Valentine's Day

Last night, for the second time in as many weeks, someone asked me what was wrong and why was I walking like that. Note to self: must learn to walk like a model in high heels. (Brief aside: once, when I was walking down a Georgetown hall to lead a discussion section, a stranger accosted me from out of the blue and asked if I was a model. So this high-heel walking problem must not have always existed. Also, dear reader, in case you're thinking this was just a lame pick-up line, it wasn't--the person who asked me if I was a model was an older woman, not a young man.)

For Valentine's day, I went dancing with Fedora and Cardigan--we went back to the Barbary. I was convinced that while we went to the 90s hip hop bar part of the Barbary last time, the downstairs would be a regular old dancing place. Nope: the downstairs had an 80s prom-theme and was all hipsters. I'd never heard any of the songs before. Although during one of them, all the hipsters were singing along at the top of their lungs. It was so endearing to see hipsters not being ironic, but being utterly absorbed. Hegel would have been happy.

Hipster watching is pretty intriguing, although since it was Valentine's day, there were a lot of frisky hipsters. What I like best is that you never have to worry about matching--you just wear whatever clothes it occurs to you to wear. I wore an obviously summer dress with a yellow cardigan and was immediately complimented upon walking into the Barbary. Before the dancing, we went to Village Whiskey, where they make a mean hot brown and lots of fancy burgers.