The Tailor from London

Where did we leave off? Oh, yes.

I was telling you how I was going to see my new friend Carver Jones and his band play a venue in Brooklyn.

Saturday morning I woke up, went to the gym, came home, showered, and packed so fast because I almost always miss the train. This time I brought only a backpack, which is crazy because I usually bring a suitcase for one night and pack not a single thing that I end up wearing. And again, whatever I packed was not what I ended up wearing.

I brought this cute little black dress and brown cowboy boots, but I realized as soon as we got in the elevator that the boots weren't comfortable enough. And I brought this cute hat I wanted to wear, but it just didn't work with my outfit. So, we ran back inside and I put on my sister's jeans, her white tank top, my Converse, and my cute hat. So much better.

The show was so great! They killed it! It sounded so good I was like, woah.

Then after the show, the band and I went to this bar. I have no idea what it's called, but there is another of the same bar in Nashville (if this information helps).

I met a man named Elliot, a men's suit tailor from London. He was good looking, had an accent, and wanted a kiss. I'm a smart girl though. I saw right through his B.S.

Buy me a drink, entertain me a bit, then talk to the hand, buddy.

With danger & grace,

— Girl Hazard