Brats of the Brunch Table

Yesterday was a beautiful day in NYC. The first lovely Sunday of spring. So I guess, in retrospect, I should have known better.

Of course the Brunch Brats would be out in full force. Of course they would! I suppose they come with the territory of living in this spectacular city. It's just part of the weekend grind – like waiting in line for twenty minutes at Whole Foods or having to avoid a tourist-ridden SoHo. Gah. It just really, really, really puzzles me as to why these girls get all decked out to go to brunch. It’s not dinner on a Friday night. It’s not cocktails on a Saturday. It’s mimosas with a side of homefries, coffee, and pancakes.

Please, pray tell girls, what is the point of getting all decked out, of spending more than two-and-a-half minutes picking out clothes? Of putting together an outfit? Of brushing your hair? And really – you’re really going to put that much makeup on? For reals? Do you think you're going to pick up guys? At brunch? Come on.

The only rationalization I can come up with is that the Brunch Brats live and die for egg white omelets and skim lattes on sunny Sunday afternoons. They don’t happy-hour-it-up Friday night, and they CERTAINLY do not party their pretty little pants off on Saturdays till 4am. Because let me tell you, if they were drinking anything remotely in the familia de alcohol, they would not – I repeat, NOT give two tatas about what they looked like for Sunday Brunch. They wouldn't have the wherewithal to look “cute” and “put together”. They would be hungover like the rest of us.

Don’t get me wrong, I love brunch. Huevos Rancheros is possibly my second favorite food ever (especially from Cornelia St. Café). The difference is that I don’t give a schmee what I look like. Yesterday I donned yoga pants, a sweatshirt, and sneaks to brunch. Did not brush my hair. And most certainly did NOT put a single swipe of makeup on my face. Methinks going forward, in a boycott of all Brunch Brats, that shall be my uniform of choice. Yes, even to Stanton Social (the horror!)

And come on girls, just order cream for your coffee. Skim is stupid.