You may come from the kind of family that dragged you to craft fairs when you were younger, or you may be the kind of person who inflicts that sort of pain on your own children - I've been on the victim end of the craft fair circuit for so long that I hardly recognized my voice when I agreed to go to the Westport Craft Fair today.
But it's Westport, casa de Paul Newman and Greenwich's cooler, slightly less drunk cousin. So I figured they'd do the craft fair up right. Make scarves out of gold or something. Bobble-eyed elves whittled out of black market ivory and jade. Cool, legally questionable stuff.
But no. It was in a high school (Staples High School had banners pronouncing them State Champs of sports most high schools in Connecticut don't participate in, like skiing, curling, and skeet shooting) and had all the usual stuff. With the noticible exception of, wait for it, wait for it...
crafts. Seriously, not alot of things that could actually be considered crafts. Lots of jewelery, clothes, even some fur coats (I know it's Westport, but hello! 80 degrees outside, people!) and some arty glassware, lamps, vases, ceramic dishes, customizable frames, but nothing really random. OK, bottle caps turned into super arty magnets and car hoods turned into musical cartoon characters are cool, but a craft doesn't count as a craft if it's going for 600 dollars.
Anyhow, am reading Little Children today, almost done with Freshman, which is really funny and much weirder than I expected, though also painfully spot-on about what Yale can be like (minus the vampires... I think).
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1 comment:
guess what? my dad attended staples high school.
congrats on finishing the pilot, too!
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