Monday, January 19, 2015

the unplayed notes museum


"It's Rodarte."

I will NEVER get sick of saying this.  
I had decided that 2015 would be a great year to expand my fashion collection... and what better a way to start the year than by adding this Spring 2013 Ivy Trellis gown to the mix?  



This dress just kind of fell into my lap.  And by that, I mean that eBay and my impulsivity are kind of a match made in hell.  I'm just going about my day, eating those goddamn Girl Scout cookies, surfing eBay, and - BAM - I don't have any rent money, but I have a floor-length Rodarte gown being overnighted to me.  After "rationalizing," I decided that I had a perfect justification for my impulse buy - the opening of Dallas Contemporary's Loris Gréaud exhibition, "The Unplayed Notes Museum."

Also, I'm brunette again.  I'm kind of at a weird in-between stage where I'm terrified to wash my hair and watch all of the color come running out.  The transition is definitely going to be a process (I have another appointment this week), but my colorist seems confident that the end result will be worth it.

But yeah, Mark and I rolled into the members-only opening night party (in his Honda Element because our lives are very luxurious) and I stepped out in this (and my 3.1 Phillip Lim booties).  

The night was kind of interesting all-around.  As expected, any Rodarte look is polarizing; some people love it and some ... let's just say I had some haters.  Anyway, the show itself (which wasn't actually the "show"... but more on that later) was divided all around four different spaces within Dallas Contemporary.  My favorite room had a ring of GIANT white plaster angels whose faces had been broken off and assembled amongst dead butterflies in the space within the ring.  Casually playing in the foreground is a video of two people sexin' (shot with a thermal camera).  Classiest sex tape ever.

This plaster motif was apparent throughout....which became relevant about 90 minutes in when a group of around 25 performers started smashing everything!  Mark was literally snapping a pic and someone right next to me just shoved a sculpture to the ground and the fire alarm started going off.  Cue the mild heart attack I had, assuming I was somehow at fault due to proxy (I'm a dumbass).  

We all got ushered outside (people were ripping shit off the walls at this point) and the giant group of us had nothing to do but take advantage of the open bar.  We stood around chit-chatting and sipping in the front of the Contemporary (charmingly located in the "Bail Bonds" district of Dallas) for about an hour before people started to get bored and the crowd trailed off.

Cue us at the 7-Eleven!!!  By the end of the show I was starving, and as there was no way I could consume any food in a gown I'd been holding my breath in all night, I decided a gas station was as good a place as any to change into a flannel and Uggs for the car ride home.  For whatever reason, Mark decided that this would be an appropriate place to feature my gown.  Enjoy.  I did.

FYI we ate Whataburger!

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