On Monday, Jentine of my edit posted photos of herself in her glitter butterfly shirt, and it reminded me of my own glitter butterfly shirt story, a tale that’s sparkly with a touch of fame.
Two years ago, Kathleen Edwards had a concert here. This was a big deal, as Kathleen Edwards is awesome and Canadian and folksy, and most of the music that you hear where I live is…not (don’t get me started on how much I miss hearing Sarah Harmer, Sarah Slean and Tegan and Sara – hmmm, basically if you’re Canadian and named Sarah, I love you). A few hours before the show started, I was killing time downtown in a vintage/costume shop and who should walk in but Kathleen Edwards and her band!
Normally I would have gone up to them and been all cool (or at least have gone up to them), but at the time I was trying on a glitter butterfly shirt much like Jentine’s (no mirrors in the dressing room so I was out using their communal mirror) and felt a bit, erm, silly. So I hung back, trying to blend into my surroundings (which, when you’re wearing a glitter butterfly shirt would really only work in Liberace’s house), when who should come up behind me and say “Awesome shirt”? Kathleen Edwards! If that doesn’t make us practically BFFs, what does?
I didn’t end up buying the shirt, largely because I was trying at the time to downplay my reputation as ‘the butterfly girl.”* but I keep waiting for someone I know to mention Kathleen Edwards so I can be all cool and talk about how she and I are so tight that she gives me fashion advice. What? It’s sort of true…ish.
*Just to clarify, I was a butterfly girl in a hardcore-entomology sort of way, not a Drew Barrymore/Mariah Carey circa Glitter sort of way.
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