The day I photographed the above pictures I was reminded of my obsession with clubs. On this particular afternoon I was at the coffee house enjoying decaf vanilla lattes with my father when I found myself, yet again, exclaiming the sentence, “We should start a club!” For those of you who may not know me, this is a phrase I say almost monthly. Usually I receive a lot of chuckling and eye rolling in return. There's a lot of, “Aww how precious, the 37 year old woman wants to start her own club. Look who’s finally decided to go out and make friends!” At least, I like to think these people refer to my obsession as precious. Otherwise, they just find me pathetic…sigh.
I’ve often analyzed this peculiar proclivity of mine in a quest to discover why a habitually anti-social individual is interested in organizing a GROUP of people to interact with. Is it because I’m lonely? Are the days spent solo, toiling my time away at the library or Starbucks, simply not enough for me anymore? Or is it something deeper? Could it be that this solitary style maven…wait... sorry, I couldn’t help myself with that one. A sweet and incredibly creative acquaintance of mine recently referred to me as a, “fashion maven,” and it struck me as one of the coolest compliments I’ve ever received. Anyway, back to my question, could it be that this thirty-something showboat is still lamenting the awkward days of elementary school when she was rejected from the, “cool club," because she didn’t own the right pair of designer boots? Hey yeah, maybe that’s it! Perhaps I don’t have a problem with buying shoes. Instead I have a problem with feeling like they’re never cool enough to get into the right club! Huh, I wonder if my boyfriend will believe that?
Despite my desperate ploy to justify more shoes, I know this is not the answer to my obsession. I also realize that my interest does not lie in the pursuit of friendship. If it did I anticipate I wouldn't constantly be trying to rope my parents, brother, and already close acquaintances into these arrangements. It took the blunt, but always honest, words of my aforementioned brother to point out my compulsion for clubs comes from a need to control. Apparently, this lady likes to be in charge. Who knew?
At first, I was horrified by this revelation. “I’m a sensitive loner...a self-contained unit...a solo artist...my glamour shots and random ramblings are all the juice I need!” I thought while simultaneously ripping off the movie, “Singles.” However, after some consideration I began to realize, “I guess it's kind of nice to, "really talk," to other people…as long as it’s about the things I’m interested in.” Suddenly, it struck me, “Oh my God! My brother’s right! I’m using, "clubs," to try to force people to watch the bizzaro movies I’m interested in, read the bloodthirsty books I like, listen to the eclectic tunes I’m into, and lastly eat at the restaurants that appeal to me...remember that supper club I started? Think Rayna!…think! Did you always pick where we ate?”
Writing this now reminds me of a time in high school when I was outraged by a close friend’s comment stating, “She really didn’t enjoy hanging out with me anymore because I always had to be in control…even when it came down to choosing a radio station.” I distinctly remember blowing off her statement while thinking, “Well, I do have better taste in music than you.” Now, about twenty years later, I’ve finally come to the conclusion that she may have been right...about me being bossy...not her radio station selections. As a result, I promise I’ll attempt to refrain from asking anyone reading this blog to start a club with me...even though cool people have referred to me as a, “maven.” You know that means I'm kind of an expert, right?
Sunglasses: Roberto Cavalli