This summer has been amazing, but it’s the longest season I’ve gone without live music and I’ve got the itch to hear loud rock’n roll performed on a big stage to a massive crowd singing along. 

I want to be lost in that crowd. 

I want to sing along.

This weekend will fix that. It’s Riverfest Elora time. My favourite event of the whole year. I get goosebumps just thinking about it. 

Unfortunately, the goose bumps are now followed with a sense of panic as I come to terms with the fact that I have nothing cool to wear to a music festival. 

I’m not exaggerating. This is a real problem. I’ve officially hit that life stage where I own nothing even remotely on-trend and my mom jeans are actually just jeans worn by me, a mom who has owned these jeans since 2000, the year I became an actual mom. Remarkably, they don’t fit me anymore. Weird.

Since leaving my day-job, I practically live in jogging pants and hoodies. It’s a look I describe as “I care, but not enough to try harder.” If the top matches the bottom, I’m good to go. I realize now, especially when I go into town, that I should opt for the “try harder” goal, and by “should” I mean I don’t, but I am aware that I should.

It’s remarkable that the Carpenter can resist me, frankly. Every morning, when I emerge from the house to find him enjoying his morning coffee outside, he has to watch me patter past, walking the dog, wearing my saggy Roots jogging pants, that are now void of the waist string, giving the allusion of falling down, matched with a frumpy sweater. Pair that with white socks and plastic coral sandals and oh baby, hot girl summer voila. 

Sometimes our eyes meet and there is a silent nod (because I cannot speak human until after I walk the dog and consume a cup of coffee). But I can read his mind. I know what he’s thinking to himself: “There goes the love of my life. I chose well.” And he’s right. He did.

I know what he’ll wear to Riverfest: a Seattle Seahawks ball cap (he does sleep in it), a pair of damaged shorts with lots of pockets, so he can store his phone, tools and goodness only knows what else in them, plus a fresh new Riverfest Elora volunteer shirt. Show off.

I have outgrown or destroyed my previous years’ Riverfest Elora concert shirts because I wore them out. I had quite a collection. I even recycled my son’s shirts when he outgrew them. I just couldn’t part with a Riverfest shirt.

I know what you’re thinking: buy a new one. Easy for you to say. I’ve budgeted for one merch item: a festival shirt or a Matt Mays tour shirt, because he is the act I want most to see. I’ve been listening to him on repeat to prep my vocals, you know, in case he wants a back-up singer. 

Now do you see my fashion stress? What if Mays spots me harmonizing in the crowd and calls me up on stage? I’m gonna need a cool outfit. It could happen.

I might dust off my cowboy hat because the Recklaws might also need me. It’s good to be prepared. I’m in my country-phase, so I’m confident I can keep up. 

Friday night. Riverfest Elora. 

Looking like me, but feeling like a rock star. 

Can’t wait.

WriteOut of Her Mind