Let me tell you a story about this raincoat.
It was pouring in the afternoon (duh, Vancouver) but Avry and I managed to run our errands nonetheless, all without the much-needed aid of an umbrella. First stop was Service Canada to get my passport renewed, then Zulu Records to grab two Mac de Marco tickets, and finally Salvation Army.
Picked up a garbage bag full of stuff for $80, including two very cool men's jackets, a see-through white negligee, and this raincoat.
Then, TRAGEDY STRUCK (and kept striking well into the evening).
By the time we ran back to the apartment, it was already 6 PM, and I had a fashion show (hosted by Vanstyle) to go to by 7:30! "Okay, Sunny, you can do this," I reassured myself as I stepped into the shower. I was entirely soaked from the rain because my idiot brain didn't think of wearing the raincoat right after purchasing it, I had no makeup on, and I still didn't know what I was going to wear.
I had the quickest shower that was ever known to man and Avry blowdryed (blowdried? blewdried? whatever) my hair while I put on makeup. Thankfully I had a go-to dress and a raincoat to throw on. The sticker was the final touch.
Okay, are you still with me? Because EVEN MORE TRAGEDY OCCURRED.
I was packing my Rilakkuma bag with essentials when I realized that my expired passport was not there. It wasn't in my bag, it wasn't in my other bag, and it definitely wasn't in the apartment. Because, guess what, it was at Service Canada, probably still sitting on the desk where I left it earlier that day.
I started hyperventilating and Avry panicked because he saw how upset I was. You see, my friends, I don't have any ID for reals. My passport is my only source of identification. If I ever get mugged on the street, nobody will be able to identify me apparently. And also bouncers are d-bags about ID so you can see my dilemma since the Vanstyle Anniversary Fashion Show II was held at Caprice Nightclub. Yup, 19+ venue.
The panic attack subsided and then I was in reconnaissance mode. I called Nicole (one of the girls organizing the event) and Avry called his mom for a ride (yes, we don't have a car and plus, he doesn't even have his Class 5).
When I arrived, the answer was "no" even though Nicole did what she could. I thanked her, wished her luck, and left.
"F--k the haters! I'm going to American Apparel to drown my sorrows in retail therapy! Wait, I'm broke..." were my thoughts as I stomped down Granville. Suddenly I heard a snide remark that I knew was directed at me: "Why is that girl wearing a garbage bag?"
In my frustration, I became The Sassiest Bitch in the World and spun around, stared him down (he was among a group of friends, all white, all male, all... smoking weed in front of American Apparel), and said in a loud, clear voice, "This is a raincoat. But do you know what a garbage bag is? What you're wearing right now."
He looked taken aback. Clearly he was just joking with his friends, having a chill time, chatting it up, doing guy stuff. But he chose the wrong thing to say at the wrong time, and right now, I was ready for a throwdown. Of words. 'Cause I can't really fight... I'm like 100 lbs, seriously, gosh.
He stuttered as he tried to retort: "But, ah, why does it look, uh, like a garbage bag?"
"You know what else looks like a garbage bag?" He tried to respond but I didn't even let him finish. "Your face, and guess what? It seems like you're okay with that."
I walked into the store, muttered "fucking assholes" loud enough for the guys to hear, and the girl at the counter was like "Yeah, he doesn't know anything at all."
"Yeah. They're all just smoking weed outside American Apparel, like, how good can their life be right now?" I laughed.
This was the best moment of my life. Being able to shoot down someone who just made fun of you is the best feeling in the world. It almost made up for the fact that I couldn't get into the show. You might think I'm a vindictive bitch now but, hey, maybe in some ways, I am. But, hey, that guy was an asshole. Oh, my God, I can still remember how he looked when I turned around and told him what was what. You had to be there.
Now let me tell you another story. A good one. One that will make you feel fuzzy inside. Maybe.
I met Nelson at American Apparel tonight. He's from Australia, where they have places that sell fake ID's that you can Google. He said that Vancouver should have some too. I had no idea. He's only been in Vancouver for five months and he pretty much knows more about it than I do. Right. Nelson also helped staple my bag together. Yep, my luck was so bad tonight that the zipper on my bag ripped off. Well, check out his Instagram, say "hi".
Then I got the call that Nicole's friend talked to the manager and I was allowed in. Caprice wasn't even serving alcohol at this time so I have no idea why this was ID-required.
I had just missed the first show, but I caught up with some girls from Brandy Melville. Fellow blonde Asian blogger Rachel was also part of media tonight so we sneaked to the end of the runway and shot photos. She makes me miss being blonde, but she pulls it off way better than I did. She's also the Visual Manager at Brandy. Girl runs the world.
I just want to thank Nicole Wong for getting me in as media for Vanstyle's fashion show tonight! And great job to everyone who organized it. After the show, I walked over to the bus stop on Seymour and bumped into a stranger who became less of a stranger. Another lovely conversation with someone rad. Finally I made it to Chapel Arts and Avry gave me hugs and kisses. I really wanted to go to Fortune Sound Club tonight (seriously, I wish I had another piece of ID) to support a friend but no go.
Now I'm home, writing all this down after taking outfit photos, and also trying to decide what I want for a post-midnight snack.
Thank you for reading. The photos from the fashion show will be up within a week.
This has been Miss Fresh Garbage Bag Blogger from the 604, yo, holla at yo girl.