People Watching

The best thing about public gatherings like Cornfest is the people watching.
Yes, I love live music. And yes, I love fried fest food and (overpriced) beer.
But mostly, I love to look at my fellow fest-goers. I’m inspired by the dance moves.
I’m captivated by the fashions. I’m intrigued by the tattoos on display. I’m mesmerized by the public displays of affection. I’m riveted by the make-up and hairstyles.
I’m curious about—well, I’m curious about it all. People are fascinating.

As pen and paper are not to be found, not like I’m going to write on the back of my drink ticket with the edge of my eyebrow pencil, I take mental notes. I capture mental photographs. Some develop quickly, others take many many glances to fully process.
What in the–
Then I compile a collage in my head of how I should attend the next festival.

I definitely need to learn to draw on my eyebrows. How do they do it?! There must be a template to make them match. What do they use to apply them? It can’t be regular brow pencil—I know it would take me approximately six minutes before I’d have smudged it across my forehead. The feathered flying brow look.

Then there’s the hair. I need to both bump-it and skunk the color (half very light, half very dark) AND keep it all fashionable in extreme heat, humidity and downpour. (How do they do that?!)

I need to invest in some short stuff—either skirts or shorts—to best show off my cowboy boots. Or I could go with the leggings. In a floral pattern!

A little bit I’m picking on people, but mostly not. I love the variety–
all shades of color, size, age and attitude.
I’m sure there’s someone (several someones) who take a look at my garb and wonder if I ever dig past the first t-shirt in the drawer. Do I own a brush? And do I even have eyebrows?

But I’m comfortable. And I’m guessing that they are comfortable, too. I don’t want anyone to change, I enjoy the variety of tastes, sartorial, and body types. The eclectic styles are what make people-watching fun.

And I’m pretty sure if I did indeed dress according to the fest-collage, people would be watching me.

Mostly I’ve referenced women here, but there’s always a supply of interestingly attired men as well. Skinny jeans are the equivalent of leggings, sometimes okay, most times not. Baggy below-the-ass pants, well, I’m not sure ladies have an equal to this disturbing style, but luckily it seems to have passed, I only witnessed one or two this weekend. Sleeveless shirts can be a fashion challenge, but they do help showcase bicep art.

Tattoos are distributed evenly amongst men and women, and also body parts.
Sometimes I see real value in their artistry, other times I can’t help but wonder about the story behind the ink.
What in the–

Then there’s always that one guy at every show that dances wildly, usually alone, but occasionally others will join in.
He’s a freak, right? What in the–
Old and crazy, doesn’t care who’s watching. Arms flailing, head bobbing, feet shuffling. He’s having a great time.
It’s never a woman. Why?
I’m going to be that guy when I get old.
Wearing the first t-shirt I grab.


About Mary Fran Says

I am an artist, crafter, designer and writer. I enjoy working with mixed media-- applying visual and tactile manipulations to telling a story. Not a lot of market for that, though, :), so I'm focusing on short story submissions and novel completions. Yes, plural. Lots of beginnings, too many ideas, not enough focus.
This entry was posted in Holidaze, It's all about me, It's all about You and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to People Watching

  1. “I’m sure there’s someone (several someones) who take a look at my garb and wonder if I ever dig past the first t-shirt in the drawer.”
    actually LAUGHED OUT LOUD at this part. From someone who grabs the first hanger in the closet, thanks for the snicker.

  2. I did the people watching at Taste of Madison last weekend with pretty much the same results. However, at Ravinia a few weeks back, the women my age wore long dresses with sparkly flip flops. Very fashionable and attractive. I wore jeans, my Chicago sweatshirt and, because my ankles were cold, pulled on my navy blue socks then slid on my beat-up moccasins. I’m all about comfort, too!

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