#vintage jazz t shirt online

[brushandneedles]

Jazz Heritage in Your Wardrobe: Collectible Women's Jazz T-Shirts Online

In the harmonious intersection of fashion and music, the concept of collecting Vintage jazz t shirt online transcends mere apparel, evolving into a cherished endeavor of preserving jazz heritage. This journey delves into the art of curating a wardrobe filled with collectible pieces—limited editions, rare finds, and the captivating stories woven into the fabric of each shirt. It's a celebration of not just style, but a curated collection of musical tales that resonate through time.

The Significance of Women's Jazz T-Shirt Collecting

Women's jazz T-shirt collecting holds profound significance as a visual tribute to musical trailblazers. These garments immortalize the contributions of female jazz artists, weaving their stories into the fabric. Collectors navigate a diverse jazz fashion landscape, celebrating limited editions and rare finds, creating a curated wardrobe of historical and artistic resonance.

A Visual Ode to Musical Legends

Women's jazz T-shirts, adorned with images of iconic musicians and symbolic jazz motifs, serve as a visual ode to musical legends. By collecting these shirts, enthusiasts pay homage to the talented women who have left an indelible mark on the world of jazz. Each garment becomes a canvas that immortalizes the contributions of female jazz artists.

Navigating the Jazz Fashion Landscape

The world of jazz fashion is rich and diverse, with each T-shirt offering a unique perspective on the genre's history. Collectors navigate this landscape, seeking out limited editions that commemorate specific events, collaborations that blend fashion and music seamlessly, and rare finds that unveil hidden gems from the annals of jazz history.

Building a Wardrobe of Musical Tales

Limited Editions: Treasures of the Jazz Realm

Limited editions stand as treasures within the jazz realm. Collectors eagerly pursue T-shirts released to commemorate special occasions, festivals, or collaborations between musicians and designers. Each limited edition becomes not just a garment but a testament to a moment in time—a snapshot of the vibrant and ever-evolving jazz culture.

Rare Finds: Unearthing Jazz Artifacts

The thrill of collecting lies in the discovery of rare finds—T-shirts that may have become obscure over time or are associated with pivotal moments in jazz history. Collectors scour online platforms, auctions, and vintage stores, unearthing artifacts that tell a story beyond the stitches and seams.

Stories Woven into Fabric

Every T-shirt has a story to tell, and it's the duty of the collector to unveil these narratives. The process of acquiring a T-shirt becomes a journey of exploration, understanding the inspiration behind the design, the artists featured, and the cultural context that influenced its creation. The wardrobe transforms into a curated collection of musical tales, each shirt with its chapter waiting to be discovered.

The Art of Curating a Jazz T-Shirt Collection

The art of curating a jazz T-shirt collection is a nuanced endeavor that involves establishing a theme to guide acquisitions and employing meticulous preservation techniques. Collectors infuse intentionality into their wardrobes, creating a cohesive narrative that reflects specific eras, influential musicians, or unique design elements, transforming garments into curated works of art.

Establishing a Theme

To create a cohesive collection, collectors often establish a theme that guides their acquisitions. Whether it's focusing on specific eras, highlighting influential musicians, or exploring unique design elements, having a theme adds depth and intentionality to the curated wardrobe.

Preservation Techniques

Preserving the integrity of collectible jazz T-shirts is paramount. Collectors employ meticulous preservation techniques, including proper storage, climate control, and archival measures, ensuring that each shirt retains its vibrancy and historical significance over the years.

Exploring the Jazz T-Shirt Marketplace

Exploring the Women jazz t shirt online marketplace unveils a treasure trove for enthusiasts. Exclusive online platforms showcase curated collections, limited releases, and collaborations, catering to those with a discerning taste for both fashion and jazz. Engaging with online communities enriches the experience, turning the act of collecting into a collaborative celebration of jazz heritage.

Exclusive Online Platforms

The online marketplace has become a treasure trove for women's jazz T-shirt collectors. Exclusive platforms showcase curated collections, limited releases, and collaborations that cater specifically to those with a discerning taste for both fashion and jazz.

Community Engagement

Collecting women's jazz T-shirts is not a solitary pursuit. Engaging with online communities, forums, and social media groups allows enthusiasts to share their finds, exchange insights, and forge connections with like-minded individuals. It transforms the act of collecting into a collaborative celebration of jazz heritage.

The Future of Women's Jazz T-Shirt Collecting

The future of women's jazz T-shirt collecting embraces diversity, inclusivity, and technological integration. Designers explore new avenues to represent a broad spectrum of voices within jazz culture. Augmented reality and virtual platforms add innovative dimensions, allowing collectors to engage with jazz heritage in dynamic ways, ensuring the legacy of women's contributions endures.

Embracing Diversity and Inclusivity

As the world of jazz evolves, so does the narrative of women's contributions to the genre. The future of collecting women's jazz T-shirts lies in embracing diversity and inclusivity, with designers exploring new avenues to represent a broad spectrum of voices within jazz culture.

Technological Integration

In the digital age, technology plays a significant role in collecting. Augmented reality and virtual platforms provide new dimensions to the experience, allowing collectors to virtually try on T-shirts, explore the stories behind each design, and engage with jazz heritage in innovative ways. Technological integration is reshaping women's jazz T-shirt collecting. Augmented reality and virtual platforms offer innovative ways to explore designs, try on shirts, and engage with jazz heritage dynamically.

Conclusion: Jazz T-Shirts as Timeless Artifacts

In the symphony of fashion and music, Men jazz t shirt online emerge as timeless artifacts, preserving the heritage of jazz in every thread and stitch. Collecting these garments is not just a hobby; it's a cultural journey, a celebration of women's contributions to jazz, and a commitment to ensuring that the vibrant melodies of the past resonate with future generations. Each T-shirt becomes a chapter in the ongoing narrative of jazz history, ensuring that the rhythm of this musical genre endures in the curated collections of passionate enthusiasts.

[blurredblonde]

BUCKET LIST, including the strange, the wild, the weird, and the borderline undoable

Go to a nude beach

spread eagle naked towards the sun

use Pinterest business to do brand links and get any amount of $$ from that alone

go to a pole dancing class

try hot yoga

do a burlesque show in Melbourne

post an animation to youtube

start a webtoon

learn to sew

get an apartment by myself

get an apartment with friends

post a shitty homemade music video in a lana del rey way with the help of friends

get a perm

visit coney island

be 125 pounds

get a the dachshund tattoo

post a vlog like im famous

be a extra in a movie

act in a gay indie movie like norman reedus

go to a gorillaz concert

get a snake

get a record player

meet a sugar mommy

go to a jazz bar alone

get a dressed up like a old hollywood star and go have a night on the town

get my license

own a mustang

ride a motorcycle

go to a mosh pit

go to a rave

get black out drunk

go skinny dipping

publish a art book

own a beach house

get a red gingham bikini

take a slutty picture in a american flag bikini and post it to instagram

go diving with whale sharks

be a art director on a project

do a mural on a wall

complete a painting on an obnoxiously large canvas

make a pop song with no knowledge of music or mixing

work on a big animated film

Do a boudoir photoshoot

party in paris

do a full cosplay

pet a pigeon

get a scuba diving license

explore an abandoned building

kiss a stranger

get in a fist fight

flash my boobs at something

attend a figure drawing class

be the nude model at a figure drawing class

receive fanart of my own characters

create a reel showing school doodles

be the cinematographer for a project

take a history class

be a dive instructor

post a animation meme to a jack stauber song

go on vacation all by myself

have sex

be in a youtube video

go on the video side of omegle

visit japan

go to a film festival

jump off a pier

do a pin-up photoshoot

go to an acting interview

heh

open an online store

do artist alley at a convention

cross country roadtrip with friends

stargaze on top of a car

invest in stocks and real estate

go on a cruise to thailand and thrift there

go to the new york library

visit bora bora

learn to play guitar

draw on the sidewalk with chalk

nurture and take care of a plant

grow my own food

get chickens

join a club in uni

take a pottery class

work out in a gym

surf a barrel

buy a surfboard

meditate for 50 days in a row

travel in a van

fly first class

go on a blind date

buy and fill a photo album book

kiss in the rain

do a thirty-day photography challenge and post the whole thing

explore the woods by my house

go to a ball/masquerade party

host a dinner party

say yes to everything for a day

grow my hair past my ass

become mildly fluent in french

attend golbeins animation workshop

buy an obnoxiously large rug

smell the tomford cherry perfume

get a Brazilian wax

get henna done

go to Brisbane museum by myself

get my i.d

go wine tasting

visit Miami

Meet my online best friend

dine at the ritz

go on a gameshow

do tent camping

win a sweepstake

create a artist porfolio/website

be featured in a gallery

go to okinawa

learn to ballroom dance

ride a horse on a beach/ and or backwards

go to a country club

bake a pie

buy a tourist t-shirt

do a escape room

live in Santa Barbara

stay in cape cod

belly dancing class

get my art viral on tiktok

do a commision

buy a fancy wardrobe

have a room with a slanted roof

sleep in a pool in an inflatable pool

snuggle with nurse sharks

bayonetta mui mui glasses.

go out in a pair of high heels

do a show at a convention

stay at the madonna inn

do lesbian handkerchief flagging in public

do a 'nude' photoshoot

own every sims 4 pack

complete a sims4 generations challenge

play subnautica

swim a motel pool at night

pick a girl from a bar

get a drinks bought for me

smoke a ciggrette

try mixology

get a hickey

have a friend or myself sew vintage patterns

wear a tailored suit

buy real cowgirl boots

bathe in a heart shaped tub

take a rose petal bath

stick a polaroid of myself somewhere public

use spray paint

do a vintage glamour competition

own a house with stain glass windows

go to a cathedral

get pink lace curtains

paint a room

milk a cow

replay Detriot become human

do a live stream

do a lesbian event like a cruise or smth

go to a pride parade

participate on a float in a parade

be a scare actor

act in a play

see a broadway show

shoot a gun

drive a convertible

see lana del rey in concert

do modelling work

do a commercial

buy a sewing machine

drive the road without directions

write a screenplay

submit a film for a competition

pitch an animated show

take a opportunity that scares me

do public karaoke

buy a shitty 2000s camera

get a boat license

buy a boat

go to a random diner

sell clothes on depop

play a drinking game with mates

stay in a hotel with mates

do a draw my life

do a drawing for each section of my Pinterest board

get my fortune told/ future read

buy some mega flare jeans

post a picture of myself to Pinterest/ start a 'me' board

buy some colorful tights

get blue streaks through my blonde hair like aquamarine

drop in on a skateboard

buy a castle

party at Hearst castle

post another fanfic to ao3

dress up in a slutty Halloween costume,its a rite of passage

bake and decorate a fancy cake for someone

[theonewithnodamnname]

a couple years ago i made “character aesthetics” based off of my family and i genuinely can’t tell if they’re bad or not. it might be me just putting my fam on blast 😭

dad -

drunken laughter; bar fights; late-night grocery runs; falling asleep on the couch; not passing the breathalyzer; blowing cigarette smoke in someone’s face; walking on a broken ankle; two-thousand dollars in one-dollar bills; jumping off of buildings; escaping vehicles on foot; skipping school for a party; sneakers that are falling apart; punching someone for fun; getting blamed for everything; flipping off teachers; telling unbelievable yet true stories; feeling your heart skip from fear; play fighting turned real; scamming scammers; kicking someone out who looked good last night; broken trust; edgy comedy movies; annoyed sighs; crying and saying you have something in your eye; petting a subway rat; regretting the past

mom -

simple outfits with extra jewelry; burning your hand; road rage; flipping someone off behind their back; knowing everyone and everything about them; quick showers; football jerseys; lying to your doctor; angry mutters; the smell of a good dinner; tears of joy; reconnecting with old friends; throwing up on someone; gold jewelry; a mother’s love; tapping fingers; loving a movie you thought you’d hate; trying not to judge; getting bored; going days without sleep; taking pills that aren’t prescribed to you; classic horror movies; vintage clothes; wearing the same perfume; tired eyes; sore feet from walking; burning an ex’s clothes; putting a cigarette out in someone’s water; smiling then crying at memories; getting lost on a road trip; sunsets by the forest; snuggling with a pet; warm hugs

sister -

graphic t-shirts; melting ice cream; being thrown around on a carnival ride; 1970s music; screaming at the top of your lungs; appreciating the oldies; running away from home; gardening at 1AM; headphones; a small dog’s bark; cracked phone screens; humming; notebooks with yellowing paper; cherry candies; taking off your heels and carrying them; jumping on the bed; feeling too tired to get up and too awake to sleep; fingerless gloves; swinging on a swing set; the last green leaf in autumn; knowing when you’ve been let down; remembering pieces of a dream; writing down crazy thoughts; marvel comic books; having that one best friend; online shopping; saying you hate someone only to take it back after five seconds; sleeping with lots of blankets in winter; the relief when you find a shoulder to cry on

me -

a wolf’s tracks in snow; finding forgotten songs; horror movies at midnight; whispering too loud; ripped jeans; frustrated sighs; sneaking off; enjoying the feeling of cigarette in your hand but not smoking; breaking fragile things; bottling up your emotions until you can’t; the smell of gasoline; late night road trips; staying up until 4AM; head-rushes; natural long nails; scarred skin; noir movies; cycling through the same outfits; creepy circus music; strange noises at night; full moons; the feeling of being watched; running on three hours of sleep; tangled hair; coffee addiction; stealing forgettable items; finding money on the street; lying through your teeth; 1920s jazz music; dark color pallets; ripping off your nails; listening to rain; putting the past behind you, joking at the wrong time; eventually letting yourself rest

[moonfacerecords]

So here it is (finally!) - the full line up (in alphabetical order). We’re super proud to announce the final line-up of traders that will be present at the fair. We've attached all the social links that we know about as well as a brief bio so you can get a great idea of what will be on offer at the fair on 28th September!

Venue Details

Brentwood Record Fair

Date: Saturday 28th September 2024

Location: Bardswell Social Club, Bardswell Close, Brentwood CM14 4TJ - (5-minute walk from Brentwood High Street and 15 minutes from the railway station).

Opening Hours: 10:00 AM - 3:00 PM - Free Entry for consumers

Food & Drinks: Debz' Delicious Cakes will be on-site. The high-street is close so you can also grab breakfast/lunch there - plenty of options.  

The Stallholders

The Betterdog Records

From: Buckinghamshire

Bio: Betterdog Records, hailing from the wonderful Milton Keynes, are a very established based traders who run a successful and popular online store that also attends record fairs, mainly in the Bucks region. They're making the trek, and from what we understand, their debut in Essex, bringing a fresh selection of excellent vinyl, from vintage to new sealed records, at great prices. Co-owner Amanda previously ran a highly successful London record shop. You can check out there shop / stock here - https://www.ebay.co.uk/str/thebetterdogrecords & https://www.discogs.com/user/thebetterdog

Social media Link(s): Facebook: thebetterdogrecords, Instragram: thebetterdogrecords, TikTok: thebetterdogrecords, X: thebetterdog

Chris Morris

From: Surrey

Bio: Coming from a land far-far-away (Surrey) we have Chris, an independent trader specialising in all kinds of fantastic records. We have been at a number of fairs alongside Chris and he offers a real all-rounded range of titles. A bit of everything, new sealed stuff and vintage. Great prices!

Ed Rug

From: Northamptonshire

Bio: Another coming a long distance for the fair is Ed, or Eddie. Ed stocks a variety of pre-loved vintage vinyl. His stock ranges from pop & rock, prog & psych to soul, jazz & reggae. Generally an all rounder stocking all genres. With 10 years experience in record trading, some of which alongside us, we can guarantee you that Ed’s selection will as always be amazing. If your a vintage collector definitely take a look at this stall!

Social Media(s): Instagram: teddy64lps, TikTok: teddy64lps

Fatmod Records

From: Essex

Bio: Locally based trader offering a wide range of music with a focus on Mod/60s and beyond. Offer a bit of everything, including Metal, Jazz, Reggae (lots of Ska), Female artists, and box sets. Stock both old and new albums, singles, cassettes, CDs, and music-related items like tote bags, dividers, badges, and occasionally t-shirts. Has done pop-up shops and various fairs around Essex, Herts, and Kent, and also sells online (Discogs, occasionally eBay).

Social Media Link(s): https://www.fatmod-records.co.uk/, Facebook: Fatmod Records, Instagram: Fatmodrecordsltd, X: @FatmodR

Glenn Evans

From: Essex

Bio: Glenns stall will offer you a real mix of vintage gems in the form of classic rock, punk, pop and many more. Through selling alongside Glenn at fairs such as the Pink Toothbrush, Southend and Chelmsford we've had plenty of opportunities to browse their stock, and it's always gold! All are in great condition and great prices!

Jim Mallard

From: Buckinghamshire

Bio: Jim is the organiser of the Milton Keynes Record Fair which takes place at the famous Crauford Arms in Wolverton (where some pretty awesome bands play) every quarter. Jim is a Hard Rock / Heavy Metal specialist, but stocks other stuff too. Seriously, if you are a metalhead Jim is your main man. Regardless of whether other dealers are carrying heavy metal classics you will find a range of popular titles as well as obscure gems in there.

Moonface Records

From: Essex

Bio: Your host for the day - Moonface Records (us) - are a travelling record shop selling across Essex, Herts, Bucks, Beds and Berks but have also made appearances in Surrey, Kent and London as well. We specialise predominantly in new sealed vinyl (priced at around 30% lower than the high-street) but also dabble in vintage LP’s, as well as a 7 inch singles, CD’s and cassettes also. Our primary target market is younger enthusiasts, collectors or those curious however we stock to suit all ages overall. We stock new releases and popular must-haves.

Social Media Link(s): Facebook: moonfacerecords, Instragram: moonfacerecords, TikTok: moonface.records

Nilsatis

From: Essex

Bio: Paul’s first record fare was way back in 1982! So if you are looking to buy off a real veteran, here is your man! Paul moved to Essex 10 years ago and remained trading regularly around the area. His goal is to spread the love of vinyl especially to younger people as they are the future. They specialise in a range of goods, most genres - so another all rounder

Owen Pointing

From: Essex

Bio: Owen is the resident local trader - as he lives in Brentwood! He specialises in Soul, Tamla Motown and Reggae but carries a huge range to suit all pockets. Owen is a regular at many of the Essex record fairs and offers some absolute classics!

Phoenix Records

From: Berkshire

Bio: Phoenix Records, run by the fantastic Mike, who co-runs the fantastic Windsor and Bracknell Record fairs in Berkshire. Phoenix boast probably one of the most amazing selection Funk, Soul and Reggae selections i’ve ever seen. Whilst these remain their primary servings they also stock a lot more - so no matter what your taste check out their wares!

Social Media Link(s): https://www.windsorrecordfair.co.uk/, Facebook: windsorrecordfair, Instagram: windorrecordfair

SLAB Records

From: Essex

Bio: SLAB Records, an extremely popular shop in Loughton, Essex, is run by the friendly James and paired with the Sound Lab recording studio, known for working with big names. James also is the host and creator of the excellent Epping Record Fair. We recently had the pleasure of selling in their shop as a guest, which gave us a really good insight to what they have - literally everything. So expect a real mix of amazing vintage and new gems to be in the boxes. You can take a look for yourself here at his discogs shop - https://www.discogs.com/seller/slabrecords/profile.

Social Media Link(s): Website: https://www.slabrecords.co.uk/, Facebook: Instagram: slabrecordshop, Tik Tok: slab_records, X: SLABRecords

Swoonara Records

From: Essex

Bio: Swoonara specialise in second-hand, vintage rock LPs and have been trading for over a year. They have their own radio show called ‘The Vinyl Revival’ which airs every Thursday at 9pm on City Sounds Chelmsford, an independent radio station based in Essex.

Social Media Links(s): Facebook: swoonararecords, Instagram: swoonararecords

Vinyl Matters

From: Essex

Bio: Mark is an independent trader based in south-east Essex, specialising in all genres - we personally love his Classic / Hard Rock selection - there is always gem upon gem in there. A hobbyist and enthusiast, Mark is definitely one you want to check out if you are looking for vintage classics!

Vinyl Revivalist

From: Essex

Bio: Phil is a vinyl fanatic & occasional jazz-funk bass slapper, who has been buying and selling vinyl for around 40 years! Operating in Essex and London and specialising in 1960’s to 1980’s vintage vinyl he also offers a solid selection of collectors items (the rare bits!) from the 2000’s when vinyl wasn’t being pressed as much. So if you are looking for that rare noughties original you have always wanted, check out Phil’s stall!

Social Media Link(s): Website: https://www.elvinyl.com/vinylrevivalist, Facebook: Vinylrevivalist, Instagram: vinylrevivalist

Others

Friends: Also, there are two excellent indie record shops in Brentwood - Hey Joe Music and Coffee and Spinalong Records. They are both a 5 minutes walk away from the fair so make sure you go check them out too!

PLUS - superb, delicious cakes will be on sale on site courtesy of DebzDeliciousCreations!

So there you have it ladies and gentlemen - a real mix of brilliant local traders as well as awesome shops from outside the area. So catch them all in one place whilst you can! A lot of the dealers will of course not be able to bring their entire arsenal of stock so do check out their online stores too!

[beautifulletdownfics]

The Nearness of You - A Harry Styles One Shot

A friends to lovers one shot feat. birthdays, pining and stolen purses.

Hello, please enjoy this fever dream fic that came to me a week ago and is now somehow 13.5k and gracing your eyeballs. I’ve never written a one-shot of this nature before and it was quite a refreshing distraction from my usual, long-form fics. Thank you to Anne @oh-honey-styles​ for the encouragement (bullying) and for posting the pic that inspired it all. To everyone else, read on x katey *Because this is quite lengthy, I’d recommend opening in a browser because the Tumblr app can be glitchy*

My masterlist Chat to me here

“When you're in my arms And I feel you so close to me All my wildest dreams came true” The Nearness of You, Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong

++

You love the cold.

London in February isn't everybody's cup of tea, but you feel positively giddy walking down the icy Soho street in your new & Other Stories snow boots. The hard, black leather is already making your toes ache, and they're rubbing against the heel of your left foot, but they'll stretch to size, and you can tell these are going to be Your Signature Boots. The wind whips against your cheeks, red flushing them as you cross the laneway and push open the door to the chic little restaurant you've followed on Instagram for years but never had an excuse to try. Figures Harry chose it for tonight. Sometimes you wondered if the coincidences were a little too … Coincidental.

"Hi," you smile brightly to the maître d', "I'm uh … I'm here for the birthday? For Harry?"

Do I need to say his surname? You think to yourself.

"Can I have your name, please?" The suited man pulls a piece of paper out of the reservations book and waits for you to identify yourself. Your chest is rattling from the cold and the flurry of nerves you're all too familiar with ignoring.

"Y/N," you say your full name, taking in the dark floor of the restaurant, the flickering candles on the tables and lining the bar that takes up the entire left side of the room. The whole place is beautiful, just like you've double-tapped online; all deep reds and burgundies, vintage posters, and mismatched, dark wooden furniture. A jazz record plays just loudly enough to fuse the conversations at all the tables into one comfortable sound. It would make for a sexy place for a date, you decide, stolen touches under the table would feel thrilling and seductive.

The maître d' nods, you're on the list, "Back in the private dining room," he says, "Follow me this way."

You push your evening bag further up your shoulder and walk half the length of the bar, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. You catch the bartender watching you as you go, he's cute, and you give him an awkward little wave before calling out ahead of you.

"Sorry, excuse me," you get the attention of the man leading you through, "Can you point me to where I need to go? I'm going to get a drink to take in first if that's okay?"

"Just there," he points to the doorway at the back, next to the kitchen pass, "The curtain on the right."

Thanking him, you watch as he walks back to his station by the front door. You turn to the bar and rest your hands on the cool wood. They've stuck the pages together of old Little Golden Books for the drink menus, but you'll be ordering what you always get on birthdays, so don't take in the beverage options as you flip through The Tawny Scrawny Lion. You remember it from when you were a kid.

The bartender moves to stand in front of you, a gleam in his eyes and flirtatious smirk on his face, "Pretty good read, that one. You have to order a drink though, this isn't a library."

You laugh, he's laying it on a bit thick but probably just after the tip, "I was more a The Poky Little Puppy sort of girl."

He gives you a grin of approval, flipping a napkin up onto the bar in front of you, "What can I make for you?"

"I'll have two Old Fashioneds, please," you lean forward onto your elbows to give your feet a rest as he pulls up a second napkin and then two crystal, lowball glasses. "They're pretty," you comment without thinking.

"It's all about the glass," he confirms quickly, dropping brown sugar cubes into each one and then shaking bitters on top. Your eyes focus on the way the squares dissolve and fall in on themselves as he speaks again, "I'm Jack."

"Y/N," you give your name for the second time, throwing a brief smile his way, "I've never actually watched someone make these before."

Jack pauses and gives you a teasing look, "Do you want me to stop so you can get something to write this all down?"

You laugh and roll your eyes at him as he goes back to making the drinks. You're stalling. You know when you go through the curtain in the back there'll be a dozen people who're all dressed nicer than you, with more impressive jobs than you, who have funnier, more outrageous stories about the birthday boy than you. You'll need to stand awkwardly in the doorway for a few moments too long before Harry notices you, and then your greeting will be watched by all his cool, London friends.

You know better than to let any of that dull your shine—you really do—but you've had a rough few months, and if you're honest, you'd like your first time seeing Harry since the summer to be a little more low-key than this. So that's why you're wearing the new boots that hurt and might not suit the dress code because they're new and you feel good wearing them with this outfit. It feels a little special to be out celebrating Harry's (belated) birthday in a semi-new ensemble. You managed to fluke getting your hair and makeup just right, and yes, your legs do look pretty fantastic in these tights with the short, roll neck, knit dress, thank you very much.

"Here you go," Jack brings your attention back to him, you can smell the citrus twist in front of you, and the crystal glass deflects the light from the candles, "Can I put this on a tab for you? You're with the birthday?"

"I'll pay," you tell him, already digging for your card and holding it out to him.

"Oi!" You hear a very familiar voice call out from the far end of the bar, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you shiver, "What're you payin' for? What's she—don't take her money!"

You keep your arm out steadily to Jack and raise your eyebrows at him, "Take it," you urge him quickly, feeling him pluck it from your fingers just as you turn towards the voice you know so well.

That familiar Tom Ford cologne hits your nose just as Harry hurries up and deposits himself heavily against the bar, right up in your personal space. His broad frame blocks out the room to you, and he's lit softly in the dim light and looking radiant from within, as per usual. He's got his crazy eyes out—accusing you—and his eyebrows are pinched together slightly, but he looks good. Happy. Rested. Pleased to see you.

Harry's always pleased to see everyone, you tell yourself, Hold it together.

He pulls you into his chest for a hug. Your cheek presses just below his pecs, and you feel the way he's grown more defined since you last saw him. The material of his t-shirt is soft and smells clean. It's a tight squeeze he gives you, one that you resist reading into. Was it healthy for there to be so much comfort in a simple hug? Was your whole body allowed to tingle and fizz from the embrace of a friend? Was it pathetic to have been carrying around in your ribcage the same crush from when you were thirteen?

Affirmative. Without a doubt. Yes.

You haven't seen Harry since mid-September, the last time he was in London. Well, the last time he was in London and had time to see you. You're sure there were probably business trips, Christmas definitely. And going off Instagram, you think he might've flown into Manchester and spent a long weekend with Anne back in October, but if it was any of your business, it would've been your business. You needed to be grateful simply for what you got; intermittent texts about books he'd read or maybe a happy drunk voicemail if he thought of you at the right time. He sent an email at Christmas with a charitable contribution in your name instead of a gift.

"It's so good to see you," Harry says as he pulls away, all crinkled eyes and broad smiles. You don't know your grin has launched his heart into space and that despite having just gone to the bathroom, Harry feels due for a nervous wee. He thinks you look fucking gorgeous tonight. Knowing you've done your hair, and eyeliner, and picked that dress to come out and celebrate his birthday … It sends a jolt of desire straight to his groin—beauty blooms in front of his eyes in you.

Tell her, you idiot. Twenty-seven could be the year.

"Hi," you chirp at him happily and pick up one of the glasses in front of you, "I got you a drink."

Harry watches you fondly and then dramatically looks off to the side, lets out a little huff, "Typical Y/N, buying her own drink … You really think I wouldn't have one here for you?"

Nevertheless, he says a quiet thank you, takes the glass from you and deliberately sniffs it as if he's not sure what's inside or if he'll like it. You smack his arm lightly at the show and pick up your own glass, chinking it to the side of his and watching him over the rim as you both take your first sips. The familiar taste and view fill your tummy with gurgling happiness that sits high in your chest. He's dressed almost exactly how you expected him to be—smart, high-waisted dress pants and a printed t-shirt. You're glad you didn't go too formal, the restaurant is nice, but it's not Hatted or anything, not like the place he took you in LA that time, where you felt like the biggest idiot in the world for not realising beforehand, was properly fancy.

"Fuckin' delicious," he rumbles slowly, bringing you back to the cocktail, "A classic."

"Happy birthday," you tell Harry sweetly, thankful for what's likely to be your only quiet moment with him all night, "Sorry I couldn't make it to the LA party."

"Ah," Harry waves you off, "Your job's much too important here."

He means it. Harry's beyond proud of you. He's always telling people you work for the NHS, saving lives and keeping the country going. The party in LA was thrown together by some people at the last minute, and even though most of the friends he left in the backroom when he went to find the bathrooms a few moments ago were able to fly across for it, Harry's not the least bit put out by you not being able to. Would've been a big trip for you to do on your own and he knew there's no way you'd miss his London celebration. And you sent over a gift, which shouldn't have surprised him. His actual birthday was spent in LA, and that morning a parcel arrived from you—two new notebooks and a novel Harry read the back of and instantly knew he would love. It's what he read on the flight home to the UK.

Trust you to want him to have the gift on his birthday—go to all that trouble of packaging it and sending it over—when you were going to see him in London ten days later anyway. Harry could do worse than a friend like you.

"I just need a bit more notice than four da—

—Please," Harry's shaking his head at you, hating watching you apologise for something he really doesn't care about. "I'm glad you're here tonight," he tells you genuinely, fingers reaching out to brush your bangs away from your eyebrow briefly and—did the room just spin around you?—get a glimpse of the bronze sheen over your eyelids, "I haven't seen your new hair in person, looks lovely."

Lovely? he scolds himself, Lovely is a nice jam scone, lovely is a hug from mum …

"Oh," you coo, automatically sending your own fingers up to where Harry's had just been to reposition your newish bangs, "Thanks, still getting used to it, wanted to do it forever but wasn't brave enough to I guess."

"I like your natural hair colour, too," he continues slowly, eyes running over your whole head, "I mean, I loved how it used to be … But I like this a lot."

Shit, Harry's already failing to adhere to the strict series of pep talks he's given himself over the last couple of days. He's babbling, and he's probably just made you think he's not liked how you've had your hair for the previous twelve years. Is he buzzed from the cocktail or from the way your cheeks have gone a little pink since he touched you? His compliment made you squirm, and Harry wants to do it again and again until what he's feeling makes sense.

"Just, you know, feels like a throwback to the old days," he mumbles through another sip of the cocktail you both love, a glint appears in his eyes as he continues, "When you had Barbie overalls and would spend half a day plaiting your whole head in those tiny little rat tails."

Your mouth opens into a horrified O, and you let out a single laugh, "Rat tails? They were cool. And I was eleven when we met, I'd definitely already outgrown the Barbie overalls."

"Whatever you say," Harry smirks at you, signature dimples appearing on his cheeks, "I just remember those little beads from the ends of them ending up all over the bottom of the pool."

You smile at the memory. You remember duck diving with Gemma to collect all the beads so they could be put back into your hair the next day. Nearly drowning from laughing so hard at Harry and the other boys trying to stand on your backs in the water. Summers with Harry were always spent laughing. The local pool and skate park saw all your adventures. When Harry's dad moved in next door to your family after his parent's divorce, you and your brother hung off the fence, peering into the backyard to see if any toys or a trampoline might appear signally new kids next door. They didn't, and it wasn't until the summer when Harry and Gemma arrived for their holidays that you jumped the fence with ice lollies and offered yourself up as a new friend.

"Simpler times," you muse to yourself, looking up and catching the perplexed look Harry was giving you, "Spaced out a bit, sorry."

"I've missed my little weirdo," he grins at you affectionately, angling a little closer and levelling his head down to yours as he bit his lip and frowned, "Are you doing alright though?"

You let out a little sigh and avert your eyes to where Jack, the bartender, is busy making trays of drinks for different tables. Harry observes you carefully, a twinge of guilt forms for causing the sad look that's come over your face, but also for not having asked the question weeks ago. Gemma told him at Christmas, an off-handed comment about you being newly single. When he heard the evil gremlin in him was fucking relieved, just like he always was.

"I'm fine," you try a smile out and pull your lips up higher when you don't think Harry buys it, "Better. Had my crisis haircut and drank myself to tears with my work friends. Just a normal break up, really. M'getting used to them at this point."

A small, white lie.

Each breakup bruises you deeply. Talking about it afterwards fills you with a shame that makes you feel naked, like everyone else can see what's wrong with you but you. As though it's obvious why nobody's picked you yet. You don't ever want to talk about it afterwards, (especially not with Harry) don't want to draw attention to it. Prefer to let the disappointment and loneliness pool in your tummy and sit there heavily, weighing you down, waiting for the One Day someone spectacular might come along and be buoyant enough to float away with you.

You're looking for your forever. You want the cheesy romance, and the love, and marriage, and kids, and the whole stupid thing. You want to be wanted and loved and cherished. That's what you're ready for. You just can't find anyone who's ready for that with you. So, you date, have mediocre boyfriends who rarely make it to the first anniversary, then pick up the pieces and try again.

Wash, rinse, repeat.

"Well," Harry swallows, reaches out for your arm to make sure you look at him, "You look beautiful tonight. And it's his loss, he's clearly a monumental idiot."

You give Harry a noncommittal hum in response. Just as you're about to say something you shouldn't—get into details you bet Harry really isn't that interested in knowing—you catch the movement of someone appearing from the doorway behind Harry and then approaching you both.

"Harry, mate," you don't know the guy who's recognised Harry's back and is calling out for his attention now, "Thought you might've fallen in."

Harry snaps around quickly to the voice, blocking your view. You take another sip of your drink and pull in a deep breath. Not fitting into any of Harry' groups socially has its downfalls. If his sister wasn't around, you tended to have to make friends at anything Harry invites you to. You're not part of his Holmes Chapel crew or his LA friends, and you definitely don't fit into the London group. Over the years there have been faces you've come to find familiar, but you're still the singular, hanger-on friend from Harry's second childhood home.

Peering around Harry's shoulder, you catch the end of a look between the two guys you think alludes to this new friend gauging whether Harry needs rescuing from you. You briefly wish the ground would open and swallow you whole. You know that look well.

"Aiden, this is Y/N," Harry raises his arm and angles to pull you around in front of him.

You hold up your drink, awkwardly, "Hi."

Aiden gives you a hesitant smile, "Hello," then he raises his eyebrows at Harry, "Harry, you coming back in, mate?"

Harry bites his lip and chuckles, reading the look on his friend's face, "You're a prick, I don't need saving. Known Y/N since I was twelve, we were just catching up."

You feel yourself go bright red, and you're thankful for the forgiving lighting. This isn't the first time this exact scenario has happened to you. You've been on the receiving end of that uneasy look before—his friends checking if the girl who isn't there with anyone else is supposed to be there at all. Backstage at the O2, a member of Harry's security once hauled you to the tour manager's office to check your VIP credentials were legitimate. You'll take that story with you to the grave.

Aiden deflates slightly and waves a hand your way, "Shit, sorry, thought he'd been cornered by a fan again … I mean, a pretty fan to say the least but …" he coughs into his hand when Harry gives him a glare you don't see, "Great to meet you."

"No worries," you wave it off like it's nothing. The truth is your brain has short-circuited at Harry's palm resting on the small of your back, he's not moved it from when he first brought you forward. Friendly touches weren't strange between you, but this lingering, comforting hand is burning a hole in you tonight. You haven't been out and had anyone touch you since your breakup, and Harry is setting off all you nerve endings. You tilt your weight onto your other foot to pull back from him slightly, but Harry's hand travels with you. "We should go back, I might use the loo first though, is it that way?"

Harry watches you point in the direction of the bathroom, you're flustered and he really wishes he could tell Aiden to buzz off so he could just take another few minutes with you. Brief you on who was in the room you were about to go into. You wouldn't know any of them, and Harry always appreciated that you came to things on your own, particularly when you wouldn't know anyone aside from him once you got there. He should have invited his sister so you'd have a buddy. Or told you to bring a friend. Not a boyfriend, though.

He watches you take the final drag from your drink and put the glass down on top of the bar, "Thanks Jack, t' was dee-lish," you catch the attention of the bartender, throwing him a beaming grin. And Harry watches the way the guy's features light up at being called on by you. Envy rumbles in Harry's gut, he recognises the dumb smile and dopey nod of Barman Jack's head. Has felt it a hundred times himself when he's been on the receiving end of your quirky humour.

You walk away, and Harry feels Aiden watching him, "She's fit," he comments, trying to get a rise out of Harry, reading the room perfectly.

"Fuck you," Harry grunts at him.

++

Harry sits opposite you at the long table in the private dining room.

You nurse a glass of rosé and eat the food slowly, savouring it. You deliberated over the menu for a long time before settling on what to order, you've seen photos of most of the dishes online, but there were several new ones too. Harry goes off your recommendations but spends a lot of the dinner talking to the people sitting beside him. He knows if he tried talking to you right now, he'd just get lost in you, which is both rude for a birthday party and bound to be too conspicuous.

You insert yourself into a conversation with the girls sitting next to you and pretend you're good at making friends. They spend most of the meal talking about something that was on the telly the night before. You were on shift so missed it, but pretend to be interested or like you might've seen it—anything to not stick out like a sore thumb.

Harry watches you out the corner of his eye the whole time. You've shrugged off your jacket, and he recognises the gold necklace you've got around the collar of your dress, sitting over the black fabric on your chest. He's pretty sure it was a gift from Gemma a few years ago, you wear it all the time. Harry makes a note to get you something that compliments it for your birthday coming up. You're chatting to one of his mate's girlfriends and Lisa who's been on his publicity team for years. Those would've been the two he'd have introduced you to first as well. He can't stop watching the way your lips turn up every time something funny is said, or one of the girls makes eye contact with you. Watching you try with his other friends always makes Harry feel warm and giddy for some reason.

Fuck, he's missed you. And he berates himself for the fact he never seems to remember that until he sees you again. (It's strategic usually, his heart doesn't take your company well when he knows you're going home to someone else) You're so engaging and kind and unintentionally charming, and you always have time for him. Harry knows he's not an easy human to be friends with; he constantly ducks in and out and is never around for the big things, let alone being available to call on a random day to just hang out with. The friendship is always on his terms, and he knows it makes him a selfish prick. You definitely could've done with a call a couple of months back when you had your heart broken. Like always, he missed it, and by the time he was sending you a message about an episode of Midsomer Murders, he felt as though the moment to console you had passed, and Harry didn't want to draw attention to the fact he wasn't around for it.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?" His head snaps back around to the person next to him, thoughts still on you across the table. He agrees with whatever was said and does his best to catch up.

Harry's got to stop thinking about how you're single at the moment. He really does.

++

A few hours later, it's the girl sitting to your left, Lisa, who first mentions the idea of kicking on.

It's after dessert—after everyone sang happy birthday to Harry over a round of espresso martinis—and you're starting to think that if you leave now, you'll be home before midnight, which means the tube won't be too deserted to feel safe. You're also at a comfortable place to wake up without a hangover in the morning. Two cocktails and a glass of wine over dinner, because any more and you're scared you could say something stupid to the wrong (right) person.

Harry's face lights up, and he looks around the room, eager at the idea of going to a bar or two for more drinks. He's not been out in London for the longest time, and he's happily buzzed enough to not be too worried about running into people. Feels like this group of friends have gelled well together. How often does he get to have a night like this in London? Hardly ever.

"Yeah, let me sort out the tab and then we're good to go," Harry says, pushing his seat back from the table and standing up, his hands hunting his pockets for his wallet and phone, "I'll be right back."

When he goes, you decide now's as good a time as any to split. You pull your coat on and say goodbye to the friends you made over the meal. Lisa gives you her business cards as if speaking to you had been part of her job, you slip it straight into your coat pocket and can already picture it at the bottom of the garbage in your kitchen. You revisit the bathrooms, and when you come back out into the main restaurant area, Harry's still leaning against the front desk, chatting to the maître d' from earlier.

He feels your small hand land on his back and jolts upright at the contact, your gentle voice calling his name softly, "Harry, I'm going to head home."

He spins around, and you catch the fall of his face, "What? No … No. You're the one I want to hang out with the most," his bottom lip juts out and his brows furrow. "Y/N."

"Thanks a fuckin' lot, mate," you hear a male voice laugh at your back, they slip behind you and out into the chilly air, and Harry flips them the bird. You were pushed closer into his chest as they jostled past and he steadied you with his arms latched onto your forearms. Still watching outside, you see a cigarette lighter flare-up on the footpath and the end of an orange butt glow spectacularly in the night. When you glance back at Harry, he's not looking happy.

"Don't pout," you tell him lightly, you reach up and press the skin taut between his eyes smooth again, "Can't wrinkle that rockstar face of yours."

His face lights up, and his skin heats where you made contact, "You can't go yet."

"Harry," your features tangle into something like a grimace, "You'll have a better time without me. Everyone seems to be pretty tight—"

—Y/N," he gives you a final, pleading look, "Please come."

You make out like you're stomping your foot in defiance, "Fine."

"Score!" Harry cheers under his breath, shrugging his jacket up over his shoulders and saying a final round of thank yous to the staff. When you're out on the street at Harry's side somebody mentions the name of the next place and points the direction of it, Harry places a hand on your shoulder as you start to walk and leans down to your ear, "I just have one condition for you coming."

You pull back and look at him, "I don't think you get conditions when you've begged me to be here."

"A birthday condition then," he edits, pressing his lips together and smiling at you with his eyes, "You have to promise to do what I say before I ask it."

You narrow your eyes at him, "I suppose you only turn twenty-seven once. You can have a single wish from me."

Harry laughs and slips his fingers under the strap of your evening bag, "Give me this."

You think briefly he means to carry it for you, which is a strange thing for Harry to request. But then he unzips it in front of you and starts rifling around inside it, slipping your phone under his arm so he can move around the lipstick and tissues and emergency Galaxy bar to eventually pull out your small purse.

"Harry! What are you—

—Ah, ah!" He holds it all away from you and reminds you of the promise. "This is mine for the night," he says, slipping your purse into his coat pocket. "Otherwise you'll end up buying too many rounds."

You try to sneak your hand into the pocket after your wallet, "Don't be stupid. It's your birthday, I'll buy every round if I need to."

"Exactly my point," he steps away from you down the street, and you skip to be back at his side. He's stolen your money and your chocolate bar.

"Harry, give it back."

"Nope," he pops the 'p' and hands you back the bag, the Galaxy bar hanging from between his teeth, still in the packet, "You promised. Now hurry up and walk, and I might give you a bite of this. 'm freezing my balls off, we are not in LA anymore."

So that's how you end up in the next bar, your handbag a little lighter, squished into Harry's side with a pleasantly sour cocktail he paid for between your fingers. The booth is so far into the back wall you're not even really sure which direction the front door is anymore. Somehow, you've managed to sit ten people around a booth probably designed for six, but nobody seems to be bothered.

Your whole right side is on fire, though.

You can feel Harry from the top of your shoulder all the way to your ankle. His hip sits neatly next to yours, Harry's left elbow rests just above your right thigh, and your knees press together every time he gets excited when he speaks and unintentionally opens his legs up. If Harry's bothered by it there's no way you'd know, he's hardly looked at you since you all sat down, much less uttered a word of discomfort about the seating arrangements. Makes no sense really, when he seemed so desperate for you to stay out with them.

(Next to you Harry's felt like he was high most of the time, he's flashing in and out of the conversations around him. Because he can smell your perfume—Stella by Stella McCartney, he'd know that fragrance anywhere, you've been wearing it since you were seventeen—and you're warm and snug beside him. He feels completely insane. But he also feels inflated with a heart-crushing joy at having you so close. He's trying his best not to draw attention to it or to you because what he's always liked most about your friendship is that you're just his. God, he needs to do better at seeing you more often, talking more, being more. Each breath as he's touching you is like a crack of electricity through his chest that aches beautifully. Nobody else feels like this. Even when he's dated, what he's felt with them can't hold a candle to his boyhood crush on you.)

You sip your drink and laugh at the embarrassing story that's being told about Harry, oblivious to his torment. Oblivious to how Harry feels your forearm brush his leg and has the overwhelming desire to deposit his palm on your thigh and keep it there, probably forever.

It strikes you that the last time you saw Harry was before the current anecdote about him in Italy happened, and at the table, it's being spoken about as though it was ancient history. You wonder what historic classification your memory of thirteen-year-old Harry would get, that time he attempted to bleach his hair with lemon juice. He ended up with second-degree burns on his forehead from the acid reacting with the sun.

Or the time Gemma stayed in Holmes Chapel for the summer because she had her first boyfriend, and so you spent six weeks learning that maybe you'd been wrong about who your favourite Styles child was. Maybe the boy who, when you were eleven, didn't impress you much, suddenly at thirteen, demanded all your attention. Made that summer become the first where you considered your outfits and whether your mum sending you next door with homemade snacks made you look lame.

"… And of course, Harry can't walk away from a dance floor when he's on the tequila …" everyone around the table laughs. Harry peeks at you to make sure you are too, but he's not very good at it because you notice, a smile flares on your lips.

You're used to long periods of not seeing each other, it's how it's always been. Harry and Gemma spent the summers with their dad and then returned to Holmes Chapel for real life. Sometimes that's what it still felt like, as though each time you saw either of them you were acutely aware there was a foreign Real Life they would go back to without you.

Harry in particular. You were used to not seeing him for months on end, usually the whole school year. Just a few messages over MySpace and birthday cards, and then, when you were out of school, invites to parties Harry couldn't come to anymore—'I'm in Australia, how insane is that? Sorry, I'll miss your 18th …' or 'I can only stay until the 8th, could you maybe graduate a week earlier? ;)'—and emails every other month with a new mobile number for you to overwrite his contact in your phone with. You're not saying you feel hard done by in your friendship, you don't. It's just always very take-what-you-can-get with Harry.

"You've got your thinky eyes on," he's pivoted his whole body towards you, hips twisted in an entirely uncomfortable looking position. Harry's got his resting elbow on the table right next to where your hand holds your drink, and he's looking down at you with careful eyes, "Where are you?"

"The pool a dozen summers ago," you answer easily, pursing your lips together and running a knuckle along your hairline, "Thinking about your ah, burn incident."

Harry's face explodes in a grin, and his eyes roll up to the ceiling and then capture yours again, "For fuck's sake, you're never going to stop bringing that up, are you?"

"You were a horrible blonde," you remark quickly, "If you ever so much as blink in the direction of a packet of bleach you have to call me, okay? I'll have no issue telling you, categorically, you should never dye your hair."

"Categorically," Harry mimics you childishly, "Alright, I get it, you went to uni. No need to use words with fifty syllables to make me feel stupid."

You bring your glass up to your lips, "Come off it, Harry, you're ten times smarter than me."

His forehead raises, "You're the cleverest person I know. Don't make me call Gem to confirm it."

"Don't bring your sister into this, Harry," you deadpan.

He goes to reply but holds back, something unnamable travelling across his eyes as he watches you lick your lips after taking another sip of your drink. Harry's leaning a little closer than he might usually, and despite the fact he's a few drinks in he still smells only of Tom Ford and clean clothes. He's just about to ask you what you're doing the next day when he gets hit in the side of the head with a coaster.

"Hey," he cries out, pulling back from you and frowning around at the group trying to figure out who the culprit is," 'M the fucking birthday boy, watch it."

Lisa is the girl directly across from Harry and yourself, and she's is the one who threw it. She's giving Harry a coy smile and holds up her empty glass to him, a not so subtle request makes the drink in your hand feel like a concrete brick. Something dirty you don't like having. She's got captivating blue eyes and straight blonde hair—exactly Harry's usual type. Your heart sinks as he slides out of the booth next to you, laughing at her flirtatious request and taking a tally of who else wants a new drink.

"Y/N?" Your name is delicate on his lips, and it makes you want to cry. Why is it so easy for you to make things feel like they mean more with him?

You direct your smile his way, "I'm good, thanks."

His head tilts to one side, "You sure?"

"Positive," you nod, feeling your cheeks burn as everyone watches the exchange.

"Okay," Harry taps the table with the corner of his phone, "I'll be right back."

After a few moments, you sneak off to the bathroom, happy to see Harry's beaten you back from the bar when you return. He's sitting in your spot, deep in conversation with the person beside him who you recognise from the radio. Tentatively, you slip in next to him, careful not to touch him this time. Harry's got his hand casually resting on the table, turning your glass forty-five degrees one way and then back the other way as he speaks. You think about reaching over and pulling it out of his hand gently (you're losing your buzz, and Little Miss Bombshell across the table has made you feel silly and juvenile) but it looks to be an almost serious conversation, so you don't. With a smile plastered on your face, you look around the table, resisting the urge to pull out your phone to check if either of your flatmates has text you to meet up with them somewhere.

It's a delicious whiff of your perfume behind him that turns Harry's head. You're back from the bathroom, although nobody was able to confirm that's where you went when he got back from the bar and asked after you. Harry pushes your drink over and gives you a smile, taking note of the fresh layer of lipstick and messy oomph to your hair that perfectly shows off the new style and bangs.

Golden, he thinks, As always,

"Your new hair really does look beautiful," Harry tells you, the bar stilling around you as his face becomes all the world is for you at that moment, "Next time, don't wait for a dickhead to break your heart before doing something to make yourself feel good."

You swallow down the thickness in your throat, "Thanks, Harry."

++

Walking to the next bar, Harry can't stop himself from asking.

"What happened?"

You kick your foot out as you wait at a set of traffic lights, half the group ran to cross, but you, Harry and a couple of others were too slow, "What happened with what?"

Harry watches his breath fan out in front of his face, "With your ex, with …"

"Tim."

"Tim, yeah," he turns to look down at you, hands tucked into his coat pockets, "What happened with Tim?"

"Nothing really," you start strong, then shrug one shoulder as you think about it. It's safe to cross so you wait until you're stepping up over the gutter and onto the opposite footpath before you continue, "Probably a lot of little things but … Always felt like he thought I was asking for a bit too much. I guess in the end he just didn't like me all that much."

The way your voice drops kills Harry, he's not detecting self-deprecation but something far worse. He's detecting acceptance or acknowledgement or like you're confessing some truth that should have been obvious.

"Y/N," he stops walking and halts you as well, lets Adrian and Lisa walk around and out in front of you, "If he didn't like you very much then he's got some kind of chemical imbalance. I mean it, this guy's not worth a second of your heartache."

It's not like Harry's a dickhead about it, not like he thinks you should date people with more money or status or who are more impressive. A person isn't their job or what car they drive, he knows that. Harry's not about judging anyone, but you really do seem to date guys not worthy of you. He hasn't met many of them, but Harry knows this to be true because if they were worthy, you simply wouldn't be single right now. If you dated someone half-decent, there wouldn't be a chance in hell they'd let you go. You're beautiful and thoughtful and intelligent and funny—so funny—which means Harry knows without a doubt that this Tim guy was an absolute fuckwit.

"It's not necessarily about the guy," you start and Harry can hear the thick emotion in your voice, "Is it? It's about the idea. The disappointment is more about not getting the fairytale, not finding my person. Not getting the whole package everyone else seems to have found. I know Tim wasn't right—truth be told I didn't end up liking him very much either—doesn't stop me from being sad that I still haven't found it."

"'It'… That's what you're looking for?" Harry asks, eyes out front where the rest of the group are all stopped waiting at another set of traffic lights.

They're laughing and chatting loudly to other people on nights out, and hanging off street poles to get funny pictures. He doesn't want to catch up to them, not when the two of you are in the middle of this conversation that's making his heart race and his hands sweat. He starts taking smaller steps.

"Yeah," you breathe out, almost sounding ashamed of yourself, "Don't seem to be looking in the right places."

Look over here, Harry thinks.

"But I mean, each breakup I end up getting something out of it," you've flicked your positivity switch, "This time I got these boots and bangs," you kick out your foot and watch Harry take note of your footwear, "Last break up I got four houseplants and a new watch … It's not all bad. What about you?" you turn it back on Harry, "Are you seeing anyone at the moment?"

It's hard to tell with Harry. You either find out from his sister or sometimes, social media. Although that's all usually trash. Generally, when Harry's seeing someone, you'll hear it confirmed from Gemma, and the next time you see Harry, it'll be something you're assumed to know. You haven't seen Gemma since Christmas time though, for your annual festive get together, and she didn't mention anything. Tim had ended things with you a few days before, so that was the main topic of conversation.

"No," Harry confirms what you'd already deduced—and hoped—in your head, "Not for a while now."

"Got your eye on anyone?" You quiz faux cheekily, your smile a little too wide.

Yes, you, he says to himself as he looks at the side of your face.

You hope he's not got some girl in LA he's into. Just like you'd hoped his answer to the previous question. But the hope was silly, something that bloomed in your chest each time you saw him and died again before you were home in your bed, alone.

"I'll let you know," he says aloud.

You think you see something else there in his expression, but you know you can't have. Your mind is swirling, and you're feeling a tingling sensation all over that you know you shouldn't. It'll only leave you disappointed when you part ways tonight and don't see him for another few months. The tiny bits of maybe mores and perhaps are dangerous to things to cling on to now, they'll all turn into Nothings very quickly.

Someone steals his attention away from you when you get to the next street corner. Most of the group are gathered there, and you're not sure whether to believe it when Lisa says they missed the green man to cross the road because they were talking. She sides up to Harry and starts waving her hands around in an animated story about something or other. Harry crosses the street with her, and you give him up for the night.

But he's acutely aware of what's happened. Harry's not stupid—he's emotionally intelligent, and spent enough time with Lisa on nights out before—and he can see that she's deliberately pulled him aside. He likes her, quite a bit, but she doesn't make his insides flip, or his toes curl. She's firmly Just A Friend. Harry hasn't spent countless hours over the years thinking about her, lying to himself about how he's completely fine when she starts dating someone new. He's never thought about an alternative life, one where he stayed at school and went to uni and got a regular job and maybe (definitely) ended up with her.

He's imagined that life with you—more than once. More than a dozen times, if he's honest. For years now, Harry's bitten his tongue and smiled through the pain of not being able to have you. And sure, most of the time it's a dull ache, deep in the recess of his mind, that needs to be called on or conjured to really be felt, but it's always been there. He's always had an (Astronomical) Soft Spot For You. Ever since that summer you broke your arm falling off the back of the ramp at the skate park, and he first saw you cry. At fifteen he didn't know what the hollow but sharp pain through his heart was as he rushed to your side, but now he knows that was the first sign he didn't see you as just a mate. Would never again see you as just a mate.

And now, hearing you use the word 'it'. You say you're out there dating idiots trying to find it and Harry's just unwaveringly sure he that could be him. He wants to be it for you.

You've pulled out your phone and fallen behind, face pulled down as you type away furiously. Harry watches you out of the corner of his eye, half just to watch you and half to make sure you don't get separated entirely from the safety of the group.

"Y/N," he calls out, unable to keep up with Lisa's story and unwilling to try to tune back into it. She stops short, and annoyance flits across her face, but Harry still turns to you, still crosses his arms over his chest and gives you his best scolding look, "It's the oldest trick in the book," he goads you. Lisa sighs behind him, and he ignores it.

Your head slowly comes up and takes in Harry (and Lisa sulking behind him), "What is?"

"Fallin' behind so you can peek at my bum."

You point at the long coat Harry's wearing that goes to his knees, "Can't see half of you under that thing."

"Ah, ha!" He calls out, his pointer finger floating in the air right in front of your face, "So you've tried."

You shove his shoulder and step around him, trying like anything to act neutrally. You're aware Lisa is still watching on, and you're not used to your friendship with Harry being quite so carefully observed. You know your face has gone red and you're really not going to involve yourself in a pissing contest with her. It's not classy and certainly not your vibe.

As you walk away, boots clip up behind you, and Harry heavily drapes his arm right across your shoulders, pulls you into his side, "Was just teasin', love."

"I know," you respond quietly, not upset, not really.

"Though I might've made you sad," Harry continues solemnly, "Know you get embarrassed in front of people."

Your face cracks into a smile, "Opposite of you, hey, you're practically an exhibitionist."

He should flirt because you've led him to a pretty easy window into a dirty joke, but something has Harry hanging onto his regret, "I mean it, shouldn't tease you …Should be old enough to use my words, tell you what I think."

You've got no idea what he's on about, "Harry, the teasing was fine. Where's this bloody bar though?"

Up ahead, everyone's standing on the footpath in a clump. Harry can feel the next words on his lips but has to hold them in when his mates turn and see he's finally caught up. They're waiting a few minutes for a table, someone explains, then they'll be able to go in. Harry thinks how little he feels like another drink at another bar. A few people walk away from the group to share cigarettes. You're standing a little bit away, under the sign for the butcher next-door and kick your foot back against the wall like the slight movement might warm you up.

As he steps up to you, Harry watches you get distracted by the group of people spilling out of the bar you're all about to go into. He doesn't want to take advantage of knowing you're newly single also doesn't want to let this opportunity pass. You're always dating someone, or he is, or there's some other reason not to. There's always a reason to hold back from you and Harry refuses to believe it's the drinks he's had nudging him into this. Neither of you is drunk, he wouldn't even say he's tipsy anymore. Just warm and contemplative and less inhibited than usual.

"C' mere," he calls softly, the tips of his boots landing right in front of yours, your bodies a hands' width apart. He wants you closer.

"Harry—

He opens up his coat to you and when you don't move—your brain is busy short-circuiting—he acts for you and winds his arm around your shoulder to encase you in the warmth, "Get in," Harry says, "You're shivering."

You're shocked by the contact, at him being so close and inviting you in and then just taking you in his jacket. He's wrapped the lapels around both your bodies and forced you against his chest. He hums against you, but you're feeling incredibly awkward with your arms hitched up against your chest and pressed rigidly into his shoulders. You've not been in a hold like this before and certainly not with Harry.

He pulls back and digs around for your wrists, "You've gotta put them around me," he stretches his arms behind his back, taking yours with them and instructing you to really settle against him. "There, that's better," he wraps the jacket back around you, and the two of you stand like that—hearts pressed together, scents converging and your whole frame shaking against his—for what seems like far too long for it mean nothing. Right? Your thoughts ricocheted around inside his jacket and go nowhere, solve nothing in your mind.

Over your shoulder, he sees the rest of the group have gone into the bar. He's not surprised none of them called out, Harry's angled you both away from the door and with his head ducked down against yours they probably (hopefully) missed you both there.

It's Harry's twenty-seventh birthday, and maybe that's made him sullen or introspective. Made him think about the passage of time and how another year has passed him by, yet here he stands in the same place as ever—wanting you. Wishing for more, or waiting for a moment that feels right, or hoping something will happen. With growing older comes a sense of regret and an acceptance that twenty-six has happened and anything he wanted to achieve by that age but didn't he never will. There's only the future. Only the things he can do. And the mix of all that with the cocktails has Harry feeling as though he has to act on this. Every birthday he thinks maybe by the next one the Somethings or the Maybes might have happened, and you won't be standing in front of him as just his friend.

"Always had a thing for you," Harry says, his chin resting against the crown of your head while his arms link around low on your back, holding you against him, "I've always liked you more than I should."

Oh god, you think, your chest freezing in place, I'm hallucinating.

"What?" Now your heart is really racing. Or maybe it's completely stopped, seized up and fallen out of your chest onto the salt-covered footpath.

His voice comes out evenly as he repeats himself, "Feels bigger than a crush, but I guess that's what it is … Since we were kids."

(Oh, how those words have been his best-kept secret for all these years but now, in less than two seconds, he's let go of them more easily than almost anything else he's ever done)

"Y/N?"

Harry thought he'd be scared. Thought this would be a moment of panic. Every time he's imagined this he's thought 'and I'd be absolutely shitting myself because what if she doesn't feel the same way?' but now that he's said it he's almost completely calm. The only reason he's worried is that he can feel how hard your heart is beating—even through the layers of clothing—and surely that quickly can't be good for your health.

You're speechless, and he leans back so he can see your face and, oh your eyes. Why on earth didn't he say it to your face, so he could be looking in your eyes? Watch his words project across your expression and settle into your mind.

You look worried, and Harry's transported back to that time he had you on FaceTime when he was somewhere on tour with One Direction. He was telling you about how management was going to let them fly friends out on tour, bring a little bit of home along and give the boys some needed space from each other. You were nodding along and so excited for him but sure Harry was talking about someone else, that this was just news and he'd called up to tell you how he was inviting the boys he went to school with in Cheshire or people he met through X-Factor. Of course I'm bringing out you and Gem, you idiot, he'd told you when you were surprised to get an invite, Who else did you think I was talking about?

He kind of loves watching the look on your face right now, the cogs turning in your head and wheels spinning, furiously trying to figure out what Harry means.

Why isn't he terrified of what you're about to say?

"Why … but you've… and I've…"

Your hands have moved to his hips so you can see him properly, and Harry's encouraged by the fact you haven't pulled away or pushed him off you. You're watching him with a puzzled look on your face and a burning heat across your cheeks.

He brings his forearms up to rest on your shoulders and smiles at you, "I wasn't brave enough to act on it … Guess I didn't want to fuck it up. Didn't want it to not work out. Couldn't stand you becoming an ex."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Right." You don't seem capable of more than one word at a time.

"You feel bad for yelling at me about the chocolate bar now, don't you?" Harry's narrowed his eyes playfully.

That does it.

Your eyes snap back up to his face from being fixated on staring at his neck, "Chocolate bar … No, what the fuck, Harry."

He laughs. A real laugh that comes from the base of his tummy and squeezes his eyes shut and crinkles his nose. His head falls back, and it's a deep, uninhibited laugh, "Don't stomp your new boots at me," he eventually says, crooking his head down to be almost pressing his forehead against yours. "You've been my favourite girl for years, I've always been a pansy idiot who didn't want to wreck the friendship."

"Oh, and now you don't mind wrecking it?" You bark back sarcastically, unsure why you're angry at him but you are.

"No," Harry says softly, moving through your emotional responses seamlessly, "I don't think it's going to wreck it, do you? Think twenty-seven has finally given me the balls to pursue it. To tell you how I feel. How I've always felt."

Your eyes instantly ball with hot tears you weren't prepared for, "You're an idiot."

"I am," he agrees readily, fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

"Why have you told me this now," your voice is small, unsure.

Harry frowns, now he's starting to panic, "Do you … Do you not feel the same? Or do you not think maybe you could?"

Oh, if only he could have been in your head every time you saw him these last few years. Heard you talk yourself down and away from anything more than platonic, from any thoughts that might elevate you in his eyes. You've spent all this time trying to convince yourself to believe you were nothing more than a friend to him, and now this.

"Harry, are you sure you—

—I'm sure," he insists quickly.

"I just—

—I'm sure."

You're suddenly very embarrassed by the conversation the two of you had earlier about your ex. The conversation where you basically told Harry you're incredibly desperate to settle down and find The One. He's so achingly cool, and you feel like a little tinned tomato, thin-skinned and persistently flustered.

Tinned tomato? Really? You berate yourself, Case in bloody point.

"Y/N"

You scratch roughly at your forehead and grimace at whatever thoughts are going through your mind, "I'm just …"

Harry brings one hand up to fix your bangs, carefully sweeping the hair back across your forehead evenly, letting the pads of his fingers dust over your skin, "I think if you didn't feel the same you'd have said No by now."

His words steal the air from your lungs, "Harry, you've just always …"

"I've always?"

"I never thought …"

The smile comes up over his face gently, "It's me, Y/N, please finish a sentence. I'd really like to kiss you, but you haven't yet said anything to imply you'd be open to that …"

You pull your lips together like a reflex you can't help, you've rarely let yourself fall that deep into imaging things with Harry, but your body reacts to his words in an instant, "Promise you're not kidding …"

"I promise I'm not kidding," Harry said sincerely. "I'd never kid around about this, Y/N."

You believe him, and ten seconds of bravery comes over you, "I was thirteen."

His eyes narrow slightly, trying to figure out what you mean, "Thirteen?"

"My thing for you," you continue quietly, heart racing as adrenaline swamps your legs, "Started the summer I turned thirteen."

Harry hears the slight shaking to your voice and almost misses what you've said. Then it hits him.

"Oh yeah?" He squints at you and pulls up his nose with a smile, a secret little smile that will never belong to anyone but the two of you. The Smile that happened just before Harry leant down and kissed you for the first time, pressed his warm lips against your cold ones and really breathed you in.

He holds it like that for a moment, your lips touching but not moving. Then his hands come up to cup your face, and Harry moves his mouth to one side, just a touch. You open up to him, and he has the brief thought that this is probably the Most Important Kiss Of His Life. His insides curl in on themselves as he gets completely lost in you. Completely lost in how perfect this moment feels and how much finally kissing you feels like a relief.

You can't believe this is happening. You're still tucked into Harry's coat—warm and safe—but now you're joined at the mouth, and Harry's a really really good kisser. He's got his thumbs pressed into your cheeks and his fingers laced through the hair around your ears. When his tongue first licks your bottom lip and then goes searching for yours, you don't think you've felt yourself flicker On so quickly. A soft moan escapes your lips, and Harry's kiss somehow becomes harder, his nose bumping yours where he'd been good at keeping things smooth until then. As quickly as it intensifies, Harry takes a slight step back and drags his mouth away from yours.

"Y/N," he breaths out your name, sealing your lips with one of his thumbs as he pulls back. Harry's taking stock of your face (hopefully) getting used to being this close to you. Noting the way your eyelashes kink out at an odd angle right at the corner of your eye, and the freckle that's so close to the edge of your mouth he's never noticed it before. Harry's can feel your heart has slowed down, and the expression on your face right now is content, but curious. He's also sure he can see fear under it all.

"Well," your voice shakes, because Harry's looking at you like you've only dreamed and now that you're here you're not really sure what happens next. You kissed Harry.

He clears his throat lightly and his hands both fall to hold either side of your neck, "There's no way I'm going back to not being able to do that whenever I want."

Then, he kisses you again. You feel yourself melt against him as Harry's chest presses back against yours. You link your arms around his waist, clutching the back of his shirt between your fingers as Harry leads the kiss with a hand on your neck and the other holding your chin carefully. You've picked up right where the last one let off, hungry and exploring and a little bit desperate (perhaps a lot desperate) to have more of each other.

But then his phone rings in his trousers pocket, right against your hip, and you jump away in surprise.

"Shit," Harry mutters, pulling the stupid machine out, cursing the universe, "Sorry … It's Aiden," he tells you with an eye-roll.

And then you're back to reality. Your drinks have all worn off, your feet ache, your ears are freezing, and you've just made out with one of your oldest, best friends. Shit.

"Oh," you take a hearty step back, hands slipping out from Harry's coat and your body bracing the full brunt of the cold night, "Yeah … That's—

—Aiden," Harry barks the name of his mate down the phone while at the same time hooking his free arm around the back of your neck and pulling you close again. He's not giving up touching you that easily, and he doesn't care, quite frankly, about giving you any room to start internalising or retreating from him, "No, we've gone to get some food … I'll see you during the week sometime. Tell everyone thanks for—Yes, I'm serious … I don't care, saw all you lot last week … I'm hanging up now. Bye."

You listened in on the conversation because it was really all you could do. Aiden was obviously inside the bar, and they were all wondering where Harry got to. We've gone to get some food, Harry told him, so they'd know he was with you. (You supposed he was hardly going to say, 'oh yeah we've been out the front making out') Bits and pieces of the other end of the conversation, you were able to pick up on, but not enough to truly know what was said. By the end of the call, Harry was smiling though, you could hear it in his voice.

His nose found the shell of your ear and Harry leant into you, "Come back to mine, or we can go to yours … Watch a movie, play Scrabble, anything … Just wanna be with you."

"It's two o'clock in the morning, Harry," you murmur, your mind struggling to make sense of what's just happened. You're outside a club in Soho held against Harry's chest with lips that know what he tastes like and a body that's on fire.

"I'm not tired," he shoots back, "Are you?"

"Well, no but—

—Great," Harry turns towards the road, takes a few steps to the curb (you trot along with him under his arm), as he flags down a black cab. "Mine or yours?"

His question is simple, he prompts you to answer by calling your name as he opens the door for you and gestures for you to hurry up and get in.

"Yours," you say.

Harry doesn't speak much in the cab, you figure it's about privacy. You hope it's about privacy. The thirty-minute drive out of the city and to his place feels much longer. Halfway through he reaches over for your hand and gives you a reassuring smile across the back seat. You thought the journey might make you sleepy, the sitting down in a warm car would bring the haze over your eyes and bring the long day to a close in your mind. But you could never feel sleepy with Harry's fingers playing with yours, or when he leans over and kisses your cheek for no reason at all.

At his house, Harry tells you to make yourself at home while he turns on the kettle for a cuppa. You kick your boots off in the hallway, and your feet start throbbing in relief as you follow his retreating form. It's certainly not the lusty, hurried entry you imagined you might have. Which only plants doubts in your mind about what's actually going on between the two of you.

"I'm just going to use the bathroom," you call out ahead of you, turning back to the stairs and taking yourself up to Harry's second storey.

Upstairs you don't take long. You're looking a little worse for wear—who wouldn't at 3am—but you're not really in the mood to try to fix yourself. Even if you did Harry would notice, and that felt like something you wanted to avoid. As you walk back to the landing, you wriggle your toes in your socks and happen to look back down the upstairs hallway. You've been in this house dozens of times before but this time feels different. It feels quiet and intimate somehow. Just as you're about to go down the first step, you see Harry's bedroom door is open on the opposite side of the stairs to the bathroom, and you notice something that makes you stop.

The book you got him for Christmas is sitting on his bedside table.

You're standing over it before you realise that your legs have started moving, looking at a picture of Anne, Gemma and Harry, a bottle of water and the book. You pick it up, the cover a little bent and the spine cracked to where he's read. Harry's using the birthday card you send along with the gift as a bookmark. The top of the familiar design sticking out the top of the pages, you can't even really remember what you wrote inside. Something generic probably. Platonic.

Happy birthday, old man! Have a wonderful day, sorry I can't be there in person. Love, Y/N.

The floorboard at the top of the stairs creaks and you turn around to Harry looking surprised to see you standing over his bed. He's got two cups of tea and a family-sized Dairy Milk bar under his arm. Something churns inside you, this was Harry as you'd always known him. Except now you looked at his lips and wondered why the hell you weren't kissing him.

"Oh, yeah, I've been reading that," Harry sees the book in your hands and walks towards you, "It's excellent, unsurprisingly."

A smile starts on your face, "You doubted my selection ability?"

"Never," he returns quickly and then raises his eyebrows at you, "Looking for anything else?"

You feel your cheeks heat and you drop the book back into its place, "No, sorry, I was coming down the stairs and saw … I'm sorry."

Harry passes you a tea, "It was really kind of you to send something over. Was fun having something to unwrap on the day."

"I'm glad," you smile and take a sip of the tea. It's sweet, and you screw up your face, "This is yours."

Harry watches you with a strange expression on his face as the two of you swap mugs. He's worrying his bottom lip, obviously weighing something up in his mind. You see it when he decides what he' going to do about it.

"I've got something I want to show you," he tells you finally, tilting his head back to the door. "Wanna come see?"

"What is it?" You ask automatically, but Harry's already walking out the door, and you have to hurry to catch up.

He leads you into his study, and you hover in the doorway as Harry sets his tea and the chocolate down on the desk. He pulls Bananagrams out of the draw and places it next to the mug.

"We're actually going to play Bananagrams?" You ask.

He looks back at you, "You'd prefer actual Scrabble?"

"I didn't know what you meant by—I guess I …"

Realisation dawns on his face, and he widens his eyes, "Oh, you thought it was a euphemism."

"No!" You snap back quickly, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks (for the record, yes, you thought 'a movie or Scrabble' was a thinly veiled way of Harry suggesting … something else), "No, I just … I just don't think I'll be able to spell words right now."

"I didn't think you were still tipsy" Harry states, shit-stirring.

"I'm not!" You squawk at him. "I'm… I' m—You kissed me!"

He grins, loving the fact he's driven you a little crazy, "Yeah. Want me to do it again?"

Harry's playing with you. He's teasing. And you know it but what you don't know is how he's so confidently jumped to it. Not when you feel like you've been left on the street outside the bar trying to figure out what the hell this means, and what's going to happen tomorrow when he stops looking at you like that. You don't like to think this whole night could've been him playing with you, you don't know Harry to be that cruel. But there's a tripwire in your mind you keep getting snared on.

It's Harry.

"C' mere," he reaches his hand down across the room between you both, "C' mere and kiss me again. You don't seem to be getting it."

"Getting it?" You're cut off by Harry taking two big steps toward you and then planting his lips on yours again.

His palms find your hips, and you hold him in the same spot. It takes a moment for the two of you to find a rhythm, and even then, you're too in your head. You're struggling to remember what little Harry's said about this whole thing. You know he said he had a crush on you and you've gotten the distinct impression he wasn't too fond of your ex. But for all you know Harry's been kissing his mates like this for years but just never gotten around to kissing you. You might've been next on the list. He's a friendly guy. Maybe a crush isn't what it used to be. Or maybe—

He pulls back from your lips with a huffy expression on his face, "Y/N," he says quietly, "I'm a man with an incredibly fragile ego, whatever you're worrying about is really getting in the way of kissing you."

"I'm just—

—Let me show you what I brought you in here for," he interrupts you, takes your hand and tugs you towards the window. Then, he puts a hand on each of your shoulders and directs your attention to the wall.

It's lined with record sale plaques for singles and albums over the years—double Platinums and Gold-Somethings. Harry watches you eyes run over them all, a proud but unsure look in your eye. You're not sure why he's showing them to you, he knows that. He hopes you're not intimidated by them, he's certainly not showing you to try to score any points. There's a sweeter gesture behind it. He points to one leaning against the wall, not hanging. He's got it resting on the bubble wrap it was sent over in.

Stepping up closer behind you, Harry rests his chin on your shoulder, "That one's for you."

"What?"

"I want you to have it, been saving it for you … If I ever got brave enough."

The question falls from your lips before you really think about it, "Why would you want me to have it …"

Harry waits to see if you'll let on you've figured it out, he thought it was pretty obvious really, but you've never been one to elevate yourself or assume, and Harry knows that about you. So, when you don't keep talking, he confirms it for you, "That song is about you."

You just blink, eyes on the framed plaque taking in the name of the song and hearing it in your head.

It's about me? You think you want to hear it, you need to Google the lyrics and make sure you have them right in your head. Harry wrote a song about you. Harry wrote that song about you.

"When … When did you write it?"

"You mean why?" Harry raises his head and steps to stand next to you, he observes your face carefully.

"No, I mean when." You're starring at it like the plaque might answer the question, "When did you write it?"

Harry runs a hand over his head as he thinks, "A few years back, after that time you came out to LA … Didn't record it until this year though …"

Harry watches your face expand in surprise and then crumple back down to confusion. You really don't get it. He's not sure how to make you in one night. He supposes he can't. So he trails his hand up the back of your arm and then around your back, tilting his head down and waiting to see if you'll pull away. When you don't, he kisses the corner of your mouth and then opens his wider to take you lips in his properly.

It's different to the kisses outside the bar, now that you're both out of your outer layers Harry can feel your body against his in ways he's only dreamed, and it's sending everything straight between his legs. Harry's hands explore your back and the curve of your hips, thumbs almost reaching the underside of your breasts but not quite. It's a little awkward when he senses you've felt him hardening between you. Usually, lust clouds that moment, and Harry doesn't mind intimate partners being acutely aware of how they're affecting him. But with you he's a little hesitant, he senses the awkwardness on your side. Friends don't feel those body parts on each other, friends don't… He almost groans when your mouth leaves his without warning.

You think he'll probably change his mind about all this.

"Have you changed your mind?" You ask, not able to stop it.

Confusion colours his features, and his lips smack together, like he's savouring tasting you, "Wha—

"About wanting to be kissing me," you clarify.

"What? No." Harry's eyebrows have shot up, and he's shaking his head, "I barely even started! Didn't I just say I wrote that song about you—why the hell would I—want to do more than just kiss you—You think I'm gonna change my mind?"

You shrug, "Maybe. I don't know."

"Well," he stands up straighter and pins you with his stare, "I'm not. I promise I'm not going to change my mind. And I promise I'll never make you feel like you're asking for too much. Ever."

"Now you're trying to make me cry," you say, hearing him repeat back to you the insecurity leftover from your conversation about your ex. You're half kidding with your words but also not. You believe him. You trust him.

Harry grimaces, sways your bodies together gently, "I really hate seeing you cry, could you not? I had other plans."

You sniff through a laugh as Harry wraps his arms around your middle tighter," What plans are those?"

"Well, I literally thought Scrabble," he tells you through a smile, trying his best to make you laugh, "But I'm open to whatever dirty things you were thinking as well."

"You'll win Scrabble."

So, Harry instructs you to bring your tea and your sore feet back into his bedroom. He gets you a fluffy pair of hiking socks and tells you to take yours off, and your tights, and get comfortable on the bed with him and the block of chocolate. You've polished off a family size together before, the sugar going straight to your heads and always leading to a giggly night of reminiscing and Almosts.

This time though, you only get halfway through the tea and Harry pushes the chocolate off the bed onto the floor in favour of you straddling his hips. It started with a stolen kiss against your temple, and then another on your cheek, and one close to your lips, and then you captured his face in your hands and really kissed him. Within a few moments, Harry was dragging you over to him. His hands settle on the swell of your backside as it sits against his thighs and your lips trace the line of his jaw. This was really happening. You'd really let him peel off your dress and flick off your bra. His shirt was somewhere with the forgotten snacks, and you seemed extremely eager to keep feeling his hardness pressed between your legs.

"I swear to god, I never dreamed this would happen," he murmurs, hissing when your hips pressed into his at a different angle, "Was sure I'd be going to your wedding one day, completely miserable and probably end up drunk and causing a scene. Embarrass you so badly you'd never want to see me again, and you'd just run away with your stupid husband."

You pull back and watch Harry ramble, your bare chest rising and falling against his, "You're a real glass half full kinda guy, aren't you?" you smile at him.

"I just," his eyes drop to your chest, nipples puckered for him, and he scrunches them shut then drops his forehead onto your sternum with a big sigh, "This is fucking unreal, and my brain is just struggling to comprehend—you're breathtaking, and I feel like my chest is gonna explode."

"It's also 4am, so there's always the potential your brain is just plain tired," your index finger is drawing circles on the back of his shoulder as Harry leans against you, you pause and run your hand over the back of his head, "Maybe we should sleep for a little … I'll be here when you wake up," you say in response to Harry squeezing his arms around your waist tightly as if you were going to disappear. Or worse, leave.

His indescribable green eyes find yours in the light from the bedroom lamps, "Will you let me hold you while you sleep?"

"Yeah," you nod, although somehow that question seems more intimate than the lack of clothes between you at the moment. You're distinctly less dressed than Harry, who's still got his trousers on, you're only covered by your underwear.

"We don't have to rush this, right? Got all the time in the world now," still, as he speaks his palms trail up your back and then down again, skimming the sides of your breasts, "Just don't wanna miss anything is all."

"I promise I'm incredibly boring in my sleep, won't miss anything," you tease, "Might be the only time you get any peace."

Harry tightens his forearms around your back and finds the soft skin below your ear with his lips—once, twice, three little kisses—"I feel pretty at peace right now, just having you here. Feels like I'm living a dream."

You don't reply for a moment, but you let your body rest against Harry's in a comfortable hug, your voice is quiet, "You really wrote me a song?"

"I did."

"I've always loved that song."

“Well, it's been yours all along."

"Nobody's ever written a song about me."

"I should hope not."

"Are you going to write another one?"

"Without a doubt."

++

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[angel-of-stagelights]

Actual Things That Happened During My First Term of Zoom Acting School

Yes, they did move my first term of conservatory training online. Yes, it was wild.

The R.A.s have started hosting online events at every opportunity they get. Think cabaret nights, improv nights, Q & As with various teachers, etc, etc. Quarantine is currently driving them so mad that they’ve become extremely competitive about who can host the best event.

Speaking of quarantine, those living on campus are required to social distance with anyone not living in their dorm building and various dorm buildings aren’t supposed to interact with each other outside of class. This has created a vibrant black market exchange.

One of the boys’ dorms is decked out like a jazz bar. The boys run a speakeasy out of it every weekend.

One dorm over, a bunch of the girls are running what is essentially a DIY burlesque club.

Tensions are mounting in several dorms due to personalities clashing within the confines of quarantine. These are actors, remember. YOUNG actors from all over the world, all suddenly living together and unable to move very freely.

To prove the above point, the dorm across from mine once insisted our R.A. come down at 11:45 at night on a school night to settle something. Apparently, someone had hidden every single utensil and piece of cookware in their dorm out of pure spite and they were holding a fucking investigation ala Clue and wanted an R.A. to do room searches.

The dorms participating in the black market have developed an elaborate system of codes and pseudonyms for their dorm buildings and the people involved. It’s developing into a legitimate mafia.

It’s okay though, I’ve befriended one of the managers of the speakeasy. He’s actually quite sweet and has offered to share his recipes for mixed drinks.

Because it’s an acting school, there’s always a musical BLASTING. Like, it does not matter what time it is or where you are in any given student building -- you can always faintly hear a musical soundtrack coming from somewhere nearby.

We’re not allowed on the fire escapes anymore (unless there’s an actual fire) and the older students won’t tell us why. Apparently there was a fiasco of epic proportions last year but if you ask anyone about it, they just stifle a snicker and change the subject.

Despite 2/3rds of our classes being on Zoom, students are still required to wear studio blacks, which only fuels everyone to wear the wackiest stuff ever as soon as they have a day off. The shit I have seen people change into on Friday night...

Okay fine, the shit includes: bellbottoms and a leather vest left open over a bare chest, full punk regalia, a meticulously color-coordinated vintage ensemble, an honest-to-god sailor uniform, various evening gowns and costumes, and a t-shirt and jeans but with a feather boa overtop.

In conclusion, uh...

pray for me.

[nsula]

40th Folk Festival spotlights rich, diverse culture of Louisiana

By Dr. Shane Rasmussen

Photos by Chris Reich, NSU Photo Services

 NATCHITOCHES – The audience at the 40th annual Natchitoches-Northwestern State University Folk Festival held on July 26-27 was entertained and educated about the rich and diverse cultural offerings of the state. The Festival featured traditional Louisiana foods, Kidfest activities, music, traditional crafts, narrative sessions, musical informances, and cultural exhibits. This year’s Festival theme “Vive la Louisiane!” was a great success, with a very happy audience.

 The Festival opened with a rousing dance, beginning with Cajun dance lessons, followed by Gal Holiday and the Honky Tonk Revue, and the night closed out with Bruce Daigrepont Cajun Band. Side stage performances included Natchitoches gospel group Joyful Sounds, 50 Man Machine, which includes NSU faculty Paul Forsyth, Collier Hyams, and Oliver Molina, and an open jam with Max & Marcy, Ed Huey, and Cane Mutiny.

 Saturday’s events included performances in Prather Coliseum by 50 Man Machine, Creole la la with Goldman Thibodeaux and the Lawtell Playboys, the Louisiane Vintage Dancers, Brandy Roberts, the Rayo Brothers, Tab Benoit, Jamie Berzas & the Cajun Tradition Band, the Stewart Family and Friends Bluegrass Band, line dance lessons by the Cajun French Music Association Dance Troupe, the Canneci N’de Band of Lipan Apache, zydeco dance lessons by Avila Kahey, Wayne & Same Ol’ 2 Step, Hardrick Rivers and the Rivers Revue Band, Celtic Music with the Kitchen Session of Baton Rouge and a jam session with Max and Marcy.

 In addition to stage performances there were narrative sessions and music informances, including conversations about American songwriting, culture & costumes of 19th century Louisiana, Tab Benoit’s The Voice of the Wetlands Fondoution, and the musical journey of Vanessa Niemann (aka Gal Holiday). Also featured was a music informance by Tab Benoit. Outdoor activities included demonstrations by the Central Louisiana Dutch Oven Cookers, the Red River Smiths, the Southern Stock Dog Association, and Wash Day, presented by the West Baton Rouge Museum. This year the Festival continued a series of free workshops for Festival attendees. Festival goers attended a Cajun accordion workshop by Jamie Berzas and Bruce Daigrepont.

 The annual Louisiana State Fiddle Championship was also held on Saturday in the Magale Recital Hall as part of the Festival. Fiddle Championship judges included Steve Birdwell, Steve Harper, Henry Hemple, and Clancey Stewart. The new Louisiana Grand Champion is Ron Yule of DeRidder. Second place winner was Joe Suchanek of Merryville, with Owen Meche of Arnauldville placing third. Meche also took first place in the 21 and under championship division.

Suchanek took first in the 60 and up championship division, with Yule coming in second, Birgit Murphy of Opelousas in third, Mark Young of Balise in fourth, Wilfred Luttrell of DeRidder in fifth, and Ron Pace of Alexandria in sixth. Luttrell and Yule also took first place in the twin fiddles competition.

 As the new Louisiana State Fiddle champion, Yule also performed on the main stage in Prather Coliseum. Dr. Lisa Abney managed the fiddle championship. Dr. Susan Roach from Louisiana Tech University emceed the championship.

 Four musicians and a renowned filé maker were inducted into the Louisiana Folklife Center’s Hall of Master Folk Artists. Inductees included Louisiana Music Hall of Famer Tab Benoit, who also served as honorary Festival Chair, Cajun musicians Jamie Berzas and Bruce Daigrepont, filé maker John Oswald Colson, and country singer Vanessa Niemann.

Dr. Shane Rasmussen, director of the Louisiana Folklife Center, led the induction ceremony, assisted by State Representative Kenny Cox and Dustin Fuqua, Chief of Resource Management at Cane River Creole National Historical Park. In addition, the honorary award of Folklife Angel was given to long-time Festival crew chief James Christopher Callahan, an NSU alumnus.

In addition to 4 book signings and 8 exhibits by such groups as state parks and archives, over 70 craftspeople displayed their traditional work on Saturday. These craftspeople demonstrated and discussed their work with the Festival patrons. Craftspeople displayed accordion making, beadwork, baskets, Czech Pysanky eggs, filé making, flintknapping, folk art, knives, music instruments, quilting, pottery, spinning & weaving, tatting, walking sticks, whittling and needlework, wood carving, and more. 8 food vendors provided a cornucopia of traditional Louisiana foods to the Festival audience.

 Support for the Louisiana State Fiddle Championship and the Natchitoches-NSU Folk Festival was provided by grants from the Cane River National Heritage Area, Inc., the Louisiana Division of the Arts Decentralized Arts Fund Program, the Louisiana Office of Tourism, the Natchitoches Historic District Development Commission, the National Endowment for the Arts, the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Foundation, and the Shreveport Regional Arts Council.

Much needed support also came from generous sponsorships from Acme Refrigeration of Baton Rouge, C&H Precision Machining, Chili’s, City Bank & Trust, the City of Natchitoches, Cleco, John Clifton Conine, Atty; CP-Tel, Domino’s Pizza, the Donut Hole, El Patron, Family Medical Clinic, Grayson’s Barbecue, Hardee’s, the Harrington Law Firm, D. Michael Hayes, Atty; JB & M Enterprises, Jeanne’s Country Garden, La Capitol Federal Credit Union, McCain Auto Supply, Jason O. Methvin, Atty; Morning Star Donuts, the Natchitoches Area Convention & Visitors Bureau, Natchitoches Regional Medical Center, NSU Men’s Basketball, the Pioneer Pub, Pizza Hut, Raising Cane’s, Ronnie’s Auto Glass, Save A Lot, Sonny’s Donuts, Southern Classic Chicken, Natchitoches Super 1 Foods 604 and 613, TOTO, Inc; Trailboss, UniFirst, Walmart, Waste Connections, and Weaver Brothers Land & Timber. In addition, numerous newspapers, online venues, and radio and TV stations assisted the Festival by generously printing articles, airing interviews, free promotional PSAs, and/or participating in on-air ticket giveaways.

 The success of the Festival was made possible due to the many volunteers from NSU’s faculty and staff, who gave generously of their time and talents. The Louisiana Folklife Center is grateful to Phyllis Allison, David Antilley, Kay Cavanaugh, Corieana Ceasar, Jason Church, Sherrie Davis, Matt DeFord, Christine Dorribo, Michael Doty, Bruce Dyjack, Alexis Finnie, Ashlee Grayson, Charlotte Grayson, Dr. Hiram F. “Pete” Gregory, Dr. Greg Handel, Wesley Harrell, Jackie Hawkins, Diana Hill, Kristie Hilton, Carla Howell, Leah Jackson, Dr. J. Ereck Jarvis, Melissa Kelly, Suzanne Kucera, Dr. Chris Maggio, Barbara Marr, Terri Marshall, Coach Mike McConathy, Byron McKinney, Valerie Meadows, Gwendolyn Meshell, Dr. Jim Mischler, Melinda Parnell, Julie Powell, Kathy Pylant, Charles Rachal, Chris Reich, Stephanie Stanton, Bethany Straub, Anna Vaughn, Randi Washington, Mary Linn Wernet, David West, Taylor Whitehead, Emily Windham, Dale Wohletz, and Sharon Wolff. NSU students included Francisco Ballestas-Sayas, Caleb Callender, Makayla Fisher, Valentina Herazo-Alvarez, and Ina Sthapit. NSU alumni included Michael Cain, Michael Taylor Dick, Hammond Lake, Greg Lloid, De’Andrea Sanders, and Daniel Thiels. Many thanks are due to the Louisiana Folklife Center staff, including administrative coordinator Shelia Thompson, student workers Macey Boyd, Jalima Diaz, Heather Jones, Caitlin Martin, and Taylor Nichols, and graduate assistants James Harrison and Erica McGeisey.

 Thanks also go out to Andy Adkins, Myranda Adkins, Alexandria Arens, Robert D. Bennett, Jennae Biddiscombe, Rebecca Blankenbaker, Derek Boyt, Erin Boyt, Melanie Braquet, Sherry Byers, the Central Louisiana Dutch Oven Cookers, Don Choate, Jr., Catherine Cooper, Hailie Coutee, Helen Dalme, Cameron Davis, Eli Dyjack, Sheila Dyle, Adam Edwards, Justin French, Jennifer Gallien, Reagan Guillory, Grace Hardy, Dr. Don Hatley, Sue Hatley, Lani Hilton, Ed Huey, Peter Jones, Leonard King, Michael King, Abagael Kinney, Dan Martin, Deron McDaniel, Ivan McDaniel, Charity McKinney, Sheila Ogle, Sara Parnell, Kimberly Perry, Audrey Rasmussen, Gidget Rasmussen, Susan Rasmussen, Wyatt Rasmussen, the Red River Sanitors, Sukrit San, Rick Seale, Lorie Speer, Lori Tate, Margaret Thompson, Sara Vaughn, Emily Ware, Briton Welch, Justice Welch, Shirley Winslow, and the Natchitoches Parish Detention Center trustees and officers Derek Booker and Larry Willis.

 Natchitoches Area Convention and Visitors Bureau staff members included Arlene Gould, Kelli West, NSU students Anne Cummins and Megan Palmer, and NSU alumna Heather Dougan.

Special thanks go to Craig Routh for his generous permission to use his painting, Dixieland Jazz Fleur-de-Lis, for the Festival t-shirt.

[nahastoyou]

J cole born sinner deluxe download free

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A handful of other numbers carry that same weight, making Born Sinner a daring step forward for Cole and an exciting attempt at mastering Jay's Blueprint style. Still, "Crooked Smile" with special guests TLC is a genuine, mature step in the right direction and will have no trouble reaching vintage age. is completely free, reliable and popular way to store files online. Nas (2013) Cole got together with the original 'Illmatic' Nasty Nas for a remix of 'Let Nas Down'. All this bold borrowing is backed up by lyrics that flow fine until their shocking twists ("She raisin' that guy's kids while she swallowin' mine"), while "She Knows" with Dirty Projectors vocalist Amber Coffman is shameless enough to spit "This is Martin Luther King in the Club/With a bad bitch in his ear/Saying that she down for whatever/In the back of his mind is Coretta." It's snide, smart-ass stuff and when it comes to sublime/ridiculous balancing act that his heroes Jay-Z and Nas have mastered, Cole is a little short on the sublime side here to be considered classic. Born Sinner (Deluxe Edition) (2013) Coles second studio album. Cole is the one who produced most of the album himself with his Kanye-sense of sampling (work songs, gospel, old soul, etc.) and his love of hard bass (check "Trouble," "Chaining Day," or infectious single "Power Trip" for some great low end) both returning from before, but it's his love of jazz that provides the greatest rewards as "Forbidden Fruit" (it's like Erykah Baduh meets Ice Cube on this soulful dude cut with guest Kendrick Lamar) and "Let Nas Down" (a pledge to honor the man with better rhymes and less pop) are both driven by their Blue Note-inspried backbeats. No spoiler alert required for that one as the opening "Villuminati" has the gall to sample Biggie's classic "Juicy" while using Jay's nickname as a mantra by repeating "Sometimes I brag like Hov," but besides this, Born Sinner is the a more self-confessional and word-filled effort than before, all of it very busy and Black Album minus the references to Beyoncé and the beats from Rick Rubin. Cole - 2014 Forest Hills Drive (full album) mp3 Quality: Good Download. Cole - Born Sinner (Full Album) (Explicit) mp3 Quality: Good Download.

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Crown, J Cole - J Cole Born Sinner Album is a completely free picture material, which can be. Play and Download all songs on Born Sinner (Deluxe Version), a music album by United States artist J. Sideline Story J Cole Full Album freeload Mp3 Song. It is a very clean transparent background image and its resolution is 996x824, please mark the image source when quoting it. Crown, J Cole - J Cole Born Sinner Album is a high-resolution transparent PNG image. 900x975 J Cole Born Sinner With Crown T-shirt Mens White - Days Gone T'> Download. Crown, J Cole - J Cole Born Sinner Album. Cole releases surprise album Forrest Hills Drive Live - CLTure'> Download. Cole bringing the sound of Drake down to the streets, the Roc Nation rapper's sophomore effort finds him going for the full Illuminati and attempting an ambitious, multi-faceted album in the style of his label boss, Jay-Z. 1400x1400 freeload Cole Born Sinner Official Thread IGN Boards'> Download.

[shemakesmusic-uk]

TRACK BY TRACK BREAKDOWN: Deadly Is the Woman LP by Megan Black.

Fiery, emotive and infectious, Megan Black’s debut album Deadly Is The Woman is a triumphant assertion of sexual identity and empowerment.

Ever since the release of her debut single ’Fur Coat Queen’ in 2019, Scottish artist Megan’s highly personal songwriting has offered a powerful exploration of sexuality and gender conventions. The track is deeply autobiographical, drawing on her lived experience of coming out to friends and family and hitting back at societal prejudices and ingrained biases around bisexuality.

Now, Deadly Is The Woman expands on Megan’s unapologetic vision, incorporating vintage-inspired sounds from blues, rock and jazz with sharp lyricism that reflects her own experiences of navigating the social and political spectrums in which she currently finds herself. With the kind of gritty, alluring vocal ability that recalls icons like Stevie Nicks and Alannah Myles, themes of gender, sexuality and mental health underpin the album, creating a powerful sonic bridge between her 70s-influenced sound and contemporary views on feminism and the LGBTQ+ community.

We asked Megan to do an in depth track by track breakdown of Deadly Is the Woman for us. Read it below.

Sweet Bisexual

‘Sweet Bisexual’ is all about empowerment for me. I’ve never really felt ‘cool’ being bi. It always comes with stigma and judgment, so this song was my way of poking fun at the lack of understanding whilst still empowering myself (and hopefully others too – even if they’re not bi, just making them feel seen). I wanted it to be a bit like a smack in the face. Very obvious, very abrupt, and (hopefully) very authentic. Adding some sexy guitar riffs and bass solos hopefully helped with the whole cool factor, too.  

Maybe After All 

I’ve always been a sucker for a good break up song, but they’re mostly just about how someone else caused hurt which, obviously isn’t how all relationships end. In my experience, they’re messy and complicated, and in this case, I see myself as the one at fault. I was self-destructive, dealing with my own traumas, and ultimately caused someone else pain.  

Freedom Belongs to Him

'Freedom Belongs to Him' originally started as a personal experience (and a rather negative one at that) with men. As I continued writing the song, I realized how much it spread into other areas of my life. As a female musician, I have had a different experience and different treatment from men. This led to writing about the freedom men are granted: it can be opportunities, respect, work and even connections within the music industry. From all male headliners to feeling sexualised as a woman in music. The idea behind the song is that things are changing, and I want to be part of that change. This encouraged the #FreedomBelongstoUs campaign where I asked like-minded musicians to join an online campaign supporting freedom and equality for all artists. I can only speak from my own experience as a queer woman, but this does stretch further to other minorities such as people of colour, disabled, trans and many other artists who do not feel as well represented within the industry. This song is all about empowerment and using our voices. (And obviously some funky bass lines). 

Does That Make Me Eve? (Live Studio Version)

Have you ever worn a band t-shirt and had some random middle-aged man question if you’re even a real fan? That’s pretty much what started the fury behind this song, and it just grew from there. I got very exhausted from having to slot myself into society as a woman so instead I want to question what the patriarchy even wants at this point. I’m always going to be too much or not enough. As women and NB people, we are never going to meet any standards without being torn down for it. I used the whole Adam and Eve thing to question the rules that have been made. I want to keep questioning things. I always want to be curious, and a six-minute country/blues song felt the right way to start.  

San Francisco  

As a self-proclaimed ‘Hippy Dippy Drag Queen’, you can imagine, I love the whole hippy, summer of love vibe, and have always been drawn to San Francisco. Most creatives have to work other jobs to make money and I have worked my fair share of pretty terrible ones. I was working in a call centre getting shouted at by the general public and just found myself dreaming of being a big hippy, doing nothing in San Francisco. Fingers crossed it happens one day!

What Else Am I Good For?

Lockdown was a very big turning point for me as a writer as I found myself constantly thinking about things that I could normally distract myself from. One of which was how low my self-esteem was (it’s still an issue but we’re getting there). I had based all of my worth on being good at one thing and was so filled with anxiety in case it was taken away. I wanted the song to be ‘sad but funky’ – even if it’s sad, if I can put a funky bass line over it then we’re all good.  

The Wooden Woman

‘The Wooden Woman’ is all about the person I become when I'm anxious and the pain that causes both myself and those around me. The song is set to target a certain stigma around mental health and how relevant it is and why we need to talk about it. This song is me at my most vulnerable. Musically, I kept it very simple to allow space for the lyrics and overall style of the song to be more apparent. The song is witchy, floaty, and honest. This song is very self-reflective, and I hope people can take what they need from it. Whilst being sad in some respects, I want the song to feel very connected from one version of myself to the other. The honesty of this song brings me a great amount of empowerment.

The Subtleties of Sadness

This song is a conclusion to the album. The song is all about the pain of self-growth and detachment. It's also a bridge connecting the concepts of this album to new music I'm working on now. In order to make this album, I had to be very open with myself, my past traumas and face a lot of things about myself in order to grow. I grew apart from people, had my heart broken (and wrote about it), questioned my gender, my sexuality, and my sense of self. Self-growth comes at the price of having to be uncomfortable and let go of things that are no longer serving. This song sums up that experience and the overall journey of the album. (it's also sad without a funky bassline which is rare for me).

[brushandneedles]

Vintage Jazz T-Shirt Online: A Nostalgic Symphony of Style and Musical Passion

In the vast landscape of fashion, one trend stands out as a timeless and classic expression of both style and passion: vintage jazz T-shirts. These shirts not only serve as a wardrobe staple but also represent a unique blend of nostalgia, musical appreciation, and a touch of artistic flair. In this comprehensive article, we will delve into the allure of vintage jazz T-shirts, exploring their historical roots, design elements, and the thriving online market that caters to enthusiasts seeking to blend fashion with a love for jazz.

I.                   The Timeless Allure of Vintage Jazz T-Shirts

Vintage Jazz T-Shirts possess a timeless allure, transporting wearers to the bygone era of jazz brilliance. Infused with nostalgia, each shirt is a wearable tribute to iconic musicians and the vibrant energy of jazz clubs. Beyond fashion, these shirts encapsulate the very essence of an enduring musical legacy.

A. Nostalgia in Every Thread

Vintage jazz T-shirts transport us to an era when jazz music reigned supreme, and its influence permeated every aspect of culture. These shirts serve as tangible reminders of iconic jazz performances, legendary musicians, and the vibrant energy of jazz clubs from bygone decades.

B. Musical Passion Woven into Fabric

Each vintage jazz T-shirt is more than just an article of clothing; it is a canvas that captures the essence of jazz. From intricate designs depicting instruments to silhouettes of jazz legends, these shirts allow enthusiasts to wear their musical passion proudly.

II.                Historical Roots of Jazz T-Shirts

The Historical Roots of Jazz T-Shirts are deeply intertwined with the rebellious spirit of jazz and its influence on fashion. Emerging as an extension of the genre's creativity, these shirts echo the iconic album art and graphic design trends, making them a visual homage to the historic connection between jazz and style.

A. Jazz and Fashion Evolution

The connection between jazz and fashion has deep roots, with jazz musicians often influencing trends with their distinctive style. Jazz T-shirts emerged as a natural extension of this relationship, reflecting the rebellious spirit and creative energy synonymous with the genre.

B. Iconic Jazz Album Art

Many vintage jazz T-shirts feature iconic album art that has become synonymous with the music itself. Designs inspired by albums like Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue" or John Coltrane's "A Love Supreme" pay homage to not just the music but the visual artistry associated with jazz.

III.             Design Elements of Vintage Jazz T-Shirts

Vintage Jazz T-Shirts boast design elements that evoke the classic aesthetics of jazz's golden era. From timeless typography reminiscent of mid-20th-century jazz posters to monochrome color schemes and depictions of jazz icons and instruments, each shirt is a harmonious blend of graphic sophistication and musical passion.

A. Classic Typography

Vintage jazz T-shirts often showcase classic typography reminiscent of the fonts used in jazz posters and album covers from the mid-20th century. The lettering itself becomes a nod to the graphic design trends of the jazz era.

B. Monochrome and Contrast

Monochrome color schemes and high-contrast designs are prevalent in vintage jazz T-shirts, mirroring the black-and-white photography and graphic design aesthetics of the time. These elements add a touch of sophistication to the shirts.

C. Jazz Icons and Instruments

From the trumpet to the saxophone and silhouettes of iconic jazz musicians, vintage jazz T-shirts celebrate the instruments and personalities that define the genre. These designs pay tribute to the instrumental voices that shaped jazz history.

IV.             The Online Market for Vintage Jazz T-Shirts

The Online Market for Women jazz t shirt online is a treasure trove for enthusiasts seeking sartorial expressions of their musical passion. Curated collections, customization options, and limited edition releases showcase the diversity and exclusivity available. Online platforms cater to a global audience, creating a vibrant community of jazz-inspired fashion enthusiasts.

A. Curated Collections

Online platforms specializing in vintage jazz T-shirts curate collections that showcase the diversity of designs and styles. Enthusiasts can explore shirts inspired by specific eras, artists, or jazz sub-genres.

B. Customization and Personalization

Some online retailers offer customization options, allowing customers to add a personal touch to their vintage jazz T-shirts. This may include choosing specific designs, colors, or even incorporating personalized messages.

C. Limited Edition Releases

To cater to the exclusivity sought by collectors and enthusiasts, some online platforms release limited edition vintage jazz T-shirts. These limited runs often feature rare designs or collaborations with contemporary artists, adding a sense of rarity and prestige.

V.                Fashion Fusion: Styling Vintage Jazz T-Shirts

Fashion Fusion with Vintage Jazz T-Shirts offers a versatile canvas for enthusiasts to showcase their love for jazz. Effortlessly blending with casual wear or adding flair to formal attire, these shirts provide endless styling possibilities. The fusion of musical passion and fashion creates a symphony of style for jazz aficionados.

A. Casual Chic

Vintage jazz T-shirts effortlessly blend with casual wear, offering a laid-back yet sophisticated look. Pairing them with jeans, skirts, or shorts creates an ensemble that exudes a cool and effortless vibe.

B. Layering for Versatility

For a more dynamic and versatile look, enthusiasts can experiment with layering vintage jazz T-shirts. Whether it's under a blazer or over a turtleneck, layering adds a touch of creativity to the outfit.

C. Jazzing Up Formal Wear

Surprisingly, vintage jazz T-shirts can also find a place in formal wear. When paired with tailored trousers or a pencil skirt and complemented with elegant accessories, they can add a playful yet refined element to a more polished look.

VI. Caring for Vintage Jazz T-Shirts

A. Gentle Washing

Preserving the integrity of vintage jazz T-shirts requires a delicate approach to washing. Turning the shirt inside out, using a mild detergent, and opting for a gentle cycle can help maintain both the fabric and the printed design.

B. Storage Tips

Proper storage is crucial for preserving the quality of vintage jazz T-shirts. Storing them in a cool, dark place, away from direct sunlight and humidity, prevents fading and deterioration.

C. Avoiding Ironing on Prints

Ironing directly on printed designs can damage the imagery. To maintain the crispness of vintage jazz T-shirts, it is advisable to iron them inside out or place a cloth between the iron and the print.

VII. Conclusion: A Symphony of Style and Passion

In conclusion, Men jazz t shirt online epitomize a fusion of style and musical passion, offering enthusiasts a unique way to connect with the rich history of jazz. Whether exploring the online market, donning these shirts for casual or formal occasions, or caring for them to ensure longevity, embracing vintage jazz T-shirts is an homage to a timeless era of musical and sartorial excellence. As we wear these shirts, we not only showcase our love for jazz but also become walking ambassadors of a cultural legacy that continues to resonate through the fabric of time.

[mcneelamusic]

My Favourite Musical Gift Ideas for Christmas 2020

Now more than ever, the world needs music. Music has been scientifically proven to have a profoundly positive effect on your mental health.

Learning and playing music is also the ultimate brain train game and keeps the brain healthy and active and can even reverse decline.

I started selling bodhráns over 41 years ago. Since then McNeela Music has grown to include concertinas, flutes, whistles, fiddles, banjos, accordions and so much more.

Giving the gift of music is one of the greatest things you can do. So to help you choose the perfect traditional Irish musical gift I’ve compiled my list of top gifts for Christmas 2020.

You’ll find musical stocking fillers and Secret Santa ideas to beautifully crafted Irish instruments and that something extra special for the person who already has it all.

If you don’t see what you’re looking for get in touch and I’ll do my best to help.

– Paraic

Contents

Musical Stocking Fillers

Secret Santa Around €50

Gifts For Children

Irish Music Gifts for Under the Tree

Money No Object

Books & CDs

Under €100 ($)

Under €250 ($$)

Under €500 ($$$)

Under €1,000 ($$$$)

Under €2,000 ($$$$$)

Musical Stocking Fillers

Clarke Celtic Whistle

– The original penny whistle is a perennial favourite. This dark green Celtic whistle is the perfect musical Christmas gift for all ages and abilities, and is very pocket friendly too!

Robot Instrument Stand

– A colourful way to display your instruments and keep them within easy reach. This is a nifty fold away instrument stand and will hold a whole host of string instruments.

Metal Cheating Spoons

– For the percussionist in your life who wants to try out the spoons these cheating spoons make it easy to get started.

Flute Maintenance Kit

– A best-seller, we sell at least one practically every day, being a flute player myself I find that this is an invaluable kit designed to keep your wooden flute in tip-top condition.

Selection of Bodhrán Beaters

Bodhrán players are constantly trying out new beaters and tippers and will always welcome new additions to their collection. Take a look at my selection, all at stocking (!) friendly prices. I recommend the Fiddle Bow Beater and the Brush Beater if you’re stuck for ideas.

Shaskeen Live and kicking Double CD

– I’d recommend this for all lovers of traditional Irish music and the céilí band style and makes a great gift for the Irish music lover in your life

The McNeela Musical T-Shirt

Everyone who wears this comes back raving about the quality of the material and the comfortable fit. It also gets great feedback at sessions. Better still, it has been screen printed using cutting edge water based inks by local Dublin lads. Oh and the answer is on the back!

Drum Diddly Bodhrán Cream

This is my best-selling premium bodhrán conditioning cream, so good you can use it on your own hands, because you’re worth it! It also resurrects the goatskin to a startling degree and really enhances the tone. Sixty 5-star reviews can’t be wrong!

Quick Draw Capo

-My best-selling Capo, slide it on and never take it off. Perfect for nearly all stringed instruments.

Bodhrán Mic – This five-star rated bodhrán mic has astounded bodhrán players thanks to its ability to capture that beautiful bass tone plus the price ain’t bad at all!

The McNeela Violin Shoulder Rest

Designed to fit 3/4 and full size violins this beautifully crafted fully adjustable professional maple wood shoulder rest boasts an excellent fit, high comfort value and a professional finish plus it fits neatly into a Christmas stocking!

The FZONE Chromatic Violin Clip-On Tuner

-I use tuners all the time and this one is a top seller garnering great reviews plus it’s handy. Just attach it to the violin neck and tune up.

Premium Carbon Fibre Violin Bow – my coffee brown violin bow with snakewood frog weighs only 65 grams and gets a gorgeous rich tone from the strings.

Secret Santa Around €50

Gallon Cross Bodhr��n Set – This beautiful screen printed 12″ bodhrán not only looks great but comes with a beater and an instruction DVD by yours truly. This is a perfect Celtic music Christmas gift for the percussionist in your life.

Lee Oskar Harmonica – You can’t go wrong with a Lee Oskar Harmonica. Suitable for playing Blues, Rock, Country, Folk and Jazz.

Books & CDs

Feadóg Tin Whistle Set – Tom Maguire’s classic method has inspired and introduced countless players to the joys of the tin whistle and this set contains everything you need in one with a tin whistle and demonstration CD.

The Irish Flute by Fintan Vallely – I still consult my Vallely Irish flute book for everything from practice tips to flute maintenance, very comprehensive and full of interesting information all presented in Vallely’s unique style.

Foinn Seisiún

The Foinn Seisiún Series starts with the Foinn Seisiún 1 book and is a library essential for those of you interested in getting to grips with Irish session tune sets. You can also buy the accompanying CD to play along with, magic.

Feochán CD by Robert Harvey – 7 time All-Ireland champion, Robert Harvey, was in with us recently playing some McNeela flutes and whistles. His playing astounded me. His acclaimed debut album would be a great Christmas gift for whistle and flute lovers or anyone who appreciates great traditional Irish music.

Extreme TGI Banjo Gig Bag – TGI make very smart instrument cases and their Extreme range is a particular favourite. Get it for the tenor banjo player in your life. It also fits a mandola.

Irish Flute Box – Another best-selling item and one of my top selling cases. It’s foam-lined, shock-proof and has a section for whistles. This is a must-have for the flute player in your life.

Gifts For Children

McNeela 14 inch Bodhrán – this bodhrán is a perfect size for ages 7 and up, it has all the features of a professional bodhrán, including the rich & warm McNeela signature bass, but in a child-friendly size

The Wren Concertina – This beginner concertina has been a best-seller of mine for years with good reason; it’s a great child-friendly size, it features large white buttons for easy finger placement, a clean bright sound and it comes with free beginner lessons with Caitlín Nic Gabhann.

Easy String Violin – My Easy String violin range is perfect for young delicate fingers. It takes the pain out of practicing and helps them get their note placement faster and more comfortably. The price cannot be beaten!

Cygnet Rosewood Wooden Flute – the Cygnet is specially designed for beginners both young and older. I’ve made the embouchure easier to fill and the flute itself is lightweight for a wooden flute. Not only that but it produces a beautiful soft tone, enough to get them hooked on the Irish flute style.

Tony Dixon Practice Flute – for the very young player this lightweight polymer practice flute will be a great entry to Irish flute playing and it’s at a nice learner level price too.

Irish Music Gifts for Under the Tree

Under €100 ($)

Premium bodhrán Gig Bag – we designed this bag to be sturdy yet lightweight and with plenty of cushioning for your bodhrán. I also added a handy beater pocket at the front plus rubber floor protectors. It looks fantastic in striking black and carmine and Celtic forest green colourways.

14” Non-Tunable bodhrán

– one of my best sellers, this comes with taped goatskin to get that signature luscious bass sound. A joy to play it’s perfect for young or petite players and a great travel size too.

Susato Penny Whistle

This is a top choice for many an established whistle player in Ireland. No one could believe the tone they could get from a ‘plastic’ whistle! It’s a great Christmas gift for the tin whistle or flute player in your life.

Bodhrán Beater Set 2020 Edition You will never go wrong giving a bodhrán player more beaters! Firstly, we’re always losing them and secondly we love to try out new styles. This set has it all.

Under €250 ($$)

Duo-Head Low D Flute & Whistle (TB022) by Tony Dixon – An excellent low D whistle and flute combo by Tony, you get two great instruments for the price of one with its dual-head accessory. It’s great for learners.

Setanta Low Whistle in D – John O’Brien has made the Setanta Low Whistle even more perfect. I’d even go so far as to say it is unmatched. This is a serious whistle, grab one before they sell out (again!).

The Setanta Low Whistles are also available in a Full Set of E, Eb & D

14″ Tuneable Bodhrán – this perfect travel size bodhrán comes with tuners so you never have to leave your perch at the session! It’s a great Christmas gift for a young beginner or for someone who wants to add to their bodhrán collection.

The Koda Mandolin – if they can play the violin, they can play the mandolin, the fingering’s the same. This vintage style mandolin by well known makers, Koda, will look great under the tree too!

Under €500 ($$$)

Wren 2 Concertina

This magical music machine is my best-selling concertina and just perfect for the beginner concertina player. I upgraded it in 2020 and it is even better than ever. The reviews are consistently excellent and it’s a lovely gift for any aspiring musician, plus you get superb online video beginner lessons absolutely free when you buy.

The Lon Dubh Delrin Irish Flute – it sounds so good, no one will know it’s not wood! I recommend this gorgeous flute for players in very hot, dry or cold climates. It is virtually maintenance free and it will never crack. It’s fast becoming a favourite here at McNeela Music.

Rosewood Performance Deep Rim 15” Tunable Bodhrán

I think the addition of tuners to bodhráns was a major leap forward for this great Irish drum; hand tuners are very convenient for uninterrupted playing all night long.

The deep Rosewood rim adds a beautiful aesthetic, this is one you’ll want to hang on your wall when you’re not obsessively playing it!

Oh, and how can I forget you also receive a comprehensive online introduction and beginner lesson to the bodhrán by yours truly – free with all purchases of McNeela tuneable bodhráns PLUS 8 bonus bodhrán lessons with bodhrán playing legend, Rónán Ó Snodaigh.

The Wave Bodhrán Set – One player has described receiving his Wave bodhrán as ‘a religious experience’! For the bodhrán player that has it all, this will seriously impress them.

The set includes everything an experienced player needs including a selection of advanced beaters, a premium travel bag plus full access to Rónán Ó Snodaigh’s complete Beginner to Master Bodhrán Course.

Under €1,000 ($$$$)

Arie de Keyser Keyless Flute

I currently have a small number of these stunning African Blackwood flutes ready to ship. Arie is famous for crafting beautiful wooden flutes for the traditional Irish market. His African Blackwood Irish flute would be a market leader. Hurry, if you want one as stock is very limited.

McNeela African Blackwood Flute – I’m very proud of this flute as it represents a culmination of many years of playing and research. It’s a powerful instrument thanks to the density of the blackwood, I’ve ensured that the low D is strong, and the sound has just the right amount of chiff for a great Irish trad sound

Swan Premium Beginner Concertina

– this is not just a very good looking concertina. Its looks showcase a superb instrument featuring terrific action, a great sound and sublime ease of play.

Perfect for beginners and improvers who want something a little more premium from their concertina; it’s also a favourite with pros. Plus it comes with free online lessons by Caitlín Nic Gabhann exclusive to McNeela Instruments!

Maestro Violin – this is one of those gems that no one can believe costs less than a €1,000. It produces a heavenly sound and is just made for traditional and folk music the world over. Listen to Liam O’Connor play it if you don’t believe me.

McNeela Keyed Delrin Flute – You won’t find such a superb keyed flute for a lower price anywhere. It’s crafted from low-maintenance hardwearing Delrin yet produces a gorgeous woody tone and is great for playing traditional and folk tunes both solo or in a group.

Under €2,000 ($$$$$)

Phoenix Concertina

– my best selling intermediate concertina is a game changer for the market. Superb sound, fast riveted action, ease of play second to none and the finish is a study in subtle elegance, you may never need another concertina.

Sam Murray Keyless Blackwood Flute – Sam Murray is one of Ireland’s greatest flute makers. I currently have two of these sought after flutes ready to ship now. So beat the queue and get your hands on the Rolls Royce of Irish flutes.

McNeela 3 Voice Premium B/C Accordion – Stun them with a gift of this premium 3 voice concertina featuring Czech made ‘tipo a mano’ reeds for a powerful accordion tone. It sounds as good as it looks and comes with a hard case and sturdy shoulder straps for a limited time only.

Sam Murray Keyed Blackwood Flute – Sam’s list of admirers is endless and includes myself so I’m deeply honoured to be an exclusive stockist of Sam’s work – his keyed African blackwood is a superstar among Irish flutes, there aren’t enough superlatives really.

Money No Object

Sam Murray Keyed Blackwood Flute – Sam’s list of admirers is endless and includes myself so I’m deeply honoured to be an exclusive stockist of Sam’s work – his keyed African blackwood is a superstar among Irish flutes, there aren’t enough superlatives really.

For the man, woman or child who already has everything, we have some very special antique concertinas. Each one is unique, displaying the ultimate in craftsmanship and musicality and most importantly has been hand selected with superb playability in mind and that inimitable quality of vintage warmth and all the stories the instrument has to tell.

This Wheatstone Linota Concertina is a rare specimen and a really special ‘find’ for the concertina lover in your life. Feel free to call me about this if you wish to discuss shipping etc.

I can’t think of a more special way to wish someone all the joys of the Christmas season. This is truly a gift for life.

Choose from antique Jeffries, Wheatstone & Lachenal concertinas and vintage violins bows.

Please get in touch with me for any extra details you may require and to experience the legendary 5-star McNeela customer service.

Contact: service@mcneelamusic.com or call me on +353 1 8322432

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Jazz and Beyond: Thelonious Monk's Impact on Musical Genres

Introduction:

Thelonious Monk, a trailblazer in the world of jazz, not only left an indelible mark on the genre but also played a pivotal role in influencing a multitude of musical styles beyond the confines of traditional jazz. This article delves into the avant-garde genius of Monk, exploring the diverse realms of music he touched and analyzing how his innovative approach continues to resonate across various genres. Dress in the avant-garde elegance of Thelonious Monk with our T-shirts, celebrating the jazz icon's distinctive style and timeless influence on musical innovation.

I. The Monk Sound: Avant-Garde Jazz as a Catalyst

Thelonious Monk's avant-garde approach to jazz was characterized by dissonant harmonies, unorthodox rhythms, and angular melodies that defied conventional norms. This section examines how Monk's unique sound acted as a catalyst, challenging the status quo and laying the groundwork for the evolution of diverse musical genres.

II. Bebop and Beyond: Monk's Impact on Jazz Evolution

Monk emerged during the bebop era, contributing significantly to the genre's development. Analyzing key compositions such as "Round Midnight" and "Blue Monk," we explore how his harmonic innovations and unconventional phrasing influenced the trajectory of jazz, setting the stage for future explorations in the genre.

III. Monk's Compositional Approach: A Blueprint for Innovation

Monk's distinctive compositional approach, marked by irregular phrasing and unexpected harmonic choices, becomes a blueprint for innovation. This section dissects his compositions, highlighting their idiosyncrasies and demonstrating how they served as a foundation for musicians seeking to push the boundaries of established musical conventions.

IV. Fusion and Experimentation: Monk's Influence on Miles Davis

Thelonious Monk's impact extended into the realm of jazz fusion and experimentation. The article explores Monk's collaboration with Miles Davis, particularly on the album "Miles Davis Plays Thelonious Monk," and delves into how Monk's compositions provided fertile ground for Davis's pioneering exploration of fusion.

V. Rock and Pop: Monk's Unlikely Influence

Monk's influence transcended jazz, reaching into the realms of rock and pop. Analyzing covers and adaptations of Monk's compositions by artists like The Police and Björk, we uncover how his avant-garde spirit resonated with musicians outside the jazz sphere, leaving an unexpected but lasting impact.

VI. Hip Hop Sampling: Monk's Beats in the Digital Age

Thelonious Monk's beats and riffs found a new life in the digital age through hip-hop sampling. This section explores how Monk's compositions became a treasure trove for hip-hop producers, blending the old with the new and introducing Monk's avant-garde essence to a younger, diverse audience.

VII. Monk's Influence on Contemporary Jazz: The Next Generations

The article examines how Monk's influence reverberates in contemporary jazz through the works of artists like Jason Moran and The Bad Plus. These musicians continue to draw inspiration from Monk's avant-garde innovations, infusing his spirit into their own compositions and ensuring the ongoing relevance of Monk's musical legacy.

VIII. Cultural Impact: Monk as a Symbol of Individuality

Thelonious Monk's persona goes beyond music; he becomes a symbol of individuality and nonconformity. This section explores how Monk's eccentricities and distinctive style shaped his cultural impact, influencing artists across disciplines and fostering a broader appreciation for uniqueness in the arts.

IX. Legacy and Recognition: Monk's Posthumous Influence

Even after his passing, Thelonious Monk's influence remains palpable. This section delves into the recognition Monk received posthumously, from the establishment of the Thelonious Monk Institute of Jazz to the annual Thelonious Monk International Jazz Piano Competition, ensuring that his legacy continues to be celebrated and cultivated.

X. The Enduring Mystique: Thelonious Monk's Avant-Garde Imprint

The article concludes with reflections on the enduring mystique of Thelonious Monk and his avant-garde imprint on musical genres. Monk's impact on jazz and beyond is a testament to the transformative power of individual expression and the timeless allure of musical innovation.

Conclusion:

Thelonious Monk's avant-garde approach to jazz not only revolutionized the genre but also rippled across diverse musical landscapes, leaving an indelible imprint on bebop, fusion, rock, pop, hip-hop, and contemporary jazz. As we navigate the multifaceted influence of Monk's musical genius, we discover a legacy that extends far beyond the traditional boundaries of jazz, resonating with artists and audiences across generations and genres. Thelonious Monk, a pioneer of individuality and sonic exploration, remains an enduring symbol of the limitless possibilities that arise when creativity knows no constraints. "Embrace the avant-garde spirit with our Thelonious Monk-inspired T-shirt, a stylish homage to the jazz maestro's iconic flair and musical innovation.

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