The floor-length fur coat was the look in DC over the inauguration. I have it on good authority that it’s “so Chicago.”
Purple Ticket Turmoil Explained: What Happened On Inauguration Day
The good news is a consolation prize is in the works.
“Perhaps the greatest song ever written about our home….”
I don’t think Woody Guthrie could have imagined that this song would be sung on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial to the new President. Pete Seeger, who rode the rails with Guthrie during the Great Depression, included pro-workers’ rights lyrics that are often left out.
It was such a powerful moment (even though I was cold and tired and cranky).
“Our challenges may be new, the instruments with which we meet them may be new, but those values upon which our success depends, honesty and hard work, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism — these things are old.” ~ President Obama
PS: I really ought to have noted the artists’ names. Sorry.
Post script
My resentment is not just directed at celebs. When M. told me had a green section ticket I’m sure my face went green with envy (um, that would be ON THE STAGE. He had to be cleared in advance by the Secret Service and everythin’).
We were talking on the phone on Tues around 7 AM. I was mildly nuts from lack of sleep and joy and confusion. I was trying to explain to him how crazy the lines were. He kept thinking I was still at our apt. “I’ll stop by and see you on the way to the Capitol,” he said. “What?! No! You need to GET IN LINE. Things are out of control. I can’t even explain….”
Then at around 9 AM, when I was rolling deeeeeeep in that tunnel with 10,000 of my closest friends,* he texted me:
Security took an hour! I only just got in!
I swear to god he’s lucky I ever spoke to him again.
* Which included, unbeknownst to me, my aunt and cousin. The didn’t make it in.
There was a LOT of shameless profiteering off of the inauguration excitement. (Let’s face it, Obama has to be the most merchandised figure since Superman.)
Every shop on M Street in Georgetown had a hope-and-change-themed window display (red, white, and blue tap pants at Tommy Hilfiger; red, white, and blue handbags at Kate Spade). In less swish parts of town, hucksters sold t-shirts, buttons, blankets, (unofficial) programs, and an endless variety of hats. At the We Are One concert, one particularly entrepreneurial guy was selling the hand-warmers that BET was giving out for free. And Pepsi’s ubiquitous “Hope” campaign was just nauseating.
When we came across this shop displaying the now-famous quote about Rosa Parks, Dr. King, and Obama, we stopped in our tracks. It’s bad enough that a clothing store is using the triumphs of the civil rights movement to move merch. But then we heard a girl say to her friend, “Oh, that’s what Jay-Z said.” Renee and I just busted up.
“Yeah,” she snorted, “right after he said, ‘girls, girls, girls, girls….’”
I like a good mobile, don’t you?
It was one of those nights where I posed for nearly every picture with my mouth in that preposterous position. (Two words: open bar. But at least I wasn’t alone.)
Santogold’s backup dancers were the coolest fucking things I’ve ever seen.
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