I love hats when I travel. You never know when you might have fucked up the adapter situation and rendered your hot tools useless. (I may have done this in China. My man and I broke a bed there too.) But this isn't about wearing hats or breakin' beds bonin'. It IS about when I headed to Europe with my sister a few years back with her gaggle of eighteen year old christian school kids. (No, I won't be talking about how on this particular trip I peed in the sink on the train to Milan stone cold sober. You'll have to buy the book to hear that one.)
I was highly amused when our Englishman tour director looked in my direction upon arriving in Paris and told me I looked 'kinky'. Or maybe my wardrobe was kinky. Either way, it made me feel like I'd done what I'd set out for: to not look like an American Douche bag traveler. And I did it all with one small bag. I had managed to turn my luggage into a clothing clown car. I didn't want anyone thinking I was an Ugly American.
an American who behaves offensively when abroad.
*I heard that*
My sister got pissed at me when I failed our French class before we left. (Nothing would matter after we spotted Taye Diggs butt by that big cathedral by the river in Paris anyhow. But we had yet to know that our lives would soon be seriously impacted for all of eternity.) "Relax dude, I'll put on bright pink lipstick and show a little cleave. We'll be fine." And ya know what? We were. Those French dudes loved them some American Mandy.
(I've always been under the impression that a well-done lip can get you through most sticky situations.)
So that became my thing. Playing Dress Up for travel. (Don't even act like that doesn't sound fun.) Now when I know in advance that I'll be headed out on an adventure I curate a wardrobe in advance. BECAUSE WHY THE FUCK NOT.
And I want that shit documented, because travel is my new trophies. Fun is the new 40 don'tcha know?
It's work if you aren't having fun.
THIS IS HOW I ENTREPRENEUR