A funny thing happened in Clare Vivier...

Good morning, Wednesday. It's actually nice outside for a second. Yes.

So yesterday I was looking for a gift and went into Clare Vivier- you know that spot, right? Great bags and leather accessories and fun things for cool little Frenchy types and the American girls that love them. I myself have a few of her bags and clutches and am a humble fan. But I digress.

As Khan and I browsed, I couldn't help but notice a girl trying on a ponyhair, leopard print crossbody bag. It was a nice bag for sure- she was dressed fairly nondescript but had a lankiness I appreciated so I noticed her. 

As her and the salesgirl chatted away about cute bags vs. cute bags, I happened to be listening when said salesgirl asked, "So is that bag for a special occasion"?

To which my nondescript tall girl replied, "Ya. I'm going to a Dead Show?"  


This young girl was buying this bag for a Dead show? Whatttttt?

As a seasoned Dead show vet (when the Dead were still the Dead that is), I couldn't help but intervene.

"No. Just no. You can't wear that to a Dead show", said I.

"Realllly? What would you wear then? I want something cute". OMG. Dummy.

I then chose a tan neutral leather crossbody and told her she could also rock a straw bag, or maybe a brown La Tropezienne. But under no circumstances should she wear that bag- really I just wanted her to leave the store but what could I do really? It's true you can wear absolutely whatever the f you want to see the Dead, but keep it lowkey. Clare Vivier is lovely for brunch. Clare Vivier is lovely for work/drinks. Claire Vivier does not belong at a Dead show. Even if it is John Mayer and not Jerry. Like- a big no no, non? I could have gotten depressed about the whole thing, as in no more Jerry and no more real hippies looking for miracles- instead they're eating avocado toast and looking for handbags. Sigh.  Besides, shopping for an outfit for a Dead show is really weird. Shopping for an expensive handbag for one is even stranger. Long strange trip, indeed.

Poor kid. She didn't know what hit her. But I couldn't let her go out like that. I felt it my duty to help. And why do I care? I don't know why. It was just a funny little moment that felt so off. And then after I left the store, praying she made good choices, I went home and watched that insane new Dead documentary on Amazon (more on that tomorrow). And then this morning I bought tickets to Dead and Co. Because I needed to. And you can bet yer sweet US Blues I won't be wearing that bag. I will most likely be wearing my brown leather Moroccan fringe bag from a flea market. Cause that's what's up this schooling the uneducated kind of Wednesday in the 718. Yours, in stealing faces and funny moments. XO