So the Balls have (mostly) come and gone, but I think it’s still worth sharing advice of what I did right, what I did wrong, and what I wouldn’t do again when it comes to Inaugural Balls.
First there is the getting there. Matt and I struck out for our ball around 6:30 p.m. and snagged a taxi on Clarendon. We headed into the city, down L until about 17th street when we hit a SERIOUS traffic clusterf*ck that never let up. We made our way down L to about metro center when our driver gave K a shot, and around 12th we wound up in the middle of ball-apalooza. We finally disembarked the taxi, forty dollars later, around Union Station. We walked to the lobby of my office where I made Matt switch coats with me. I was wearing a cape-style coat with arm holes that acted like wind tunnels. I recieved many compliments on it, but that “chic” coat, as heavy as that sucker is, was like putting a band-aid on a bullet wound. Lesson learned: Take Metro, wear a warm coat, and if you’re going to drive, take Constitution.
We arrived at the Ball, checked my adorable-yet-useless coat and I decided to forgo my heels, and not to change out of the fancy pointy-toe flats I had worn for walking. This proved to be sheer brilliance on my part, as no one looked at my shoes, and I stood the ENTIRE time. I also heard a tip that I want to pass on – if you’ve got a long dress, wear leggings underneith. You could even wear sweatpants and no one would know. My boss, an old-time republican, said his wife used to head out to the Texas ball wearing a cowboy hat, boots and leggings to get to the ball. Lesson learned: Wear flats, plus add on some warmth cause no one knows what is under your dress. If you get to wear a tux, well aren’t YOU all warm and comfy?
Mulling around the ball, there was a dinner buffet and open bar. Yes, I know, most balls didn’t have such luxuries, but we were a little off the beaten path at our ball. I loved every minute of it, plus the bar made my favorite champagne cocktail. I was one happy little girl. Lesson learned: Eat, drink, and be merry.
Now, Obama didn’t come to my ball, but I hear from our readers and flickr contributors that a well placed dancing spot will earn you some fabulous pictures once the President enters the room. Lesson learned: Think where you mingle. Strategically choose a prime location.
We wound up dancing to a cover of Tiny Dancer, which was simultaniously hilarious and amazing. We were also able to assess the fashion of some eighty-year-old ladies who clearly had not exited the 1980’s and were rocking sequins only seen these days at the drag queen race. Lesson Learned: Make it what you can – there are few occasions when you can see Washington’s true sense of style (or lack thereof.)
All in all, I had a wonderful time at our ball.
How about you reader? What did you learn? What would you do differently if you had the chance for a do-over? Do tell.
Unless otherwise noted, photos in this post courtesy of flickr user Needlessspaces.