I experienced a bad case of culture shock during my first move to Florida in 1991. Like pouring ice cold water over a sunbather’s burnt butt, south Florida jarred my senses with its insouciance, heretofore thought only possible on la Rive Gauche. Or sixties Soho.
Mike took pains to assure me that I did not need to dress nicely when we went out to good restaurants and concerts. And he was right; there was no costume de rigueur. Anywhere. Folks turned out for functions both in black tie and redneck wear: torn jean shorts and tank tops. A southern girl, I was raised in a barn but not really raised in a barn, if you take my meaning. Georgia may be the heart of the deep south, but gentility lives still in Texas. Or did, when I was there last.
Well, I’m happy to report that there are pockets of civility in south Florida, where wearing white after Labor Day is still not done. Of course I had to find out the hard way.
Desensitized to all things fashion, I donned a bedazzled blue and green top and white capris with white sandals, also festooned with little dots of shiny doohickeys designed to catch the light, for a party Saturday night. You could say that I stood out, since every other woman there was wearing black and red. Oh, the hostess wore jeans and a dazzling t-shirt, but other than that, black and red. Sort of like I picture Kim Jong Il’s funeral.
It was humbling. But after enough food and drink, sort of funny. It was a lovely party; good friends, good food and fine wine.
I wrote to Bonna yesterday:
Attended a party last night where I threw caution to the wind and drank like a fish, even though I’m not supposed to – and ate fat! Subsequently I feel like something carried in on someone’s shoe. Then this morning we had to drive an hour [my head throbbing] to attend a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese! Holy moly!
Home again, home again, jiggity jog. Going to bloody well stay here for awhile, too. And make some soup…
Chuck E. Cheese is where sanity goes to die. Then a giant rat comes out and pretends to sing. It was hideous, but I do love that kid.
I made the soup, beef and barley, and licked my affected wounds.
The moral of this story, if there is one, is never assume. Or is it never throw caution to the wind? Or maybe Florida really is part of the South?
Image by kelsey3_8.
19. December 2011 at 12:42 pm
isn’t that Hol E. moly?
love that definition of a southern girl – yuppers, nailed it.
proposition
coming soon. put on your adventure hat gurl 
19. December 2011 at 12:47 pm
That’s sorta kinda driving me crazy, in case you didn’t know!
19. December 2011 at 5:45 pm
I just got the joke, Patti! Hol E. Moly!
Yep, I’m slow…
19. December 2011 at 12:50 pm
Not a thing in the world wrong with red and black girlfriend. See below.
http://today.ttu.edu/wp-content/uploads/2009/08/double-t-lg.jpg
Would have loved to have embedded that image but I wouldn’t know how.
davek
19. December 2011 at 12:52 pm
Red and black do rock!
I just felt a wee bit out of place!
19. December 2011 at 12:52 pm
that’s why i poked
19. December 2011 at 12:54 pm
Of course!
19. December 2011 at 5:41 pm
Down here we call that insouciance the Keys Disease…
19. December 2011 at 5:47 pm
Maybe not to such a drastic degree, but the rest of south Florida is eaten up with it as well.
20. December 2011 at 1:13 am
I’ve had my share of business wear and semi-formal wear. I’m long retired now so my formal wear is clean jeans and shined boots. I will usually have an Apache Scarf, bandana or silk wild rag around my neck, though.
Now I really like southern girls but my Momma was a Kansas girl. Matter of fact I had to go plumb to Texas to find a Kansas girl to marry.
20. December 2011 at 8:19 am
My husband had to go to Chicago to find a Texas girl to marry!
[The Texas girl, upon returning to Houston after a long weekend in Chicago, kissed the tarmac after deplaning and vowed never to leave the state again. We see how that played out...]
20. December 2011 at 9:53 am
Chuck E Cheese was invented to drive parents insane. I hate that place.
20. December 2011 at 9:57 am
If I hadn’t been so dadgum miserable the look on parent’s faces would have been all the entertainment needed. Some looked trapped, some constantly looked toward the door, checked their watches… but then a few actually got into the spirit of the thing and played games.
21. December 2011 at 5:59 am
I have managed to avoid all things Chuck E. Cheese. I did spend some time with Wile E. Coyote, away back then. Does that count for anything?
21. December 2011 at 8:30 am
No, sorry. Must be a veteran of the Chuck wars.
21. December 2011 at 10:13 am
The one and only beauty of the Chuck wars…somebody else cleans up the mess!
21. December 2011 at 10:16 am
That’s the truth! And after 50 kids have played and eaten and flung stuff… yes, they could charge twice as much and it would still be a deal!