Last Monday was packed…and it was allegedly my day off. I tried out yet another modern class…no dice. I’m not quite sure if I’m cut out for Seattle’s Modern Dance…too unstructured, too random, and so painful. This morning my butt bones were sore from throwing myself on the floor too many times. The class was taught by not one, but two lesbians–who are dating. (Actually, it was kind of hot). Again, I had fun but I felt really disconnected with the other people. OK, technical jargon: Every modern teacher has a different movement vocabulary and it’s hard to imprint their choreography in my brain when I feel like a big nerd. So, perhaps I’m destined to return to ballet…until I can find some cool modern girls to hang with.
Tuesday, I exercised my retail buyer’s chops at the apparel show in Seattle. After nearly being hit by a truck, the manager and I entered this decadent convention center filled with shimmery shops displaying their wholesale wares. We were there to check out a certain brand that I’m in love with, let’s call it C.L., and I’m hoping to introduce the line to The Beautiful Dance Store. This brand of clothing makes a li’l something called the ‘itty bitty tee’ and it’s fantastic…I have ten–count them–ten of these shirts. Of course at my last store I was allowed to buy them at the wholesale price, because the owner also had a mad love for the brand and identified my need for these tees. (Alas, my discount at the new store is a mere 30% but it’s still something). Most of the booths were selling very stylish, trendy, clothing aimed for high end boutiques. No dancewear in sight–you have to go to the Vegas expo for that…an event I’ve missed every year. We were lucky little C.L. was even there, but the rep was passionate about getting us in. Despite this, we showed up for our 1pm appointment and she was still busy with another client. We got the brush off, and ended up wasting time looking at sweaters with sparkly buttons, high-priced denim, and lingerie–all stuff we can’t sell at our store. I had hoped to mooch off a random sample sale, but had very little luck. We finally went back to the C.L. booth and literally hung around until the sales rep sort of threw us at the rack filled with C.L. stuff. I ended up doing the rep’s job and laying out the various styles for the manager to look over. The advantage the manager has is that she’s grown up around sewing and apparel and knows what to look for. She pointed out interesting flaws with the stitching as well as issues with the overall design. She pronounced the line overpriced for what you get, and considering our shoddy treatment, I agreed.
I left the apparel show and got my haircut at a trendy salon in Belltown. A friend of mine has had several art shows there and I have always assumed they would cut hair well. I ended up with a hip Asian girl with a heavy accent. Language barriers are never the best thing when you’re getting your hair cut. We ended up wallowing in a lot of silence as she attempted to make conversation and I responded hoping she could understand me. My haircut was (is) uninspiring. Not bad but nothing to write home about.
Yesterday I came down with something; today I’m still fighting it. The Beautiful Dance Store continues to be a hotbed of depression, contagion, and recently I’ve been introduced to the Panic Bride Syndrome. The owner also does wedding dresses, etc. and I’ve received numerous phone calls from stressed bridesmaids about when their dress will be ready…I admit I have little patience for them. I was criticized by the owner for not bending over backwards for a bridesmaid on the phone…how was I to know I was suppose to kiss her ass? If Home Girl scheduled her fitting the same day as her flight, how is that my fault? And if she didn’t pay the money to have her gown made in less time, well, how is that my deal? Good Lord…