The Roaring 20's party last night was fun. We danced like crazy, and the bar was free and open to all. The band was teh awesome, bringing big-band sound to the night.
No, I did not flap or dress as a flapper. It was all very elegant gangster styling. My outfit was Correct in details right down to the button-strap Mary Janes, but my hat went for the kill. It cowed all the wanna-be dress up dolls in their Adult Store Fantasy Flapper outfits and tacky feather boas. (Meow!) They oohed and ahh'd over my get-up, likening it to a costume in some slick Hollywood production. The Jolly Roger, dashing as he is, was quite simply irresistible in his pinstripes and white tie and silk double-breasted blazer with adjunct fedora.
The room was full of gangsters and swells. One couple arrived in their vintage Hupmobile and encouraged us to go and stand by it for a picture. We never did, sorry to say. Actually, I'm not sure there is a picture of us at all. We're bad about that.
But as gangsters, we slayed the room on the dance floor, too. Lots of double-time swing with a bit of the ol' Brick House bump and hustle. But can I just say this? Do all women now have to be pole-dancers? Don't answer that.
Anyhoo, it was fun and frothy and, as an added bonus, extremely gratifying to be hit on by a younger man with too many beers and too little sense than to lay it on with a trowel right in front of the J.R. (although he did show proper deference of a sort). I thanked him for his flattering attentions, encouraged him to have another beer, and shocked him when he heard I had a son almost his age. He was apologetic and stunned, and I assured him it was simply The Hat, working its magic.
The Jolly Roger was fun, too. I deployed his charming smile and footwork talents to rescue his co-worker's date from an evening on the sidelines. She knew no one, and her beau was too shy to dance. We did our good deed by dragging them out onto the floor, he with her, and I with him. How could he say no to The Hat and smiling face behind the proffered and elegantly-gloved hand? Soon they were dancing with each other, laughing and smiling all on their own.
The J.R. is a good man. I don't advertise him much, as the song warns, but I have to say, he was the best of company, and the best man in the room. It was a wonderful way to end the year: healthy, happy, and magical.
Could just be The Hat. Mebbe shoulda bought a Lotto ticket, too.