CLASSY TRASHY TIME

by Elizabeth Drennen
photos by Arden Photography

Roll out the burlap carpet, and get ready to score—costumes, that is, at the YP Birmingham’s “Classy or Trashy,” which was held last Thursday night at The Club. The costume contest, wherein local young professionals were able to showcase their talents by dressing in either ultra classy or sumptuously trashy attire, was won by a “truck stop chic” clad citizen, Allison Ivey (whose honey-colored, mullet wig, cowboy boots and denim mini skirt drew the most applause) and Jackie Ingram, wearing a David’s Bridal jade hued bridesmaid’s gown- welcome to the Emerald City! Spearheaded by Amy Lemley Bailey, Courtney Gleysteen, Ryan Graham, Alison Jenkins, Holly Lollar, Shannon Mayock, Ashley Wood and various others, the get-together served an array of sustenance: Cheetos, Twinkies, fried green tomatoes, and chicken fingers, washed down with a signature “Boonz-tini,” a nod to the ever-tacky, gas station libation known as “Boone’s Farm.”

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The event chairs outdid each other, stylistically, by proving their young, professional success hadn’t squelched their ability to put together an utterly tacky outfit. I guess you can take the girl out of the tacky….but you can’t take the tacky out of the girl…or something like that…. Bailey should have won the prize for originality- she wore a dress comprised of a literal trash bag, added a white belt for cinching purposes, and stole the show as the most innovative and trashiest diva in the room. Attired in a pair of blue running shorts and high heels, cute Courtney Gleysteen tentatively announced the costume contest. and its winners, later confiding in me that she was sporting the “promise” ring her high school beau had given her way-back-when, that appeared as the perfect trashy accessory on her middle finger, alongside several other faux c.z. delights, which were being shown off by the handful by partying guests. While I wondered what her once-upon-a-time beau would think of his jeweled statement of forever-after being proffered as an accessory of tacky consequences, I watched the rest of the ladies and gents flit about the scene. Meanwhile, Courtney’s buddy, Ashley Wood, opted for a Kentucky Derby look by wearing an appropriately elegant, short, black and white dress, topped off by a large, black hat. Aside from Carleton Lynch Goforth, with whom I went to high school, she might have been the only truly “classy” part of the costume equation at the entire event. There were some attendees whose attire was suspect— for which look were they striving, and how could one politely ascertain? I “classily” opted not to inquire, and continued to circle the soiree, stealthily taking notes as I watched the evening unwind.
Amelia Maddox (a miniature, blonde version of her eldest sister, Big A), was bopping about the party in a 70’s inspired mini-dress, showing off her tanned calves, drawing the attention of one Pettus Randall, a Tuscaloosa native who, prior to last evening, was last seen about eight years ago, doing the pretzel on the concrete dance floor at Boutwell Auditorium during a cold, February night. In between embarrassing moments when I was insisting they should ‘go out’, arguing they would be the best couple in the town (not realizing that they were, indeed, already on a date!), “Amelia Bedilia” caught me up on her latest career venture. She dedicates her wit and winning ways to a nonprofit, Commute Smart, which helps reduce traffic and improve air quality; one selling point is that two people actually got hitched after sharing rides for a period of time. I guess there’s still hope for those of us singletons who’re willing to hop inside a stranger’s passenger seat- only if it is a foreign sports car with leather (that’s leather, not to be confused with pleather!) seats, right?!
While making my way to the bar, I bumped right into a tall, spectacled gentleman who is a dead-ringer for “Gilbert” on Revenge of the Nerds- also known as Dr. Mark Green on E.R.! Clearly I’ve been watching too many TiVoed programs lately since I was even able to make that visual comparison, but we had a laugh about it, and he admitted he’d been told the same thing a few times beforehand, and is used to disappointing people when they find out he is only Jeremy Touart. Shortly thereafter, I met another interesting gal: a west coast émigré named Shannon Maycock. She’s originally from Honolulu and spins the trials and tribulations of the Johnny Cochrane law firm here in Birmingham as its national publicist. We compared notes on living in L.A.- she hails from Beverly Hills, and I hung my hat in nearby Malibu about a year ago. We’re both eventually ‘going back to Cali,’ but in the meantime, we agreed that the Magic City has as much as- if not more than- La La- land to offer, especially where the gentlemen are concerned.
Ambling outside for a smoke break, and inwardly marveling at how truly taxing it is to socialize with so many tacky people, I happened upon three folks deep in conversation. A brother-sister pair, Ann Gillett and her brother, Doug (alas, no relation to either the Palm Beach clan, nor the razor selling family of the same name) and another, a commercial real estate broker called Jason Stinson, who ended up winning one of the raffle prizes: a bunch of groceries and a grill- perfect for outfitting his recently acquired town home in Inverness! When in between his “2nd home” in an obscure little town in northern Al, Stinson spends time brokering deals for Commercial Realty Services of Alabama and flirts with new friends he meets at even more obscure events- myself, case and point.
The aforementioned brother-sister pair: Doug Gillett and Ann Gillett are both former journalists- she for WWD in Atlanta, and he, for a small- town newspaper in a city far, far away, where there’s no place like home. Now they both work at UAB, and are in no way involved with the editorial industry. Ann was wearing her favorite designer: Francesco Bernardo, whose collection usually envelops only the chicest of the chic—considering he’s a phantom name in the fashion universe. The mysterious Miss Gillett was not at all shy about revealing details of her special, invisible, seam stylist, but a promise is a promise: I’ll never tell.
Towards the tail end of the eve, I was stumbling over and upon more tacky folk: contestant, Laura Collins, who wore, what I would categorize as ‘trailer trash tawdry,” and capped off her best features with a Dixie visor, inscribed with the word “Rebel.” It perfectly accented her cut off shorts and the overly bulky Confederate flag t- shirt with which she attired herself. Pal Emily Bains went the opposite route, choosing a pair of shorts and pearls for her version of what must be labeled as, ‘elegantly stylish’ garb for the young, professional lady. Another equally elegant fille was Leigh Jones, who came straight from work, and accompanied the wickedly workout wardrobed Miss Gleysteen in the manner of being a consummate date.
Whilst puffing on my cigarette, ever so carefully trying not to blow fumes in anyone’s face, and steadily evading the smoke being blown up my…. never-mind, I accidentally flicked a burning ash upon Minor High School graduate and Brookwood Hospital nurse Shea Ard’s dress, which was, amazingly enough, her 10th grade prom dress- How she could STILL fit into it was miracle enough, excepting the fact that this beaded and sequined number would have made Britney Spears turn over in her grave- oh wait: she’s not dead yet – Ard accented her hair with sprigs of Baby’s breath flowers, which were placed about her forehead like some sort of wretched, floral tiara. When the obviously thin Shea won one of the raffle prizes I began to wonder if the contests were rigged….especially since the previously discussed Amelia Maddox was also a winner. Hmmm… Things have a way of working out, don’t they? At the intersection of the authentically tacky and those pretending to be anything but, on an unnaturally humid, August evening, I realized I hadn’t a leg (or a keg) upon which to stand, and decided to pack it up and in, and save the rest of my stories for another Booze-tini filled soiree, provided I’ll be asked back. That being said, I must admit, it was an extraordinarily, albeit tacky, good time, and one which should be had by all, sooner rather than later!