Matt and I went to the WOMR music food and wine fest last night, and enjoyed ourselves heartily, as we are wont to do. The music was good, featuring Sleepy laBeef and Country Joe and the Fish (Yes! 3 of the 4 original fish!), and of course the food was outstanding. Although I did miss out on the Portuguese kale soup my Dad was raving about, I managed two heaping servings of grilled ribs from the Brazilian Grille.
But as is always the case, the best part of these functions is the people watching… and believe me, these people bear watching.
It was a healthy mix of the groovy beautiful people in their flowing hippy robes that they’d like you to believe they bought at some craft fair, but that was really custom made for them back in Aspen (Oh, those lovable wealthy hippies…) and the truly destitute, garbed in impossibly faded carpenters jeans and various seafood company t-shirts, intermingled with the musicians, restaurant workers, and schlubs like us.
My vote for best t-shirt this year goes to the dazzlingly attractive 50-ish woman (about 5′ 10″, long black hair, lots of black denim and leather accessories) who wore a t-shirt saying “tell your mother to stop calling me.”
In the land of WOMR/Provincetown, there are so many delicious interpretations to that one…