I am in love

I went to the store the other day (I know this story starts off like many many other of my stories, but hold on) to pick up a random item. I honestly think it is a completely wasted trip if I make it to the register and have only one item, so I decided to look around for something else that I might want...since I was there. I remembered that I wanted to try another nail color so I found their selection. One little bottle caught my eye and I bought it. I must say: "where have you been all of my life?" I love this color. It is called Plum Vamp.

So I am kind of upset at the name. My first reaction to the term "vamp" was negative in that my typical idea is that the definition is "a seductive woman who uses her sensuality to exploit men." Now no comments from the peanut gallery, but I didn't exactly want to walk around waving my (very cute) hands with the message..."Hey guys, let me exploit you." Not that in this or any parallel reality any man would actually think I was serious. But that is beside the point. I promise this story will actually end.
So I was kind of sad, and I racked my brain for alternate meanings of the word, and remembered all of the horrid music lessons of my past. And there you have it...a vamp. A Jazz term : an accompaniment, usually improvised, consisting of a succession of simple chords.
All is right with the world. I can guiltlessly love my new nail color, and its racy name. I love Jazz. By the way, the Jazz Festival is going on!!!!