This was a pivotal moment in my life. I was about to attend my first rock concert. As a classical musician in training, I had attended many mostly uneventful school-sponsored performances. Catching a cello concertos or opera at Lincoln Center was part of my monthly routine. However, pop music was somewhat out of my realm. First of all, I wasn't much into the music played on the radio at the time. (And thank God for that, because pop music was dominated by MC Hammer and Bell Biv Devoe.) My taste ran towards The Beatles, The Smiths, Led Zeppelin, and The Who. And secondly, no matter how much babysitting I did, I didn't have the money to attend concerts. Hearing my classmates talk about the amazing show they caught at CBGB or Madison Square Garden caused a bit of jealousy, but it wasn't something I lost sleep over. Nevertheless, when Elizabeth called offering me a ticket to see Erasure (forgive me... it was 1990, and English synthpop was big) I jumped at the chance.
Here's what I remember about the concert: We sat way, way up in the rafters. At some point during the show one of the singers pranced around the stage in a pink tutu and combat boots. One of the male singers, I should add. A girl sitting in front of me wore a skirt made entirely out of men's ties, a skirt I continue to covet to this day. And the music was so loud that my ears pounded the entire subway ride home.
Vintage blazer; Hot Topic Morrissey tee; Gap long-sleeved tee; Old Navy jeggings; Kate Spade boots; Target pyramid studs; Forever 21 rhinestone bracelets. |
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