unique enough to not require a last name… most days. 

This super fancy man approached and I’m assuming he was the GM or in charge of fancy Porsche parties. He told me they were taking bets on wether I would be a mermaid or a princess. I felt hella fancy (you can tell by how many times I’ve used the word already). The next day I received a DM from this man in charge telling me that a VIP asked him to put me on the list so they made a list. Greatest achievement of my life (other than my degree, world travels, art exhibitions, keeping a plant alive longer than 5 years, etc). But for a night I was a priority at a fancy party full of millionaires. Boy were they fooled. 

So you could say the main demographic of this party was Sugar Daddy. It suddenly hit me that I’ve been hanging out at the wrong bars. But it wasn’t too long until I ran into a few casual acquaintances… past lovers, stalkers, people who got me fired, etc. Sipping on my gingerale I decided to engage in a real conversation with the angel who got me a ticket. You know, a conversation where you’re not looking over their shoulder in a blank gaze searching for someone more interesting and shiny but are actually interested in what they have to offer. Turns out my chaperone has written a book, rides motorcycles, contemplates philosophical questions. This has been a goal of mine since I quit drinking - to practice being more engaged and confident without the alcohol. Surprisingly I only met and talked to one other person there. Well there was the occasional drunk girl telling me how much they loved my hat. But I probably looked spoken for. 

My dreams of driving a Porsche at the party were smashed when we decided to walk over to the new Bottega. Less disappointing was the restaurant. It had it’s soft opening that day and it was turning into a little vip after party celebration with one of the owners and his friends. Met a lot more people here. Most of which were older men who I felt wanted in my pants (well culottes to be specific), but I did have some interesting conversations. One man asked me why I wanted to wear a hat and the response of not wanting to wash my hair seemed to upset his idea of femininity. Another of these men who was flirting with me happens to be the father of this guy who constantly tries to add me on Snapchat. I’m not going to lie, it feels great to have multiple generations interested. The overall feel of the place was also great. Reminded me of when the downtown Bottega first opened. 

Overall, it was a successful night of not drinking and being mistaken for important. I’ve actually learned to enjoy going out sober more than drunk. The only downside is not having alcohol to numb the pain of wearing heels. I enjoy having a clear mind while I’m meeting new people and being able to drive home when I want. I did wake up dehydrated though. Need more water. I should know this by know… I have raised a plant.