Happy New Year!

I am saying over and over “it’s a small town.”  There was a glossy card promoting a Masquerade Ball at “The Standard” and it seemed to be the thing to do this New Year’s Eve.  I gravitated to the details that this party started at 9 p.m., had 3 D.J.s mixing, and all the party goers were encouraged to Dress to Impress and wear masks until Midnight.  Why gravitate to The Standard?   The managers who resurrected the club from all its previous failures were focused on promoting local art and fringe musicians who offered quality.  I wanted to see the wall space.

First:  I would like to reinforce that I always promote frivolous endeavors with small budgets.  I bought the red mask  for $10, and that wasn’t even necessary since the club was going to be giving away masks to all party goers.  I wanted my mask to match my dress.  I bought the dress last October at a thrift store when I had grand ideas for singing a torch song I’d written with Kevin and accompanied by his acoustic Ovation guitar.  Shoes: my friend Jim had just given me the high-top converse sneakers as a welcome back gesture from NYC.  Converse go with everything.  The cover charge for the party was only $5.  All doable!

As a bit of serendipity, I was immediately recognized (In spite my masked self) by Bridget Yunker who remembered me from days of networking the Energy Lab gallery and admired her gilded frame restoration work.  I had not seen her in over 8 years and got the update she has been paying rent by working Home Depot’s kitchen design department all this time since.  )Here is where I insert my predictable…sigh.)  She introduced me to Courtney Arnold.  Totally lovable and adorable!  I already knew her son who had bragged to me the “Mom paints great furniture pieces which are on display at “The Art Lounge.”  That store is on Anastasia Island.  As kindred artistic spirits we wiggled together on the dance floor, protecting and flanking each other from those who pegged our creep-o-meter.  Then something weird happened to how I felt at about 11:30 pm.  I felt like it was bad luck to be bringing in the new year with only new friends and acquaintances.  All of a sudden I was overwhelmed with superstition and felt I needed to be home before midnight.  Like Cinderella dashing for the strike of the hour I made my exit and did just that.  Maybe it was safer on the road, there wasn’t any traffic.



01. January 2013 by Jean Drayovitch
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