It’s a grim day at Modern Love. The January trickle of customers has slowed to an apathetic drip, mirroring the droplets of grimy slush that lecherously caress the smooth cheeks of our window panes, soiling even the view onto the empty, coldhearted street. Nobody looks up when they walk from January to March. We walk with our faces pointed at the alternately salty and icy maze of ravaged snow on the ground, as if invisible hands have us by the napes of our necks and are pushing our noses into it, saying, “Look at the mess you’ve made. Bad. Bad. Bad.” Usually when the world finally assumes an aspect as stricken and desolate as the space within my heart, I try to patch it up by buying something new and pretty. It’s a temporary and plastic fix, like applying lipstick to… well, anybody, but most of the time it works. Today is likely to be no exception; there’s a sweet gold(!) Many Belles Down skirt on sale (50% off!) next door at Queen of Hearts and I intend to wear it to work tonight. The clothes I have on right now have absorbed far too much of my own negative energy to continue into the night.
However, I think I need more than this. I’m usually ok with being “Quick Fix Qu…anita”– many lives are stitched together from a patchwork of careless half remedies and hasty second choices– but lately I’ve been approaching another concept, with trepidation, nibbling at the edges and scurrying away, but with a nagging interest propelling me back to it as soon as it’s quiet again: hope. It would be very nice, I think, to believe that one day the slush will be gone, the sun will beat unmercifully down, and I’ll be having sweaty, sticky, messy summer sex half out the fire escape in the waning light of, oh, 8:45 pm. Hope. I have a friend who doesn’t like to plan fun, and I get it. Spontaneity is awesome. But it’s really, really nice to have something to look forward to.
And this is what I’m looking forward to. The Trinkletina.
Half picnic, half pool party, and candy all over. Don’t you just want to lick that heel? When I’m half out the fire escape, these are staying on. They’ll be here…. soon. From Irregular Choice, $129.