another fragment from the weekend
Sunday afternoon
Bridget and I are at H&M in Downtown Crossing, on a quest to find suits that would suitably prepare ~b for Visits From The French. Or rather, she's shopping for suits. I'm just browsing. and holding a funky little shoulder bag that she picked up in Providence.
I pick out a sweater, a turtleneck and long sleeve t-shirt in varying shades of black and grey (*) and head over to the fitting rooms. There's a short black man with a faint voice and blonde curls supervising the fitting rooms, and when he says "hello" I'm not sure if he's being courteous or in a really good mood. He flips through the clothes draped over my arm and then stops when he sees the bag.
"Oh my. Now, this is interesting."
"Yeah. So are there any dressing rooms open?"
"Where did you get this little treasure?"
"Providence. Actually, my friend got it in Providence. I'm holding it for her while she goes shopping."
He looks up at me. We're quiet for a second.
"Oh, then it's not so interesting, then."
He drops the bag and waves me in the general direction of an open fitting room.
I swear if I were gay, I'd get so much more action ...
(*) - once in grad school, one of my classmates told me that they used to hold betting pools to see if my t-shirt would be grey or black. I avoided the cliche of dressing in all-black to class, but didn't think it was worth the effort to go beyond that. Needless to say, my peers still took notice.
Bridget and I are at H&M in Downtown Crossing, on a quest to find suits that would suitably prepare ~b for Visits From The French. Or rather, she's shopping for suits. I'm just browsing. and holding a funky little shoulder bag that she picked up in Providence.
I pick out a sweater, a turtleneck and long sleeve t-shirt in varying shades of black and grey (*) and head over to the fitting rooms. There's a short black man with a faint voice and blonde curls supervising the fitting rooms, and when he says "hello" I'm not sure if he's being courteous or in a really good mood. He flips through the clothes draped over my arm and then stops when he sees the bag.
"Oh my. Now, this is interesting."
"Yeah. So are there any dressing rooms open?"
"Where did you get this little treasure?"
"Providence. Actually, my friend got it in Providence. I'm holding it for her while she goes shopping."
He looks up at me. We're quiet for a second.
"Oh, then it's not so interesting, then."
He drops the bag and waves me in the general direction of an open fitting room.
I swear if I were gay, I'd get so much more action ...
(*) - once in grad school, one of my classmates told me that they used to hold betting pools to see if my t-shirt would be grey or black. I avoided the cliche of dressing in all-black to class, but didn't think it was worth the effort to go beyond that. Needless to say, my peers still took notice.