citizen kerry

If I had to describe the Kentucky Derby in one sentence, I’d say it’s a giant costume party where everyone dresses like drunk British people. And if you gave me one more sentence, I’d say: read Rich’s blog post, because he sums it up so well. In retrospect, what could I have expected from a day dedicated to mint julepping, hatting, and gambling? (Let alone what they do to the horses.)

Thanks to Rich, I read Hunter S. Thompson’s piece on the Derby, and I know these observations are not new. As HST put it 42 years ago: “We didn’t give a hoot in hell what was happening on the track. We had come there to watch the real beasts perform.” 

And yeah, Hunter S. is right, it’s a Big Scene, and we’re all there to watch the beasts, but you know what else? It’s also a thrilling and bizarro celebration of life to be somewhere surrounded by people who’ve dreamed of being there. One mass crossing off the bucket list.

I wasn’t as creepy as I thought I’d be, taking pictures of strange women at the Kentucky Derby. Really, I was just annoying to Eric, Kristin, and Rich, who had to deal with me darting off in random directions. (Sorry, guys.) But clearly it was more worth it than not, because… HATS!!!

I can see my future, y’all, and it involves (1) lots of creepy, clandestine, picture-taking of other women’s hats [see above, left], and (2) insecurity about my own hat, which would probably be fine at Coachella, if I ever went there, but not the Derby. I wish Coco were here to tell me how to dress. All that said…

I CAN’T WAIT!!!