the wright stuff

i played a fun gig this weekend with some of my friends from up the road.  we provided the entertainment portion for a high society event that included gourmet cuisine, old timey cars, an expensive auction and an open bar that featured a vintage martini recipe that dates back to 1910.   mason city was out in full force, celebrating the refurbishment ($18 million, yo) and grand re-opening the park inn hotel, the only remaining hotel worldwide designed by the famous american architect frank lloyd wright.

the place was spectacular.  lots of angles and lines, as you would expect.  impeccable woodwork.  mesmerizing stained glass.  some guy waltzing around, dressed as frank lloyd wright.  attractive and somewhat comfortable furniture (hey-it's tough to get both).  classy color schemes.  nifty statues.  an lcd tv screen, playing a rerun of some david blaine stunts, embedded in the mirror of the men's bathroom.

we played fun tunes, old tunes, tunes i don't usually play.  i got my start doing some vocal jazz stuff, and have always been a sucker for getting through chestnuts like a foggy day, but beautiful, don't get around much anymore.  one lady even requested laura, one of my favorites (dig bird with strings). i am obsessed with crafting and observing the design of my lines when i improvise, and was acutely aware of this while nestled inside of a building chock full of this stuff.

i was people watching on this gig too.  i remember reading something where ornette coleman (whose name was just autocorrected to ornate) talks about his thought process when he looks out in to the crowd, wondering "who's that girl...what's she drinking...who's that joker saddled up beside her...did she come here with him?"

i noticed that the invite for this ticketed event suggested "cocktail attire", which was interpreted in several different ways.  plenty of guys were wearing ho-hum navy or charcoal grey suits.  most women accessorized fancy black outfits. cleavage and open-back dresses were common, some unnecessary. a handful of people risked it with crafty patterns and vibrant colors.  the fumes of cologne and hair spray hung in the air. most were strutting in their sunday best.

i wonder why we, as a society, think that dressing up in stuffy and expensive clothes is an important statement of status.  what if we could all just "look nice" and call it at that?  why do orchestras need to wear tuxedos?  choir girls wear unflattering gowns?  why are we so concerned with dressing to impress?  it's a tough situation we have found ourselves in, that i understand.  how can we buck this trend?

people feel good about wearing clothes that they like.  i know that the smug smile i wear when gussied up in a suit and tie would spread all over my face if i could show up in some jeans & a t-shirt (which, ironically enough, is what i wear to school).  i would much rather be around folks in a high class social setting who are more interested in talking with each other than stumbling over their heels, reworking that slip, or sucking it in with a belt that's cinched too tight.  wear the funky clothes that have all kinds of back story.  wear that scarf you got as a gift from your friend's european travels. sport that jewelry your kids made.  rock the hat that hides your receding hairline.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder, musically and otherwise. except for that orange dress.  that woman has no business leaving the house with that thing on.