Snow
I bought a winter coat two years ago for $15, marked down from $240 or something silly like that. It was the best deal I ever got for a coat, and since then my coat-buying habits have been markedly more squirm-worthy (what? $80 on sale? But I got a coat for $15… etc).
It is white, made of polyester and acrylic with a subtle patterned shell, accented by these tasteful sparkles. Why yes, when I wear it, I do feel like a white sparkly miracle.
Today I finally figured out the real reason I bought it.
Snow looks good on New York. I was walking to my professor’s flat to pick up my opera ticket-we are seeing Orfeo ed Euridice at the Metropolitan Opera tomorrow for class-and it was falling quietly, fluttering down in delicate spirals. I had no hat, and didn’t bother to take an umbrella. The sight was so lovely, a thin and growing blanket of brightness over the dreary landscape of New York in winter. I had to say, with my white sparkly coat I looked rather camouflaged, attested to the fact that a car nearly ran me over. Ho hum.
But I walked slowly, since I rarely get outside these days, and this wasn’t the disgusting, wet, heavy, icy snow that burns your skin when it hits you, it was a benign snow saying, “Hello, it’s winter, aren’t I pretty?” All in all, very Faye-like.
When I got to my professor’s, she invited me to warm my hands on the radiator and look out her window as she fetched the ticket. Inside I was thinking, what could be outside that window? All I could see was a blank white fog, suspended in existence.
But then, as the view became clear, I saw snowflakes fall from a white nothingness, the icy Hudson River just above white sculpted trees from Riverside Park. I just gaped at it.
I took the long way back and purposely waited for all traffic lights. When I got back to my room, my hair was wet, but the snowflakes had provided a little sparkle that matched my coat.
I wasn’t cold at all.