After a couple of crazy weeks at work this girl needed a night out. I knew Sarah would (as always) be happy to lend an assist in trouble causing. With the weather being pretty nice this past Saturday I decided I was going to dress like it was Spring, never mind the temperatures dipping back down a bit at night. Since it was a beautiful day I took advantage and ran a few errands. Errands in Erica with a C Land always devolve into shopping. Bad Erica! I had already bought a pair of Joe’s jeans at the Nordstrom Rack on my way home from work during the week. Luckily for me ankle length jeans are the perfect length and don’t need to be shortened (like every other pair of jeans I own-being short is rough).
I just knew that Sarah and I would make this a late night out aside from it being St. Patrick’s (pre?) weekend. This called for a statement top to pair with my new very skinny jeans. While wandering around the Flatiron District I stumbled onto the perfect piece. It spoke to me with the promise of warmer weather and free drinks. I’ve come to realize I have a penchant for backless (or sheer) shirts, sue me. Honestly I blame it on having previously worked in lingerie. I own some really great sets and why should only a select few get to see them? There’s something really appealing to me about a peek of lacy lingerie. Although in this case it was more of an eyeful. I have this really pretty bra with fantastic lace combined with an almost utilitarian back closure and straps. It went perfectly with the cut of the new top.
The light steel grey color of my tank lent itself to silver jewelry. I broke out another necklace given to me by Grandma, which she purchased for herself in Arizona. Every time I wear it someone always compliments it, I am certainly not complaining. For earrings I went with simple silver hoops and a few knuckle rings. Not wanting to overload on the silver I only wore one bracelet on the arm with the fewest rings. I had originally hoped to wear open toe booties but I figured a backless top was enough homage to the impending Spring season. Instead, I wore my amazing Sakura II heels from Miss Sixty with a ginormous hidden platform. I am so TALL in them!
With a neutral smoky eye, lip-gloss, pre-game drinks, and a vintage boys paisley blazer I was ready to hit the town.
Sarah and I decided to bar hop and check out the drunken masses while we waited for the wasted patrons to call it a night. After a few places we found a good spot and hit the dance floor. We started talking to one guy and he was all right, if not a little boring. I think a cigarette break was thrown in there somewhere so we could hit pause on the impending snooze fest. A Frenchman and his appropriately Irish friend approached me once we made it back inside. Let me tell you, a French accent is super hot. At one point Viva la France and I were have a 3-year-old child’s Spanish level conversation. Leave it to me to be speaking in horrible Spanish in a bar with a French guy during St. Patrick’s weekend. In this midst of all this I decided his name was not stereotypically French enough. I started calling him “Pierre” and “François” and he did not argue. I’m not sure how I got away with referring to him by those interchangeable names but it was hilarious. Drinks were bought, flirtations were had, and we all wound up back at my apt.
You better believe French accents in a bar are nothing compared to French accents outside of a bar. Ladies (or guys) I highly recommend you try it when given the opportunity. When Viva la France started speaking in French I had no fucking clue what he was saying and frankly it didn’t matter.