Thursday, December 15, 2011

Lock it up

New Year’s Eve is two and a half weeks away, but I’ve been feeling pressure to nail plans down since November.  Ticket sales for clubs and bars are well under way, with prices escalating as the days pass.  Should I go?  Should I not go?  Are you going?  Are we all going?  This feels all too much like Coachella.

My roommate views NYE in the same way I feel about Halloween: there’s too much hype, incidental tears, and cleavage.  You spend hundreds of dollars on an outfit, an event, flights, and cabs, only to find yourself waiting hours for the band or model-turned-celebrity-DJ to play, your boyfriend missing during the countdown, or that you passed out before midnight.

As for me, I operate well under pressure, so I actually enjoy New Year’s Eve and the hoopla that surrounds it.  I look forward to the prep, the excitement, the excuse to drink champagne all night.  It’s a true procrastinator’s holiday—a last chance to eke out whatever remaining fun the year has to offer, all while saving your regrets of the night (and the past 364 for that matter) for another day.

For a pleasant change of pace last New Year's Eve, I rang in 2011 in downtown Seattle.  This year, I'll be hanging a little south in Napa, which I think is going to be a little less Gaga and a lot more Grigio.

image: Jill Francksen / The Modern Hostess, 1961

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