Bay's Travel Blog

I don't travel much any more. Resist!

Monday, June 22, 2009

Plaid. Not Plaid.

A week and a half ago, I went to Nashville, stayed in a really nice hotel, didn't sleep much, and went to a hot hotel ballroom at 5:40 in the morning just so I could try out for a game show. I passed the really hard test. This is the second time I've taken such a test, and I have been surprised both times at my non-failure.

Then I waited around for hours, had a great screening interview, and bombed the second, more important audition on video. Eh. C'est la vie.

I'm still holding out a mild snippet of hope to make it onto the game show. Maybe the producers will find me representative of a demographic that they really want on the TV screen. I'm hoping that I am the perfect chubby middle-aged housewife who really doesn't belong on a quiz show but makes it, anyway.

A friend of mine was also in Nashville at the audition, and he has been keeping in touch to see if I get the dreaded sad postcard or the fabulous happy postcard. ("Happy postcard" means you're in the contestant pool; "sad postcard" means they don't want you.)

In a recent note, he called my outfit "plaid."

Now, I don't have trouble with plaid. It's fine for a number of interesting occasions, like chopping down trees and dancing Scottish jigs. I once saw a plaid ballgown on Project Runway that was really good for inducing vomiting, just in case you accidentally ingested some poison.

But I wouldn't wear plaid to an audition. It's not appropriate for my frilly personality.

So this entire post exists just so I can put a scan of my audition blouse on the blog and ask, "Would you, in a million years, ever call that pattern 'plaid'?" Maybe he meant "paisley." Both "paisley" and "plaid" start with the letter "p." Maybe that's what happened. Even though he used the word "plaid" more than once. He's incredibly brilliant and has much more important things rattling around in his head than the names of various kinds of decorative prints.

Can I wear that same blouse if I make it to TV? And if I do, will you all comment on my pretty paisley print?

Thank you for listening to me kvetch and obsess. Y'all are nice blog readers. Now I believe I shall go shopping for some lumberjack gear.


At 22/6/09 5:28 PM, Anonymous Elana in NJ said...

In the immortal words of someone, HE IS A MAN. (Bless his heart) and he wouldn't know plaid from paisley unless he also knew the proper place settings for formal dinners and when its appropriate to wear white. LOL!

At 22/6/09 11:29 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Not plaid, but ugly. If you make it, treat yourself a new outfit.

At 23/6/09 12:02 AM, Blogger Bay in TN said...

Wow! Don't hold back, Anon -- say what you feel! I happen to disagree with you about the prettiness of the fabric, but I do agree with you that I should treat myself to a new outfit if I make it to NYC. I can't help but shop in the meantime, and I'm awfully fond of Eileen Fisher's things. Have you seen 'em? Delicious!

And you know what? The more I think about it, the more I agree with you. I should've worn one of my trampy camisoles with the variegated panels of color and pattern. I could represent the middle-aged chubby tramp demographic so much more believably!


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