Friday, May 25, 2007
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05/27/07 QUICK: Saluting the days of scratchy polyester uniforms at the Weekapaug Inn

Saluting the days of scratchy polyester uniforms at the Weekapaug Inn By Caren West   I’ve always aspired to live a seasonal lifestyle so I can say things like, “I’m summering in New...

David Rogers putting the final touches on his sculpture installation “Big Bugs” at the Atlanta Botanical Garden. Note: He is not riding the praying mantis like a pony. CREDIT: Courtesy of the Atlanta Botanical Garden

Saluting the days of scratchy polyester uniforms at the Weekapaug Inn
By Caren West
 
I’ve always aspired to live a seasonal lifestyle so I can say things like, “I’m summering in New England this year. What about you, Biff?” Unfortunately, the closest I’ve gotten to such a scenario are my summers in college spent as a waitress at the Weekapaug Inn in Rhode Island. I worked three shifts, six days a week and had to wear a dull blue, scratchy polyester uniform with a white apron, à la Alice at Mel’s Diner.

The inn was more than 100 years old and I’m pretty sure the uniforms were, too. Honestly, I didn’t mind the frock, mostly because I’m a believer that you can look good in anything—as long as you have a tan. I even went to the trouble of wearing a bathing suit under my clothes to maximize my beach time in between shifts. Handy.
 
Those were some of the best times of my life. Most of the staff was in college, which led to a MTV’s “Real World” meets “Dirty Dancing” kind of atmosphere. The girls lived in a structure exotically named “pagoda,” while the guys bunked in decidedly less glamorously named “elks.” Our quarters were separated by the Bomb Shelter—a massive shed that served as our on-site party and lounge spot. Bonfires, skinny-dipping, late-night canoe rides and chain-smoking were the norm. I cherish those memories more than I can ever express.
 
Each Memorial Day, the official start of the season at Weekapaug, I still feel a nostalgic tug calling me back the inn. Like clockwork, I begin to question my existence and wonder if I should’ve become a teacher so that I could free up the months of June, July and August. Then reality sets in, and I have to admit that my aversion to children and educational institutions are more than minor snafus standing in the way of a career in academia.

All of which underscores the fact that I’m no longer a kid on the beach. Now, instead of arranging my day around prime tanning hours and getting macked on, I’m rearranging a mountain of papers and splitting my time between two Macs. Instead of throwing a monster bash at the Bomb Shelter, I spend my days and nights planning public relations campaigns, events and media strategies. Funny how things change. Nonetheless, I can’t help myself when it comes to celebrating the season.
 
Inspired by Memorial Day, memories of Weekapaug madness and Atlanta’s nonstop sunny weather of late, I decided to revisit my summertime college self and switch from public relations planning to sunny scheming. And this is how it’s going to go down:

• Sip on Eclipse di Sol’s newest libation, the mango-jalapeño martini. Sounds a bit odd. But I promise you, it’s surprisingly delicious and an ideal cocktail for a balmy evening.
• Check out UK pop-phenomenon and singing-songwriting wonderboy, Mika, on Sat. June 16 at Center Stage Atlanta. His single, “Grace Kelly,” on his debut album “Life in Cartoon Motion” is causing quite a stir. I prefer bebopping in my car to “Lollipop,” while comparing him to the likes of Queen and Scissor Sisters.
• Lounge on the patio at Inman Perk and drink an iced latte while reading Karen Salmansohn’s “How to Succeed in Business Without a Penis.” Invite my business partner Chad to sit next to me and read Salmansohn’s “Ballsy” and see if anyone notices.
• Hit the Atlanta Botanical Garden on a Thursday evening for “Killer Plants and Kamikazes.” Get tipsy and marvel at David Rogers’ larger-than-life wooden bug sculptures and try to refrain from riding the giant praying mantis like a pony.
• Make the trek to Dahlonega on June 2nd and 3rd for the Georgia Wine Country Festival at Three Sisters Vineyard.
• Take daily breaks from rigmarole and continue summer-fun list in order to maintain sanity and create an Atlanta version of the Weekapaug Inn, sans the blue polyester waitress uniform, of course.

When not attending Atlanta's hottest parties, tracking down celebs or shopping for shoes, Caren West runs her own PR firm. E-mail her at carenwest@sundaypaper.com.

 

Posted by Damien Carlson on Wednesday, May 30, 2007 at 3:02 PM:

Who is this old lady Caren anyway? I swear that every time I read her column on here I wonder who would hire her to do PR? Doesn't anyone around here hire people under 40?