An Elegant Evening in Mount Miffsberg

Three of my balloons look like they're ready to fall off. We had a group crafting party just to glue them all on and I think some of the participants were a little too high to get each adhesion completely right. Luckily, I brought some chewing gum to paste things on again. There will be a lot of that tonight, lemme tell you. Chewing gum and safety pins.

The Spruce & Stone is having their first annual “An Elegant Evening in Mount Miffsberg.” Nobody knows what to think about it, except the farmers, and they just complain about everything. It’s not really my thing, but all my friends are going crazy for it so I’m happy to go with them. Plus, they need me to make the outfits.

None of my friends have enough money to buy real, designer clothes for a night like this, so we are improvising. Knowing that we’re probably never going to wear any of this stuff again; we’re just coming up with ideas made of junk.

My outfit, for instance. It’s made of red balloons. But not what you think. I’m not doing the 1920s stripper wearing inflated balloons like a Fruit of the Loom character. When red balloons are deflated they look a lot like...rose petals. I saw Selena Gomez wearing this really pretty short red dress and it had a sheer fabric underneath but attached all around were what-looked-look rose petals. Red pumps, tinted nylons. That is my look.

For Kaylee, my best friend, I made a red and yellow outfit that looks killer on her. She wanted primary colors to complement her dark skin. She has a shiny red, lined jacket that we started with. Then I got an old red tarp and cut it up to give her massive red shoulder pads and used some of the remainder for a red skirt. For her long legs, we needed yellow boots, which she didn’t have, neither did I, neither did anyone, so we wrapped her legs up in non-sticky yellow caution tape which we pinned to the bottom of her skirt at the top and her yellow heels at the bottom.

And then there's my other best friend, Tiff. She always wants to go as ostentatious as possible. We found a nice Taylor Swift outfit that seemed to suit her generous figure and her need to “glitz.” Taylor’s outfit looked like it was entirely made from silver Christmas tinsel so...that’s what we used. Tiff’s a big girl, so it took seven packages of tinsel to get everything covered, especially the back, and, once we had it all put into place, I stapled it together at the crosshairs and I think it will hold together pretty well. Even if it doesn’t, Tiff will make the best of it. Life-of-the-party Tiff.

We’re on our way to The Spruce & Stone. Tiff insisted on renting a limo. There are exactly four limos in Mount Miffsberg but, hallelujah, Tiff got us one of them. We’re in the car now and headed to the bar. Tiff and Kaylee look fantastic and they are over-the-moon to be doing this party. They’re the glamor-pusses. For me, I’d rather be welding a trailer hitch or doing katas in my studio, but this is okay too. I’m with my gal pals.

The parking lot at The Spruce is getting full. Delilah, who owns the bar, put out a long red carpet leading from the lot to the front door. Holy cow! She’s doing this up big. There are a bunch of people hanging around the carpet. They have cameras and microphones. Wait a second...are there paparazzi in Mount Miffsberg? This has gotta be a first.

We are getting out of the limo and, sure enough, there are cameras flashing at us. What is going on? Kaylee tells me that Delilah hired these people to make it fun walking into the party. It is fun! One of them asked what I was wearing. What do you say? Dollar Tree and Joann’s Fabrics? Are you wearing Michael Kors? No, just Michael’s. It was cool for her to do this for us, though. Making country folks feel important.

We’re in the door now. It looks like everyone followed tonight's unstated theme -- “Redneck Solutions to Red Carpet Problems.” There are more juryrigged, gerrymandered outfits here than steampunk festival. Tiff is prancing around like she’s the host of the thing, which she is not. Kaylee is talking to some of the college kids who joined up - dressed fancy and junky like the rest of us. I can see that onion, Rosie Schlapp, had been pre-gaming probably all day, since she is already sway-like-an-elephant drunk right now and the party is just getting started. Her outfit is good, though. She has silver leggings down to silver boots and a cream tunic with two sets of military buttons down each side. The top of the tunic is fluffy, like Rosie had pushed tissues down the top of her shirt. Probably what it is. It works, though. It looks like a runway outfit...from thirty feet away. Which is the closest I am hoping to get to Rosie tonight.

“You look really, really beautiful tonight, Angie,” Melvin is smiling at me and a few inches from my face.

“Ah, Melvin. I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” is the best I could manage. Melvin has a big crush on me and he really isn’t my type. Especially tonight, as he is inexplicably dressed in a frilly collar and a black velvet jacket with brass embossing on the lapels. Black tights and pointed shoes - good god, what's wrong with this man.

“How did you come up with this look, Melvin?” I ask him.

“I’m Shakespeare, you see. Even though it is not clear who William Shakespeare actually was, the most popular portraits of him feature an Elizabethan collar, which I created using folded up computer paper, and tights and, of course, the shoes.” He flips up one leg to reveal an elfish pointed shoe.

“It’s pretty impressive, Melvin. It seems like most people did fashion looks, but I guess you’re sporting a fashion as well, right?” I give him a weak smile.

“Yes, exactly, Fashion has followed us throughout the ages.” He beamed.

“That’s great, Melvin. Hey, I need to talk to my friend Kaylee. It’s been great chatting with you,” I pat his arm and fake a move left and then move right.

“Angie, I had something to say to you,” Melvin says, but I’m on my way across the floor before he can profess his feelings for me or whatever. That’s the trouble with small towns. There are some people you can never get away from.

I catch up to Kaylee and check her outfit for fallout. It seems to be hanging together. The floor, however, is littered with crepe paper remnants, styrofoam chunks and, in some places, gum, which is sticking to the bottom my shoes.

Kaylee shushes me when Rosie clambers up on the stage. I could give a shit what Rosie has to say, but she’s just -- drunkenly -- introducing the speaker, who turns out to be...Melvin Troutman.

He gets up there with his fluffy collar and silly pointy shoes and pulls the microphone stand up to his height. He begins “O ME!” We all jump. I guess he got our attention.

After pausing, he continues. I think he is trying to fake an English accent. It is hilarious.

“What eyes hath love put in my head,

Which have no correspondence with true sight: 

Or if they have, where is my judgment fled 

That censures falsely what they see aright?”

Melvin is really fruiting it up, throwing his voice up and down, soft and loud.

“If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,         

What means the world to say it is not so?”

Shit, he’s looking right at me. Goddamn it, he’s doing this whole love-poem for me. This is so embarrassing. Now he’s looking at the other side of the bar. Now back at me.

“If it be not, then love doth well denote 

Love’s eye is not so true as all men’s: No, 

How can it? O how can love’s eye be true, 

That is so vex’d with watching and with tears?”

I guess I’ve never actually had a guy recite poetry to me, so that is cool.

“No marvel then though I mistake my view: 

The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.”

I can see why people like Shakespeare, though. The words have a music to them.

“O cunning Love! with tears thou keep’st me blind, 

Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find!”

I am noticing that Tiff and Kaylee are paying rapt attention, and so were the other people. Melvin had them all. Melvin is putting his heart into this thing, wailing and I think I even see him cry a little. Rosie offered him one of the tissues from the top of her dress.

When he finishes, he gets a big round of applause, even me. It is a pretty good performance. I expect everyone to get back to drinking and dancing but they don’t. I start to make my way towards Melvin. I should at least tell him that I appreciated the reading. He didn’t even read it, just memorized the whole thing. That must have been hard to do. All for me.

I keep working towards the stage, but I can’t get there. Too many women surrounding Melvin. You read that right. Too many women surrounding Melvin Troutman. Drunk Rosie Schlapp, Kaylee, Tiff - everybody is pushing in to talk to that goofball. Now I’m more determined to get over there. I’m the main one he wants. I’m the reason he read that poetry. I should be over there talking to him. Seems only right.

This feels like a moshpit at a Motorhead concert. Crazy! I continue to work my way towards him. I’m bigger and stronger than most of these bitches. Now, I’m standing beside him, but he keeps talking to some women in a purple lace get-up. Did she kiss his cheek?

Finally, he shifts his gaze to me and smiles a strange smile. “Oh Angie, I’m glad you’re here. I forgot to say something to you earlier.”

Here we go. I nod my head.

“Mrs. Richardson died. I didn’t know if you knew that. We both had her in eighth grade, remember?”

“Oh...yes,” I said.

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Thanks to Angelica Hicks for her fabulous Instagram channel angelicahicks which gave me the ideas for the outfits.