writes about clothes, shoes, hair, make-up, accessories, fashion - anything that's appearance-related, and a good deal else, because appearances are just the beginning.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
I was whizzing down the road at noon in the direction of a latte when I saw the back view of a slim red-headed young man gloriously dressed in pink and purple. In fact, it would have been impossible to miss him.
My first response was a grin, because the combination was so fearless and happy. And deliberate. My second response was to duck into the carpark at the bottom of the hill and fumble for my phone.
I bought said phone before going to Canada. The one I discarded was virtually antique, even though it still worked like a charm. but, so the 2Degrees website had informed me, I needed another kind to be able to call in Canada. I also wanted a camera. For just such occasions as now, when I didn't have my real camera with me.
I wish I hadn't been wearing trackpants preparatory to working in the garden, because I felt foolish explaining to the nice young man that I wrote a style blog. He was too polite to comment. The purple jeans were tight on his narrow legs, and the pink was supplied by a fully tailored, candy-striped sports jacket. He happily agreed to let me take his photo, seemed flattered, even.
So why isn't there a photo here?
Because I couldn't find how to work the damn camera on the damned new phone, that's why. Neither could the nice young man. I knew if we stood there fiddling for long enough, we'd work it out, but how long can you keep a perfect stranger hanging about on the street for your own ends?
I thought there was a good chance he might pass the cafe in 10 minutes or so, so once installed in the window seat there, I had another fiddle with the phone. Still no go.
I asked my neighbour, a man in cycling lycra, if he could help. He'd owned a phone like this, he said, and yes, he could.
I glued my eyes to the pavement and waited. Sadly, I never saw the pink and purple young man again. Some opportunities are just plain lost.
But in spite of not having a picture, I'm grateful to have seen and spoken to him. It was exhilarating - like spotting a rare bird.
I'm a writer. Sometimes I write fiction and sometimes I'd rather do something else, like earn money, travel or dance tango. Whatever I do, I never stop looking. So this blog is about looking to write, writing to see, and seeing to think. I was once the kind of feminist who believed it was wrong to delight in such things. Now I'm the kind of feminist who doesn't believe that at all. I will never, as Linda Grant puts it, go beige into that good night.