First of all, if you recognize the title of this post as a lyric to a Soul Asylum song we either already are friends, or should become them fast. Upon photographing the last image pictured, I was instantly bummed to see how overexposed the shot turned out. However, the more I looked at it, the more I began to believe this accident was a blessing in disguise. I actually quite like the white, "wasteland like," background this error created. With the addition of the fingerless gloves, I feel like this picture could be straight out of one of the many post apocalyptic novels I entertain myself with. Who knew the end of the world could look this glamorous?
Going back to the topic of Soul Asylum, winter is now upon us and often it's this time of year that I get the urge to start buying music. I find myself wanting to hole up in my house where it's warm. I long to put on my headphones and daydream away the everyday adult stresses we all have to endure. I remember back in high school when albums were released it was a big event. Several times my friends and I would drive to the nearest record store on the exact release date of an album. I even remember attending a midnight release party for a Peal Jam album where myself and many other high school and college aged individuals stood in line outside of the store excitedly bonding over our favorite PJ tunes, images, and memories.
I miss these times of bonding with complete strangers over our passions for a lyric, a guitar riff, or a certain enthusiastic "HEY!" or if you're Jim Morrison, "YEAH!" in a song. I miss being in a record store and smelling the incense, hearing the clack, clack, clack as people flip through the CDs, seeing the fantastic images of icons I adored plastered all over the walls, and lastly trying to catch the attention of the cute long haired dude working the check out counter. I recall one of my favorite record stores in Fargo, ND set up standing ash trays all around the store allowing people to smoke while flipping through their amazing vinyl collection. This particular store was one of my favorites because it contained a bead shop as well. One could go there to pick up Pink Floyd, the makings of a new necklace, and in the process smoke and loiter with like minded people. For a college aged art major, it was heaven.
Alas, this kind of establishment is a nonexistent thing in the age of downloading music. There are no more midnight album release parties. Stores no longer collage their walls with rock god posters, and I dare you to even try to light up a cigarette outside of a record store these days. One is likely to be lectured on the street. The times have definitely changed, but the music thankfully remains and can always transport me back to these memories I adore.
I recently went back to the site of that Fargo record shop. Sadly, it's now a comic book and gaming store. Interestingly enough, there was still a long haired dude working the check out counter.
Jeans: Silver Jeans
Purse: Gift made by my Mom
Fingerless Gloves: Columbia http://www.columbia.com/
(Do to the rather challenging temperatures outside, Little House of Haute will only be posting on Sundays until further notice.)