A couple of weeks ago, I went upstate to Woodstock for a music festival. I think it was actually right outside of Woodstock, but saying I went “to Woodstock for a music festival” sounds way sexier. And--no offense, Psych Fest--but this was the sexiest music festival I’ve ever been to.
Chiefly for the fact that it was invite-only. So sexy. It was some dude name Andy Animal's birthday party! He’s a helluva guy, that Andy. Riding around on his motorcycle all big and hairy and sunglass-ed and sexy. On Saturday during a set, he rode by and accidentally pulled the plug on all the equipment. It was as adorable and charming as a large man on a motorcycle is adorable and charming, and in all seriousness, I find large men on motorcycles the ultimate in those two categories.
All the music happened under this big white tent held up by humongous carved wooden poles in the middle of a field at the center of the campgrounds. If you wanted to experience the entire party, you needed to come Friday night and stay for Saturday.
Intern (pre-promotion) borrowed a HONDA ELEMENT from a sweetie friend and we drove in after (during--lol, sorry Corynne) work on Friday. At this point, I didn’t really know what to make of the weekend ahead, but the Black Lips played a rad show for the party of about 50 shortly after we arrived, so I knew it was all going to be juuuuuust fine.
The next day, we frolicked in the river right behind our HONDA Element with some bros we met, also from Atlanta. They had these kewt little chocolate candies in the shape of skulls that they shared with us. How sweet is that?
Then an amazing thing happened: I met a real-life fairy. I’M NOT KIDDING. She was a magical fairy princess angel goddess and she knew Brayden because, without exaggeration, everybody knows Brayden.
She called me pretty right of the bat, which cemented her status as my best friend for eternity. (Sorry, Abby. Your first words to me were, “You don’t have a personal style bah-log, do you?”)
The angel lived in a magical school bus wherein weird and amazing things happened. She led me to her campsite by the hand, waving to her buddy in a tent and announcing, “I went babe hunting! Look what I caught!” (See? Best friends.) Although, I actually must have been looking super ruined because after taking me inside the bus and pouring me a drink she stared more intently at my face.
“Do you want some lipstick or something?” She asked, unzipping her pink cosmetics bag full of Lime Crime tubes. She was killing it with spinach-y green eyebrows and an electric-purple lip. She had Crayola-marker-yellow pigtails and super-sexy pointed fiberglass nails in a dreamy shade of washed-out pinkish nude. (I really want her to write for the site...)
I smeared a bright coral lipstick onto my fingertip, dabbing my lips and cheeks. I honestly didn’t really care what I looked like at that point, despite bringing a rather large bag of beauty products along for the trip. I really DON’T UNDERSTAND the fascination with “camping beauty.”
Like, why are you trying to simplify? Don’t tell me it’s for lack of space--IT’S MAKEUP. You could be a self-proclaimed “beauty junkie” and still load your entire stash in a small-to-medium-sized duffle bag and STILL fit in in the car. IT’S A HONDA FREAKING ELEMENT. We could have taken friends if we had any! Plus it’s not like you’re going on a plane where you have container restrictions, you bozo. Take whatever you want to take!
AND DON’T TELL ME it’s because you’ll be “busy” doing “camping stuff.” Oh, you mean SITTING AROUND ON LOGS STARING AT EACH OTHER? Sounds like a perfect time for nail polish. The fumes will dissipate into the vast expanse of fresh air you’re surrounded by.
Plus if you ever NEEDED makeup more, it’s while camping! You think you’ll wake up looking refreshed and dewy after being eaten by mosquitos and spiders while sleeping on the ground? Or worse, in the back of a HONDA ELEMENT? Three hours in the wilderness and you’ll be willing to do weird things for a Touche Eclat pen and some rosewater. (The rosewater, while frivolous, I highly recommend. Treat yourself to a face mist! This Badescu one is refreshing, not super-perfumed, and inexpensive. I sprayed a quarter of it in my hair and it dried really amazing and wavy, like it had been shampooed.)
And, let me tell you, we were SURROUNDED by hot chicks. Hot chicks in leather, hot chicks in shorts, hot chicks with big hair, hot chicks with hats, hot chicks with no hats, hot chicks in vintage, hot chicks that looked like Spice Girls, hot chicks looking like Debbie Harry in a Playboy Borat-style one-piece and boots that were out looking for “d.”
I’m not saying she was looking for d because I’m being derogatory and hateful. I’m saying it because, as she rode by ass-naked on a Harley with the magical fairy goddess, half-naked going, “Hey boo!” and waving to me (photo of exact moment below), Almost Debbie snapped, “WE AIN’T GONNA GET ANY D IF YOU KEEP TALKIN TO CHICKS!”
The music ruled, and more people started to roll in Saturday morning to join the party. Alex from White Mystery, one of my biggest hair inspirations, was there shredding and being the nice lady that she always is. They played a great set; you should really buy their album and try to make it to one of their shows. (Brayden is their long lost third sibling.)
I awoke from a time warp nap to catch Mungo Jerry, vintage hair inspo, closing the party out with a super-long and super-sexy set. I think he played “In The Summertime” like four times. I enjoyed them all equally.
So in conclusion, I’ve heard great things about this Andy guy and if he ever were to read this (I highly doubt dude’s got blog rounds, and if he did, xoVain wouldn’t be on it), I’d like to thank him for having us to his weird but sexy party. Happy birthday, Andy! Next time I'll bring you some Yankee Candles for your sexy bathtime.