If whatever you do on New Year’s Eve foreshadows what you’ll do for the rest of the year, I’ll be trying to fancy up old resale clothes with over-the-top cheap jewelry. Sounds about right.
Nick and I watched the ball drop from a lumberjack-themed house party complete with outdoor tarp tent. I consider this 10 steps up from a bourgie Uptown club party with all-you-can-drink shitty champagne and just one step down from being asleep in my bed. So it was good.
Obviously flannel is pretty much required at such an event, but I decided if I didn’t get to dress up I’d still go dripping in gold.