Last night I went to an intimate concert that showcased a guitar player who is an heir to rock royalty. This kind of concert is not typically my thing at all atall atallllll, so I was pleasantly surprised when the lead singer did a little Curtis Mayfield.
The event was held in a grand old theatre, original light-up sign, ornate gilt work, carvings, and beautiful paintings on the ceiling and wall throughout.
I dressed for the theatre: gold-and-cream sparkly/patent shoes; deep-v, body-hugging brown-and-white dotted dress; beige linen shawl-collar short trapeze jacket dotted with matte pewter sequins.
My ensemble had a jazz-era vibe, which was all wrong for the concert, a blue-jeans event, but I don’t even own any jeans at the moment, so I did my own thing.
I truly appreciated the artistry of the musicians, though I must confess that during some of the extended guitar solos, I stretched my legs out into the aisle to watch how my sparkly gold shoes caught the light (very nicely indeed!).