September in Texas is not fall. It is still summer with a costume on. Load-in at Stubb's or a lawn at Waterloo and you will sweat through whatever cute idea you had in the mirror.
Then the AC hits. Or the sun drops and the amphitheater gets mean. I have sat in a tank top at song one and borrowed a hoodie by song five. I keep a jacket in the car now. I look like I have my life together. I do not. I just got cold once.
Shoes: if I cannot stand in them for three hours on concrete, they stay home. I have retired more than one pair after a night I will not name. Protective style that can take humidity. Makeup that can take humidity. Pride that can take humidity.
Black women have been solving this longer than outdoor venues have been selling $8 water. I am not inventing a system. I am writing it down so I stop lying to myself in August when I pack like it's October.
The fit is for the pictures. The jacket is for the truth.
