Any potential love affair I might have been considering with BCBG is done, caput, over FOREVER.
My sister had a company holiday party on Friday and I was her date (classy, per usual), and well seeing as I don't really have fancy shmancy dresses just laying around I clearly needed to buy one.
I ordered one from BCBG, which generally is a brand I LOVE.
I got the dress on Wednesday afternoon.
It was the most horrible article of clothing I could have selected.
Literally, the material was terrible and the actual form (you know how they like sew hips & shit in) was awful! Honestly, I never would have even given the dress a second glance in a store.
Never.
Thankfully my Mom is a good sport and didn't mind a late night shopping extravaganza on Thursday night.
And thankfully, White House Black Market is as fucking amazing as it is.
Even more amazing is the sale rack and the fact that I got a sparkly little black number for $50.
So anyways, onwards to Friday.
I woke up with a terrible cold, the kind that punches you in the face.
So I opted to take a dayquill around, oh I don't know noonish, figuring it would wear off in time for alcohol.
So off I went to the hotel to meet my sister, where we dazzled ourselves up with hairspray and 4 inch heels.
And down to the party.
After 4 hours of standing in 4 inch heels, I quite seriously could no longer walk.
Well, I suppose the open bar helped the walking situation and I was able to saunter quite appropriately.
We went back up to the hotel room where my sister informed me she had brought me a change of clothes appropriate for going out to the club.
Ohhh, um ok....well I'm kinda like ready for bed, with this cold and all the beers, you know?
SHUT UP, go change, we're going out.
Obvs all the convincing I needed.
I changed, put on some flats, hopped in a cab to a bar, where we got a table and bottle service.
By bottle service, I mean everyone was drinking vodka sodas, puke.
So they kept making me cups, I kept taking a sip, and putting it down some other location in the bar.
I also cleared the dance floor and threw down the most epic dance party of my whole entire life.
Where I also somehow scored some sweet ass old school rayban-esque shades with neon blue sides that say "sorry for partying" on the armband.
After the club scene got old, a cab was taken back to the hotel.
Where I legit wrapped my sweet shades in my clothes in order to prevent any stealing from anyone (who, I don't actually know).
Then we went back downstairs and 5 of us hopped in a limo to go get Chinese food.
Yes, I said limo.
No, I have no idea how much that cost.
The limo also waited while we stuffed our faces with Chinese deliciousness.
We then raced from the restaurant and hopped back in our limo.
Back to the hotel, where I curled up for slumber.
I woke up feeling like my head could possibly split open.
Apparently dayquill that did not leave my system might do that.
Or the beers, I don't know.
But I do know that I couldn't pick my head up off the pillow to put my necklace (which I had taken off the night before) back on, which means that I laid it on the bed until I could pick my head up.
I then proceeded to drive home with my head laid back against the car seat wearing my sweet ass shades.
It then dawned on me that somehow I left the hotel without putting my necklace on.
I cried, on the inside, because I wasn't physically capable of making real tears.
But in all seriousness, should you want to score some shades like the ones I brought home, I give you: sorry for partying.
