Lola Meehan and Tawni Yoko Jones

Shannon Kelley

Lola Meehan and Tawni Yoko Jones

Bellinis and Bikinis

Girly Peeps

Ilive my life according to a very simple ethos: Just because the U.S. Census Bureau designates me as an “adult” doesn’t mean I have to act like one. (Those who know me would likely heartily agree with this statement.) And fortunately, this town is home to quite a solid crew of others who subscribe to a similar sentiment. Sure, we “work” and pay the bills and try to avoid saying “like” 47 times during the course of one sentence, but our inner Peter Pans have proven strong enough to resist even these trappings of grown-updom. All of which is to say, we still like to play. Last Friday night was a perfect example: a party at the recently opened J7 surf shop. Dubbed “Bellinis and Bikinis” (No Boys Allowed!), what it amounted to was the ultimate slumber party. Minus the slumber, of course-some things never change.

We strolled into the shop around 7 p.m. on Friday night to find the first rule of a quality slumber party violated: a boy! However, he was of the Bellini-mixing bartender variety, confined to his station in the men’s department, and thus, allowed. But the rest was pure, unadulterated girly bliss. First and foremost, of course, was the shopping. The store, which has only been open for a couple of months, boasts an inventory that is right on the money: casual S.B./beachwear that’s not too trendy, just very, very cool. And I’ve long said that the most surefire way to retail success would be to serve cocktails-they lower one’s resistance to everything else; the drudgery of maintaining one’s fiscal responsibility is certainly no exception. So, booze: check. (Actually, allow me to elaborate: Pink Vodka was the sponsor that lent the spike to the potent pink drinks, which were served in neon pink cups.) Playing dress-up: check. Add to that the free makeup applications by Tawni Yoko Jones, the hair-styling by Ashleigh Weststeyn, and the huddle of she-folk gathered near the dressing room doors ready to offer their feedback, and I felt like I was 12 again. (Sadly, looking at myself in the mirror in a beautiful blue dress, it occurred to me that my body looks like I’m still 12. Alas.)

After throwing down some Pink and some plastic, we emerged from the estrogen cloud ready to take on the world. Or at least to kick some serious butt in a pillow fight.

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