The Red Suit

My name Zenobia. I’m a badass queen who beheaded a bad guy and lived as a socialite in her personal villa. And until my wrestler bio is written and posted on the website, that’s all I know about myself.

Last week I was out with friends when I was lucky enough to meet Kathryn Long and Hunter Smith- the masterminds behind the Red Suit Enthusiasm. They told me the whole story, and before I knew it, I was in the middle of a bar in downtown Baltimore posing “ready for battle” in the red suit. This magic suit seriously fits everyone and everyone who puts it on (think Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants), while strangely empowering them, and now we’re all part this untraditional “team.” Despite having worn one of these [rowing] “suits” all through high school and college, I must admit I never felt so bold as to wear mine to a bar, nor post it as a foolish picture on my blog.

For more on the Red Suit catch the “Scarlet Fever” in yesterday’s Baltimore Sun feature.

7 comments

  • I have to admit when I loaded up Pret A Voyager today, I didn’t expect to see Anne in a red suit. Maybe some designer maps, but not a red suit. Very, very, random… but strangely cool.

  • Zenobia was a quiet child with a penchant for learning and a rather odd tendency to collect and catalogue large numbers of beetles and other winged insects, which she pinned to corkboard backings and stored in her bedroom closet. Her parents, somewhat distracted bohemians who had traded the luxury of their moneyed backgrounds for a charmingly disheveled bungalow and a life of artistic endeavor, assumed that their dark-eyed daughter was simply shy. In actuality, Zenobia spent those quiet and contemplative hours plotting her ascension to the upper ranks of the literati in the Big City, and as soon as she was of age, she took the train and, armed only with a satchel full of her favorite books, several particularly fine specimens of Coleoptera and a mother-of-pearl hairbrush (one of the last vestiges of her family’s aristocratic roots) to comb her famously lustrous hair, found herself alone in the bustling metropolis of Manhattan.
    Once there, with the help of several friends of dubious origin, Zenobia immediately installed herself in an ornately gilded apartment that had nonetheless fallen into a state of shabby disrepair. Our sophist found the effect charming; she brushed the dust from the shelves and filled them with heady tomes, then went on to become one of the most enigmatic and sought-out members of the city’s intellectual elite. An ability to deliver clever puns in any one of the sixteen languages in which she is fluent made Zenobia a charming social companion, and in her extensive travels she was rumoured to have had trysts with both Sultan Hassan of Morocco and Abbas (I), Pasha of Egypt.
    Actively associated with New York’s Cafe Society and known to lurk mysteriously at the outskirts of the Algonquin Round Table, it is said that our Sophist inspired several of Dorothy Parker’s most famous verses and, with her combination of sharp wit and savage beauty, drove several unnamed figures of great literary renown to near madness.
    As a Red Suit Enthusiast, Zenobia is one of our most ascerbic yet delightful members and, when not lurking in the carefully guarded privacy of her personal quarters (so necessary for the cultivation of her intellectual pursuits), one who never fails to enliven our conversations with her peerless cerebral vivacity.

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