Back in the day, I would get low at the notoriously raunchy Manray in Cambridge, the number one gay dance club in the Boston area. One of my favorite moments was dancing with my friend in front of a glistening, tighty-whitey clad man in a cage, surrounded by hot twinks belting the lyrics to Groove Armada's "I See You Baby," "My name is Gram'ma Funk, y'all! Funky if ya nasty, dahlink! And ya gots t' be nasty!"
Luckily in that moment, the connection between that lyric and my little Brooklynite g'ma didn't fuse in my brain. But in hindsight, I always thought, grandmas all over the world are missing out! Instead of hanging with hot stallions and getting their groove on, they attend bingo nights and quilt shows.
Is there something I am missing about the latter list? If I were to go to a quilt show, would I find older ladies there getting rowdy? Or are these theoretically boring activities the damnation some folks subject themselves to in repentance for the hedonistic ways of their youth?
I followed a group of seniors into the seemingly innocuous visitor center. Ulitmately, 'twas simply a bunch of folks chatting it up and staring at art on the wall. Then I turned the corner and spied a sale of traditional quilted squares, arrayed on tables to the left of the steamy Bolz Conservatory.
An orgy of fabric was displayed there -- squares piled on top of one another were being caressed by strangers willy-nilly. A man looked down at one particular piece, smirked and looked towards his wife, "What'd ya think about this one? Should we take 'er home?"
"Ooh!" she beamed, "Very nice, it will be a nice addition to the collection." Naughty!
Sewell's snowy forest scene "The Cathedral" on the back wall was particularly eye-catching. The methodology of quilting to form landscapes through intricate stitching made me inspired to take up this handy craft. But before I could entertain the idea, an old man caught my eye and winked at me. I'm a newbie to this body language signally shit -- in a time where a person can't even innocently tap their right foot twice in a bathroom stall, what the hell does a wink at a quilt expo mean?!
I freaked out that I'd been tagged by the quilt illuminati and attempted to quell the Eyes Wide Shut visions that raced through my brain by running into the gorgeous, outdoor gardens. Butterflies and children were just as plentiful as foliage out there. Add in some seashells and puppies and the Olbrich Botanical Gardens would have been the pinnacle of innocence. If only I had not known about the debauchers lingering inside...
Quilts in Bloom ends October 7, but other quilt-related fun and events run throughout the month.