**Disclaimer: My lady-o-meter started malfunctioning somewhere around the time I gave birth to a child. If you haven’t laid on a table and popped a kid out of you while a dozen people stand around cheering you on like you’re competing for a gold medal…or if you have shared the experience, and somehow managed to walk out of that room with your poise and grace in tact…you may not understand this post.
That being said, I have to admit that I never understood the phrase, “A lady never kisses and tells”. Why would a lady who had a run in with Prince Charming not want to cash in on her bragging rights?
Last weekend, though, I think I started to understand why a lady doesn’t tell. I had the kind of weekend that could only have been more magical if I had been riding a unicorn. I told my friend earlier this week that I wasn’t even going to blog about it, for fear that it would lose some of it’s magic. I felt like something inside me would die if I threw my weekend out into cyber space, free for all to do with it what they will.
(You think this blog post is about to go somewhere juicy, don’t you? bwahahah…)
For reasons I won’t get into (because they’ll require explanations I can’t get into), I was in Wisconsin for the weekend. You may recall that I’ve developed somewhat of a complicated love affair with Milwaukee. The city always lures me in, but I can never come up with a good reason why.
This weekend gave me a good reason.
My friend and I were anxious to hit the dance floor on Saturday night, but decided to stop at The Iron Horse Hotel for drinks first. I can not emphasize the mistake we would’ve made had we decided against this detour.
In Secrets of a Stylist, Emily Henderson brilliantly combines and then defines people’s style using three descriptive words. As an unprofessional secret stylist myself, I would define the design of the hotel as “Romantic Modern Motorcyclist”. (Please make a point to watch Secrets of a Stylist if you haven’t before, as Emily is fantastic, adorable, and far better at this style stuff than I.)
I’m quite certain there’s not another hotel in the world that provides the opportunity for people to sit in velvet armchairs on a persian rug watching someone swing in front of our flag. THE FLAG HAD A SWING IN FRONT OF IT!! God bless America.
Here are a few challenges I faced in this hotel lobby:
- Since hotel clients include people like Bill Walton (who walked through the lobby shortly after we arrived), I had to muster up every ounce of lady within me and fight the urge to jump on that swing and squeal like a school girl while pumping my legs high enough in the air to touch the ceiling with my feet.
- I mentioned that we were on our way to go dancing. As it was, I was not carrying my camera. My phone had to suffice. Phones do not do a great job of capturing the beauty of black leather in dim lighting.
- Maintaining internet-appropriate material while trying to capture the essence of this lobby was actually quite challenging. (Sounds sketchy, I know. But really, you have to see the place to understand it. Think art. Not sketch.)
And with that final snooty, “You had to be there,” remark, I’ve suddenly realized there isn’t much more I can say about the hotel without destroying it’s magic.
Speaking of, my unicorn just showed up, so I’m going to leave the remaining details of my weekend on my phone and bid you farewell. (I will, however, let those curious minds out there know that these lips have not had a run in with any Prince Charmings for a couple of years. So, no. I’m not just pretending to be a lady by leaving those details out.)