Not long ago, I made it my mission to attend my first ever book launch party– not to be confused with the time I attended the first ever book event for Chaos Theory by Nic Stone earlier this year.
This time, the event was for Everybody’s Favorite by Lillian Stone, a comedian publishing her collection of essays. Since the collection was an homage to early 2000s cringe, a prize was being awarded to the most Y2k outfit. I wanted to look chic and fabulous for my first ever book launch party, but decided to embrace the theme.
My low-waisted, boot cut jeans are in storage and probably haven’t fit me since the seventh grade. Also, my ruffled skirt from Justice that I would have worn over my flared, boot-cut jeans wouldn’t have fit either. It’s moments like this that I wish I had a pair of crocs and a juicy couture track suit, two things that I’ve never wished for before. My knowledge that there is photographic evidence of me wearing these styles is one of the few things keeping me humble.
Full disclosure, I was busy being born in the early 2000s and only have very vague memories of the fashion from that decade, but much of it spilled into my middle school days in the early teens. These vague memories include, but are not limited to, headbands tight enough to give headaches, barrettes aggressively holding down my side part, my CD player playing nothing but Kidz Bop, my iPod nano playing nothing but Katy Perry, and my PEZ dispenser keychain on my backpack maintaining my popularity in elementary school.
There were a lot of options for what I could wear: apple bottom jeans with the boots with the fur, lips gloss that’s cool, lip gloss that’s poppin’, and whatever it is that a Hollaback Girl would wear (I’ll be here all week folks).
When the time came, I parted my hair down very far to the side, slathered on some lip gloss and frosted eye shadow, and hit the town, arriving garishly dressed downtown. Since the book launch was for a collection of essays written by a comedian, the event was a series of comedians performing their routines and other humorists that were doing readings of materials that were on theme. They covered topics such as: traveling to other countries, female orgasms, the sexual repression of the early 2000s, what it means to be an American (also in the early 2000s), and so much more.
One piece, entitled “Hot Topic, from the perspective of my mom,” was particularly hilarious, as she referenced the satanic, but simultaneously atheist ouvre of Hot Topic, designed to terrify all mothers of teenage girls. Another referenced the fact that while in England, he got his money reimbursed when the train was late and noted that if New York City had that policy, the MTA would owe him $30,000. After the week I had, I could have purchased a new apartment.
Each time I introduced myself to someone, they informed me that they liked my name. One even told me that I had the name of “a 1960s French mermaid,” a compliment I will never forget.
Two women told me that they understood what I was going for with my early 2000s outfit. I was pleased, since I was dressed like one of the Bratz dolls I was still playing with during the actual early 2000s.
I bought a signed copy of Hysterical from Elissa Bassist, who read aloud one of her pieces as well (she was the one with the female orgasms). I have since read her book and am declaring it the must-read book for hysterical women everywhere. When she signed my copy, she said that she couldn’t wait to be a fan of mine as well, by reading my blog posts (Elissa, I hope you’re reading this).
I also bought a signed copy of Everybody’s Favorite by Lillian Stone herself and have since read it as well. Her commentary on the early 2000s is pitch-perfect with many astute observations about growing up as a girl and the insecurities that you might face during her childhood as a result.
I arrived home around midnight, mentally-preparing to drag myself out of bed for work the next morning, while I scrubbed off my Y2k makeup.
The Tragic Queen,
Raquel
The Tragic Queen 