Here’s a quare one.
Sport Damoand I partook of Tommy Tiernan’s excellent new show the other night in Vicar Street (much, much better than when I saw him last a couple of years ago. I cried laughing three times and Damo did turn to me at one stage and in all seriousness said “I think I’m going to wet myself” I shuffled a little further to the left.)
That’s not what this post is about really. I love watching other people. In cafés, on the bus, just walking on the street. Damo has a bit of that in him too. The other night we noticed a strange trend in Vicar Street.
Most of the patrons were dressed as you would think for a Sunday night comedy gig in a cold, wet Dublin. Jumpers, tops, jeans, skirts, the usual. But in the crowd there was a small subsection, possibly no more that 2 or 3% of the women there, who looked like they were dressed for a night out at a high society ball, a night in Kristal (or however the feck you spell that!) or a gangster’s moll convention. They were so out of context with everyone
One girl was even in a gold backless dress. Seriously. Not that I’m saying you can’t wear whatever you like whenever you like of course, just that it was such a blinding clash of contrasts as to be easily noticed by fuzzy headed me on a cold, wet Sunday night in Thomas Street.
I have no idea where this was going or even if it deserved to be a post.