Rachael Belle:n galleria

UB40's at Brooklyn Bowl tonight and I'm easing into it the only way I know — reggae on the speaker, coffee still brewing, and this robe refusing to stay where I put it. Baby, pour the second cup or come claim the first?

The glitter washed off but the sugar skull stayed — the dead get their two days and I'm not rude enough to rush them. Baby, help me finish the altar or come undo what's left of me?

Tiësto's set at OMNIA and every strobe pulse turns this mesh into nothing — Halloween weekend and I'm already the most transparent thing in the room. Baby, find me in the crowd before someone else does.

Hottieween at Zouk says costume mandatory, so I'm going as myself — wings and absolutely nothing else. Baby, is that cheating or is that winning?

Bryan Adams is playing everything unplugged at the Wynn tonight, so I'm matching the energy — nothing loud, nothing buttoned, just me and the quiet. Baby, come be my audience of one or let me practice on you?

Mary J. Blige opens her residency at Dolby Live tonight and my body already knows every word. The robe was supposed to be a starting point, not the whole look — come finish dressing me or talk me out of it?

Epik High at House of Blues tonight and instead of sleeping I fell headfirst into their whole discography on the kitchen floor. Baby, rap the verse with me or come tuck me in first?

Lime green isn't a color, it's a personality, and Charli XCX is about to get all of mine at MGM Grand. Baby, tell me this outfit brats hard enough or come adjust it yourself?

Boy Harsher at House of Blues and the dark synths have me dressed exactly like the music sounds. Baby, disappear into the crowd with me or keep me dancing right here?

Golden Knights tonight and I've decided the jersey counts as a full outfit. Come argue with me about the dress code, baby, or admit it wins?