Ye Olde Pirate Season Origin Story
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| Mark Todd for the Los Angeles Times |
My wife travels a lot for work, jetting off to cover fashion shows for several weeks at a stretch at least twice a year. I react to these extended-length absences the way any well-adjusted Angeleno husband might: I act like a pirate.
To be more precise, I celebrate what I call “pirate season,” a time-honored tradition that’s part bachelor party without the bachelor and part kids themed birthday party without the kids (or the birthday). It’s a tongue-in-cheek coping mechanism designed to buoy my spirits while we’re apart. (As a bonus, I’m pretty sure pirate season has improved our together time too.)
Its origins lie in the early aughts when my not-yet-wife, in her role as The Times’ fashion critic, started attending the twice-yearly, monthlong New York-to-Paris run of fashion weeks. When I mentioned to my co-worker Vince that I was suddenly facing four weeks of single-like solitude without a plan in place, he told me about a buddy of his.
“Whenever my friend Kai’s girlfriend goes out of town,” Vince said, “he hangs a pirate flag on his balcony, and people know they can come over and party.” -- excerpt from the full story which you can read here.


