Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Periwinkle ...



This all started last week? Maybe the week before. I was walking behind a woman in the Skywalk. She was wearing green leggings, subtle camouflage pattern, with a grey sweatshirt -- hood up -- and an oversized green jacket. She had black booties and a worn-looking green bag that hung low. 

She'd glanced at me when I entered the same stairwell and a few steps later, just as I was plotting how I could create an adaptation of her outfit, she turned around and said four magic words:

"I love your look."

I was so thrown that all I could do was stammer "ILOVEYOURLOOK" and then find the nearest mirror so I could pretend I was a stranger looking at myself.

The next day I was walking to my car and I saw her again and again she'd knocked it out of the park with some sort of kicky jacket that made her seem like she was coming up for air in a pool of faux fur.

And she didn't say a word. She just cruised past and didn't even acknowledge me on a fashion peer level. "I'm the one with the look!," I wanted to say. "Not today, I guess, no, but yesterday! I had a look! (What do you think of this look. Today?)"

I've sort of been trotting out this Celebrity Caught by Paps at Starbucks thing. Big sweaters, leggings, boots, red lipstick, terrible hair and a slightly disoriented look. Venti vanilla latte with soy milk. That's how I got her the first time (Reminder: "I love your look") but it has failed since that first day.

Which brings us to ...  

"Periwinkle," Chuck says when I walk into the living room. He's talking about my leggings, which I'm wearing with a striped jumper and mustard cardigan. I'd purposefully grabbed three things completely unrelated and then added a scarf.

Shit's getting real.

"I've got to get that girl," I say, breezing past to the full length mirror.
I decide on a pair of slouchy grey booties, twisting and giving them every angle.
"She's like your new Greener," he says watching, baby on his hip.

Greener was a ritual. On my most questionable of costume-y of days I'd step into her office for a wardrobe critique. Other days I'd slink by on tip toes and hope she didn't notice I'd gone hard core norm core.

"Yeah, if Greener went to Harbor City," I say, referencing a charter high school filled with fashion-forward teens.
"Wait ... I Love Your Look Lady is in high school?" he asks.
"I thought I told you that," I say.
He's cackling.
"I thought she was like a woman who worked downtown," he says.
"Oh no," I say. "High school student. And she's coooool."
More cackling.

2 comments:

Laurie said...

Last night at the thrift store I as admiring some young girls super cool blonde and pink hair and she said, "I love your hat!" and I positively gushed "I LOVE YOUR HAIR!!!". It was cool and embarrassing at the same time.

CDP said...

I miss reading this and I love the mustard cardigan.