THE SCENE, PART II Let’s continue on with my tale of the fashion scene in Austin: Fashion had clearly existed in Austin for decades, but the diverse scene was spread thinly across the city. Suddenly nothing else mattered. SoCo was where it was at. Pink Salon had opened in the block north of the Austin Motel and attracted a wide variety of scenesters as clients. So Gail Chovan moved Blackmail in next door, revolutionizing SoCo window displays. I could always tell when I ran into someone wearing Blackmail – Chovan had the coolest men’s shirts, among so much more. I was virtually a walking billboard for the store (and still have quite a few pieces in my closet). Creatures moved in on the other side of Pink Salon, and the buzz was deafening, especially combined with the charm of Lisa and Steve Dean‘s Under the Sun, the welcoming shade of the Hotel San José, the inescapable delights at Güero’s, and a cup o’ joe at Jo’s. In my estimation, the pivotal moment in the branding of SoCo was when the Just Guns sign came down and the glitzy Factory People opened up shop. Gentrification became both desirable as well as deplorable, and the original businesses that had self-reverentially decided to call South Congress “the Avenue” were up in arms because I had popularized the name SoCo as a district. Though I was hardly the first to use it: Gallery Soco was already open, and Therapy was open in a building called SoCo Center. But it’s true; as my readership read from me week after week, it became epidemic.
PARTY PRO It would have been unseemly for me to appear at attorney Mark Mueller‘s annual party, which changes from year to year, without a phalanx of beautiful people in tow. Well, I really needed a group around me this time for support. I often find myself having to use a cane because I’m unsteady and easily fatigued (I desperately want an antique walking stick that’s black with silver fittings – for the more formal occasions, you know). But my challenge is, of course, to carry it with flair and treat it not as a medical aid but as a necessary fashion accessory. Mark took over the Belmont again last Saturday night, and I remembered all over again why this shindig is one of the best, most interesting affairs: mainly because it’s just for fun, doesn’t cost anything, and has a seemingly endless river of alcohol, entertainment, and activities – but it’s so private that if your name is not on the guest list, you simply won’t get in. This year it was called the Peacock Party, and everyone from the literati to the glitterati showed up bedecked with peacock feathers and other peacock accessories. The balmy air made it feel even more intimate, with so much divertissement – from body and face painting with a fabulous woman, tattoo artists doing both real and faux tattoos, wonderful music from three bands, and an amazing woman, Katherine Skaggs, who does soul portraits. She did mine. I wasn’t sure what to wear to have my soul painted (would she use rollers or brushes?). As we chatted and she got to know me better, she began to add symbols and images to the portrait – reading my soul, as it were. When it was finished, I was awestruck: My soul has brilliant colors, she said, and she expressed it as such. It looked like me … in vivid color, emanating a glow of light and silvery beams. But that’s just how I looked. Your portrait will reflect you. Skaggs’ soul paintings and other artworks can be seen at www.soulpaintings.com and www.starchalicesisters.com. Another memorable evening under the gracious Mr. Mueller, and another terrific party.
This article appears in August 14 • 2009.