#snobbery
It's the weekend (Friday night). Lisa and I are hangin’, music’s playing, and we’re rummaging through my suitcase, for an outfit option, for me, tonight. Call it cliché, but we like going out - and getting ready to go out with a friend, beforehand, is one of the rituals of beauty culture.
Let’s get poetic!
*If the sun is gonna shine
in an endless blue (climate-changed) sky,
if the temperature’s going to climb,
until eggs on sidewalks fry,
then it’s lighter, summer-wear time.*
I made sure Lisa and I had two days, in Paris, to shop the Rue Saint-Honoré. ***** 5th avenue, the 1st arrondissement is la capitale of fashion - after all, it’s Coco Chanel's old haunt. Now, we have Armani, Chloe, Dior, Michael Kors, Hermès and Versace - just to name a few - I mean, gag a fashionista.
Looking for bargains? You’re in the wrong place.
If you’re down and thinking the world is turning to.. well, something bad, then you NEED some fashion, some beauty and some elegance. You don’t even need to buy anything - browsing is sumptuous.
The boutiques are sound-proofed - so the world won’t intrude - and thickly carpeted so even your steps are muffled - or marble floored, polished to a fractured brilliance under the lit spiderwebs of fallen-star-lights. And the fragrances - no cap - the very air is different - it smells like aged money - that was a joke - they take new money these days.
What’s important, in these palaces of style, are the whispered promises of unattainable beauty. Just browsing will up your game, because inspiration is everywhere, in sheens that put butterflies to shame, supima-cottons as soft as a sigh, and dresses that swirl like magic - and so many accessories.
Lisa and I are young and easily ignored. Sales staff in these boutiques wear a leotard of arrogance, that fits like skin - the arrogance of people talking down to lesser folk.
Lisa gasped when she saw a delicate, white ecru-cotton and silk-poplin mid-length shirt-dress by Dior. “Look at this,” she said softly, running her fingers along the delicate hem. I checked the tag, it read: €2770 ($3000).
At that moment, a salesgirl - who looked to be 25ish - stalked over with a "look but don't touch" vibe that implied we weren’t worthy to touch the merchandise - or maybe be there at all.
I bristled for Lisa, who’d withdrawn her hand as if burnt. I fished my phone from my clutch (it has a card-carry-case attached) and waved my black Centurion® Card (which can serve as a fu^k-you passport),
“Have you got this in a French-36?” I jibbed, obstreperously (of course I know Lisa’s size). If my return-rudeness stung the salesgirl, there was nothing she could do with it.
An older lady that I assumed was her supervisor joined us, all smooth smiles and low honey voice, “Hello ladies,” she said, as she glided around us like a wraith. “Go see (about the dress),” she told the young clerk, dismissively.
The original salesgirl gave us a brittle smile that came and went like an eye blink, “Oui,” she said, smartly, while spinning away like a top.
“Would you like a glass of wine or champagne?” The supervisor purred.
“Non, merci (No thank you),” I said, smiling curtly.
“We have it,” the original sales girl announced a moment later.
“We’ll take it,” I pronounced.
“NOo,” Lisa said, jerking as if electrically shocked.
I waved my hand, as if scattering dust, “My treat.”
Lisa insisted on trying it on. It fit like a dream and she looked like a supermodel (My dress needed tailoring - the bust taken in sigh). So, at least we know what she’s wearing tonight.
.
.
songs for this:
Glamor Girl by Louie Austen
Baby You’re a Superstar by NuDisco
Comme ci, comme ça by ZAZ
.
Our cast:
Lisa, (roommate) 20, Manhattanite ‘glamor girl’ (who’d bristle at that description but it’s hundo-p true.) - my bff. A fellow (pre-med) molecular biophysics and biochemistry major.
Jun 1, 2024
Jun 1, 2024 at 12:59 PM UTC
May woe betide you
May the worst of calamities
Strike your kith and kin
May you lose everything
That is dear to you
Every penny of yours
Shall be consigned to the flames
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Serving as divine retribution
For the bundles of cash
That changed hands everyday
Faster than the speed of light
Throughout your deceitful existence
Filled with lies and blackmail
Before eventually finding a safe haven
In your classy, upper middle class dwelling
May woe betide you
May every happy thought of yours
Be ****** out of your conniving minds
May your life be reduced
To one full of manic depression
One incapable of coherent thinking
Thus dwelling only on your failures
Till you eventually succumb
And self-destruct
With a flash of blinding light
Such that, all that is left
Is an unrecognizable form
A wretched caricature of regret
With your souls torn asunder
Leaving the world a little happier
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 10:53 AM UTC
Regarding entitlement
What is really true?
Look at the contract;
What are you entitled to?
Who told you what,
When and where,
And why should anyone
Besides yourself care?
What are the terms of
This entitlement scheme?
Are they exactly as
Precise as they seem?
What was promised
That you feel cheated?
Is there an inheritance
That has not been treated?
Are you an heir or else
A member of royalty
And thus deserve to
Have absolute loyalty?
Are there lands and deeds
You feel are owed you
Or is it just that you feel
Everyone is below you?
It would help you and us
If you could narrow this down.
Do you feel you own everything
And everyone in around?
Do you feel we should bend
And bow as you pass
And that maybe we should
Kiss your noble ***
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC