Clubbin' Like a Mormon

I used to love to dance and club in college and even a little after college.  The former husband and I danced a time or two in our dating period and really enjoyed dancing at the few weddings we attended.  Once kids and more kids arrived, the dancing dwindled...and stopped.  I didn't realize how much I missed it.  But I never felt the impulse to get out of the house or step away from the kids and go "clubbing" with girlfriends.  I had a lot of acquaintances who did it.  I'd follow their posts of the events on Facebook and be thankful that my natural tendency at that time was to hunker down around the hearth.

Then my marriage ended....  So did some hearth time.  I still light a fire and curl up with a book or the laptop, but too much hearth time...right now anyway.. a bit painful.  I remembered some of the most passionate and amazing men in my life found me on a dance floor.

I would describe myself as an 'Outgoing Introvert'.  I am sufficiently introverted enough and sometimes I have to force myself to go out and mingle and converse with new people.  But once I do go, I usually make a great time for myself.

Through a friend of a friend I launched myself into the LDS mid-singles crowd. This is generally SLCs 31-45 rapidly expanding single Mormon social niche.   Some people here are devout Mormons, some are loosey-goosey about it all as reflected in their drinking status and attire. All of them are super welcoming and nice.  Last night I was invited to hit a SLC dance club with a group of them.

What in hell-fire does a middle age single Mormon woman desiring to be modest wear to such a thing?!?

I have two words - LACE... and wait for it...WAIT for it.... CAMO.

 I mostly wanted to build my outfit around this insane pair of lace heels I picked up for the last social gig I went to.  And maybe something to match the purple nail polish I'm wearing this week.  I've never been one to consistently paint my nails, but since moving from rural Vermont to SLC, I guess I've become more urbanized.  I pretty much have colored outside the lines my whole life - no knack for fine motor skills - This is a problem when one likes to wear black, purple or gray on her nails.  I've never had patience to paint my own nails and usually splurge on the infrequent manicure.  As a teen, I would have rather hopped on my bike or grabbed my skis when my friends were likely learning the craft.  I got brave and more patient this week and started doing my own for the first time.  Bravery + patience = results.  Ahem..Not only with nail polish.  I'm now a big girl who can color inside the lines.

So what does a hippy / conservative / slightly tacky Mormon girl from Vermont do when the only KNOWNS of the evening are a pair of white lace heels and purple nail polish and a mission to dress modestly but still fake people out into thinking she's cool?  You stinkin' GUESSED IT!  She hawks CAMO Capri pants.

 

Then I tossed on whatever clean long sleeved T-shirt I could find.  Ironed it for like 6 seconds, and boom, I had an outfit.  I felt like an elegant misfit.  Elegant only because of the shoes and nailpoish.  And maybe because the camo pants were actually Donna Karan ($30).  I should be a friggin' fashion blogger.  Don't worry, I won't quit my day job.

So with some fervent FB texting with some new girlfriends prior to going...about attire and coordinating arrival time for our safety - some of us were arriving close to 11pm - I walked into this place alone after all.  (my thoughts as I pulled up and walked in..."GAWsh, what was I thinking?  Maybe it's not too late to back out?  Does it smell smokey?  If it does, I'm bailing.  Yuck, what have I signed up for? Listen to THAT music?  I can't dance to this! Wait, is this a bar? I don't even drink!)

The girl at reception asks for my ID.  REEEAALLY?!?   I'm starting to like it here.  Maybe I will stay.  The staff seems really nice and smart. Maybe the camo, lace and purple threw her off.

I walk in, find my friends who I've known for about 5 minutes and they introduce me to some new ones.  I dance one song with a mere head bob while I still contemplate an escape and check my watch as well as a very scantily clad woman who is owning the dance floor.  Her heiny was also totally hanging out of her dress.  A survey of the scene made me grateful for dress standards and gratitude that I enjoy wearing clothes - including sleeves.  A new male friend catches me plotting an escape and suggests confidence is all that's needed to loosen up and bust a move.  Was that what I think it was???  A CHALLENGE? To a woman who shoes up in lace heels and camo capris?  What went through my mind was this....

Then I see it... a PLATFORM designed for the Uber confident.  I grab the wrist of one of my new friends. We climb onto it.  We are in the air.  We never leave the sky.   I gave myself a curfew of 12am.  I stayed until 1.  The same male who upon my arrival suggested all I needed was some confidence, found himself calling me a 'freak' on the dance floor 30 minutes later.  And that he liked it.  Mission accomplished.

Uptown Funk was the smash hit of the night, bringing out even the most reclusive souls onto the floor.  I have a soft spot in my heart for that hyper-annoying song.   The music was awesome.  I had a blast.

Ciao!