So last weekend I was visiting a friend in Richmond, Virginia, for a house party to bottle Palestinian olive oil. It turned out that her son in middle school was signed up for Cotillion. As I learned (and those of you from the US south may know this already), this refers to formal dancing lessons. The boys wear a jacket and tie and the girls wear dresses and white gloves. The goal is to prepare them for social events to come, such as debutante balls, etc.
Well, my friend conned me into coming to the cotillion dance for an hour on Saturday night and being the fake mom for a couple dances (it was a mother-son or father-daughter event) because she has a bad knee. I did not have a dress with me. Or white gloves. Also I don't know how to dance, but I learned. But I did have this Trina Turk velvet jacket that I love, love, love, some coated black AG skinnies and blue metallic Anine Bing boots from my last NYC outing.
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