Sisterhood of the Traveling B Cup

It’s neighborhood festival season in Chicago, and this weekend is one of my favorites: the Old Town Art Fair.

Old Town Art

Most of the festivals revolve around silly street vendors, food on a stick and live music. But this one is truly a juried art show, and the stuff is quite good.

So earlier this week, Jenn e-mailed me about going to the preview party for the fair at A New Leaf studio. I’d heard this was a really cool loft event space, and with uppity food, drinks and a silent auction, who could resist? And we needed some good Friday night entertainment.

I had a small panic attack at 6:30 — 15 minutes before departure time from our office — when I realized I was wearing khaki capri pants and the invitation said “cocktail party”. Fortunately Jenn confirmed with her friend that it was more of a garden party where cocktails were served. And she was right — I was fine.

When we walked in, we were surrounded by the typical Old Town neighborhood crowd: cougars. Yes, the place was swarming with Mrs. Robinsons, and the botox was thick. So was the silicone. And so were the blond highlights.

The first hour was a hilarious snarkfest. There were some real pieces of work — and the art wasn’t bad either. Then we were a little bored until Jenn’s posse showed up.

But once they did, Jenn’s friend Kathleen summed it up best. The three of us weren’t going to get anywhere at that party with our chests. We were the sisterhood of the traveling B cup.

We stayed until almost 10, met a lot of people, and swooned over the guitar player and his renditions of Purple Rain and Stairway to Heaven.

Take a note boys: playing guitar makes even the most hideous guy instantly attractive.

Tonight we’re going back for the actual fair. Last night there were probably only 50 pieces on display, and only a handful of them were appealing to me.


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