Bar apparel hard to select for students

I turned 21 on Tuesday.

Around 11:30 p.m., when we finally put Wednesday’s issue of The News Record to bed, I did something I’ve never done before: I went to a bar.

The bar experience was mildly underwhelming although outrageously entertaining. As a non-drinker, I enjoyed a delicious Shirley Temple (Thanks again, Ali!) and a slice of pizza (Thanks again to you too, Amanda!) at Mac’s.

Not being the kind of college student who is out partying every night – or, in my case, ever – I saw a lot of fashion choices that really got me thinking: How drunk are some people when they start getting dressed to go out, and why are their friends not telling them that they look bad, real, real bad.

One of the first girls I noticed was quite literally wearing a too-big tank top (which was cute) over a black bandeau bra. And that was it. I bet if we had done interviews ‘Word on the Street’ style and asked, “How many of you have seen that girl’s hoo-ha-two-times-Tuesday?” the responses would have likely been perverse.

Then there were the dancing girls near the so-called stage.

A pair of light-washed denim jeans were apparently ravaged by wolves and then left for dead. This girl must have been flitting through a forest and found them. One leg was ripped more in front than in back, the other leg was less destroyed than the other.

Her hot pink shirt was tied up like a 1980s flash dancer exposing her midriff a la the 1998 version of Britney Spears.

The entire idea of what to wear when going out is like treading through foreign waters.
Maybe, just maybe, it was unusual for the girls at the table next to us. They definitely prepped for the evening together.

How do I know?

They were wearing the same thing. The exact same dress in a different color (one dress was light blue the other was dark). I didn’t know it was still cool to dress like your best friend. In fact, I don’t know that I ever knew it was cool to dress like your best friend. Although, I guess if you look bad you know you won’t be alone. (They didn’t look bad, just silly and kind of cute. Cute like the old couple in matching jogging suits strolling around the block on Sunday mornings kind of cute.)

My first trip to the bar was not meant to be about fashion – most everyone from TNR rolled into Mac’s in what they’d worn all day, much of it soaked from rain. We were there to have a good time, and we did.

I learned a lot too. I found out that Michelob Ultra is a “baby beer” and that the upside down pineapple shot apparently tastes like cake. I also learned that a lot of “goats” hang out at Mac’s. I met the Clifton Creeper and watched one friend stick a condom down another friend’s shirt
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I also learned that Bo Jessee and Pete Marx – TNR sports dudes – won’t sing karaoke to the Weather Girls’ “It’s Raining Men” even if it is my birthday.

I learned Dave Harding – former TNR sports dude – will. As the last act of the night, Dave was given the microphone as the lights turned on. While that may have deterred some from performing, Dave didn’t even think twice.

When the beat for Prince’s “Kiss” sounded, Dave essentially put me in a headlock and forcibly dragged me onto the stage through what was left of drunken and staggering crowd.

Dave bopped, shimmied and shaked – the only reason I know this is because former TNR Editor in Chief Keith Jenkins took video – unrelentingly. I was too busy laughing, trying to keep Dave’s dance moves at bay. Luckily around the third verse Amanda Woodruff, who took my job as news editor, joined me on stage to boogie.

In all, I’d mark this birthday as an overwhelming success. Thanks to all my friends – especially those from The News Record – for the fun times and the lessons learned. Thank you for introducing to me the best column inspiration and bad fashion breeding ground ever: the bar scene.

Bonjour, 21. May you be more exciting than 20.