This is going to seem a little abstract, so bear with me. Several times since this project started, I've meant to go an entire day without looking in the mirror. Habit always seems to get the better of me and I don't remember I said I'd do that until after I'd already looked in the mirror three times. Today was no exception, but I did wear a hat while at a party, walking around the east village, eating dinner in a restaurant and on the hour-long subway ride home, without ever seeing how it looked or even what color it was. Knitty pal Eliza gave me an awesome beret at a party we both attended, and fashiony pal Robyn adjusted it when I decided to wear it immediately. Since I trust her taste, I never peeked in a mirror to see how it looked. Even when I passed by a full-length mirror as we left, I turned my head and decided I would just not know until later. I realized as I told Kevin what I was planning to do that in the soft, twinkly-light glow of party-thrower Jen's apartment, I hadn't even been able to tell what color the hat was; it had looked greenish in the light, but so had Eliza's dress, which turned out to be more teal. Even as I write this, I haven't seen what color it is. I'm even about to upload the photo Kevin took, without peeking. I have been wearing this hat for five hours and won't see what it's looked like all night until I publish this blog post. Please note that I don't take myself as seriously as this post makes it sound. I'm just kind of proud of myself for not having succumbed to reflective temptation all night.
And this has nothing to do with the hat, but I should also note that I partied in Allen Ginsberg's old apartment. As in, the exact unit. I bet Bob Dylan was there at least once.