Tequila Shoes

So back to the basics, what I am drinking on a Wednesday night. I felt, however, that yesterday gave too much of a tip-off as to what was in my glass so I thought I would just move forward with it. If I said, Oh this bottle of wine is lovely etcetera etcetera you all would call me a liar because I told you yesterday I was drinking tequila with the BF. Of course, I could have wine before the tequila, but then again, its Wednesday.

So here I am, not lying, albeit not yet drinking tequila either (still plenty of time in the day for coffee). I’m reliving yesterday’s post a bit and daydreaming about how many articles of clothing I can fringe, while simultaneous recognizing that if its going to be a Margarita or a Mezcal evening, I better get me some sturdy shoes. Or these. I can rely on the boyfriend to wear flats.

Image Courtesy of jakandjil.com

I’ve learned more about tequila in the last few years. Some has been peer-pressured into my stomach by a friend of mine who can drink it like water and yet never seems to have any annunciation issues. Other times, it has come in a punch bowl. Once it even came in the form of my favorite drink, an Old Fashioned, at The Stanton Social in New York. More than once it has come in the way of Mezcal flights with tomato juice. Which I suppose isn’t technically tequila, but it’s awfully close.

I’ve also learned that tequila does not inevitably become a hurricane of a hangover, rather, if done correctly, it’s actually quite the cooperative spirit. I’m particularly partial to Corzo although the partiality is partially due to the fact that I find the bottle to be the most beautiful.

What is your favorite? Favorite Tequila creation? Favorite tequila memory that you can’t remember?

How to Drink Cocktails and Look Good Doing It (Part II)

Ok, I know what you are thinking. I already wrote this. Which of course is true, I did. But I went out this weekend and I realized people aren’t listening to me. Are they crazy? Why would you not want to wear denim, leopard, army green, cargo pockets, red lace, glitter and leather at the same time? Duh! Do it!

So I went to a bar, let’s just say it was not a bar that demanded a high level of dress. Ok, let’s just say that bar is in Fenway and has “Tequila” and “Rain” in the title. Let’s also say that if you go to a bar with either or both of those words in the title and you happen to drink a two foot long frozen something or other with bourbon (not tequila?) your body might remind you for three days afterwards that you went to a bar with “Tequila” and/or “Rain” in the title. Ouch.

This way, I know its mine!

Before I go further, let me just say I am a huge advocate of anything short with heels. Its my favorite thing. I recognize that the time is coming when I won’t be able to get away with mini-skirts and stilettos and so I plan to rock it for as long as possible. Theoretically, because I am no longer an undergrad that time may have passed, but I can rest on the fact that I am still a student so its ok. Or just in denial, but either way, I’m going with it.

I also know that girls get dressed up for their girlfriends and girl strangers, not strange boys. In fact, in my opinion it’s the opposite–the hope is that stranger girls think you look good and strange boys leave you alone. For that reason, my forthcoming statements about hoo-has and ta-tas are limited to what I think, not what boys think with their pants. Or what’s in their pants. This is all getting very uncomfortably NSFW.

First of all, never show your hooha. I’m not sure whether or not to hyphenate that. I know that’s foundational but when I think people need advice, I never hesitate to word vomit all over them. It might seem like a worthwhile risk in the evening after a few cocktails. You may be thinking “I’m free. I’m independent. I don’t care what people think.”

But remind your intoxicated self, that sober self has to wake up the next morning to ask “How many people saw my underpants last night?”

See, no one in Beverly Hills would serve this lady… What a hussy Oh yeah, still got it.

Dress Rag & Bone (old), Shoes BCBG Max Azria, Bracelets, Tai and Kwiat

General rule of advice, if you are dancing around the idea of flashing strangers with your barely-there bottoms, first call me, second, cover up up-top. No need to show the whole world the whole bit of what your momma gave you.

Jacket Urban Outfitters, Chambray Shirt, J Crew

Second of all, my chest never really made it through puberty so my advice on covering up on top is both limited and biased, because I might as well be a 17-year old boy and I’m still jealous of the most popular girl in middle school. Nevertheless, the rule applies in opposite too! Show some boob, cover some legs or arms or both. As I am writing this, I am planning the photographs I am taking, and I just got very uncomfortable at the idea of actually following up on this, but that’s ok because there is still plenty of time in the day for wine.

I tried to take pictures of a low cut something or other but all it highlighted was my sternum, which is strangely deep, and my rib cage. So Pretend these are major league yabos (I just learned that)

Shorts, Winter Kate, Shoes, Luxury Rebel. Blue Books in the background, Journal with my published note, holler.

Then pretend this man shirt is a pair of baggy pants. Then dance to Miss New Booty.

Longest post ever, but its half about boobs, so Delta 0!?