Wednesday, July 15, 2009
It's been a while. Let me catch you up on my life since my heady, tongue-in-cheek blog entry about being a bridesmaid that now hilariously screams, "This girl's got NO idea what's coming for her."
On Tuesday, June 30th, the mini-major studio I worked for, Paramount Vantage, was dissolved. "Dissolved" is the cute way of saying we all lost our jobs but didn't take it personally. I was so upbeat and blase with the HR rep who gave me my little "goodbye" packet I think I freaked her out more than if I'd cried, screamed, and gone all Norma Desmond on her ("I AM Paramount Pictures!"). I remember sitting there, listening to something about my 401K rolling over and thinking, "I can't believe I dressed up today. For this. This HR rep's wearing jeans and wedge sandals." It was akin to one of my favorite titles of a country song I can't bear to listen to, Deana Carter's "Did I Shave My Legs For This?"
On Thursday, July 2nd, I boarded a plane to Las Vegas for a best-timing-ever vacation with...wait for it...my mother. Now I know what you're thinking. Vegas with mom: body shots, day-long hangovers and mild vandalism MUST have ensued. Shockingly, however, Mom and I kept it together and mostly just ate and played video poker until we couldn't do 'em no more. We also watched some "Reba" as we got ready at night - a show that will never stop surprising me. It's hilarious and GOD Reba's plucky. It was sort of like when in college you and your girlfriends would get ready for a night out and listen to "I Touch Myself" and "Like a Prayer," but it was the laugh track of "Reba."
Anyway, this whole scenario roughly translated to heaven. If you're retired. So, I just pretended all the long weekend that I was just that. Retired.
But, to get to the "point" of this blog, I'd like to share with those of you unfamiliar with the big LVNV what I've learned one should wear to various outings and activities around Vegas, or in different scenarios that have brought you there. Granted I mostly saw all this through the lens of the ironically named hotel-casino the Wynn, a lovely establishment run by an egomaniac who's NOT Donald Trump. So here we go:
If you are ME - you finally give in and wear nothing but a bikini and kitten heels around the pool because, hell, everyone else is doing it (and I mean EVERYONE, I swear I saw an 8 year-old in plastic kitten heels and some American Apparel Jr.-esque silver one piece with like, cleavage and the sides cut out). If you are judging me right now, let me add, in my defense, I've only got so many bikini and kitten heels years left. So, rather bravely, I paraded from my chaise lounge to the pool that way. Otherwise it was J. Crew Cover Up City. But there was my big effort not to be business casual poolside.
Enough about me, let's get to the good stuff!
If you are A LITTLE OLD FOR A BACHELOR PARTY but still clearly with a bachelor party - an ironic tee-shirt that still subtly hints that you might be a catch. My favorite of this grouping read, "Trust me. I'm a doctor."
I believe Vegas is the place where men with reputable occupations wear shirts that make them seem a little more loosey-goosey, and porn producers wear Polo and Izod. I wish I didn't know the latter part from experience (thanks, Tao Beach! ick).
If you are at A TRENDY 21+ POOL PARTY at an upscale hotel and casino - nothing but your tattoos and plastic surgery, like badges of honor. At least not on top. Especially if you're pregnant. Oh yes, a pregnant French woman five lounges down from me was fully topless. And I'm sitting there trying to breathe deeply about my Target bikini and kitten heels. So repressed. Moving on...
If you are from ENGLAND OR ANY OTHER OF THE BRITISH ISLES - bathing suits and tee shirts with ABERCROMBIE or GAP written literally across the entire article of clothing. Only in the UK (and maybe Australia) do people wear GAP like it's Marc Jacobs.
At an UPSCALE RESTAURANT - dress like a prostitute going to a fancy meal (thanks to Shley for that turn of phrase), a Busch league sorority girl, or an Eastern European gangster channeling Dean Martin.
At THE PENNY SLOTS - a fanny pack. It's just good sense.
At TRYST NIGHTCLUB - HUGE diamond earrings (this applies to MEN ONLY).
In the GIFT SHOP - Beyonce Knowles-related bling. For those of you who don't know (so Ann, you can read a few lines ahead), Beyonce is ending her "I AM..." world tour at the Encore, the Wynn's sister hotel and casino, at the end of July. So you can't pull a slot machine handle or pay too much for a bottle of water without hearing the most upsettingly catchy "Single Ladies/Halo" medley this side of the Mississippi. And the gift shop is a Beyonce fan pack rat's nightmare. Can't swing a dead cat without hitting $200 sunglasses with "Beyonce" in some strange script where the "Dior" or "Chanel" should be or loads of other crazy in love crap.
The next time I go to Vegas I will probably be footing the bill and accordingly be staying at Circus Circus, or one of those casinos from the best sequence from the movie VEGAS VACATION where you can play "Which Hand" and "Pick a Number from 1 - 10." At that time I will revisit this subject.