(no subject)
I've become obsessed with the idea of being a secretary. Yesterday I went to a job interview for a receptionist position at Sunbanks. Getting dressed for the event I felt giddy pulling my stockings up over my tattoo, pulling my bra tight over my piercings, pulling on a tweed skirt, white shirt, cardigan, blazer and kitten heels. When I was finished I could barely recognize myself and it was beautiful. I looked in the mirror and saw a conservative but perceptive young girl who probably went to a liberal arts college in the East; somebody who never huffed gas as 15 year old, jumped on cars in South America, had their heart broken by a coward or got drunk at work. The idea of that deception positively thrilled me. I fell in love with it. How was I to know that Sunbanks was a tanning salon? They would have preferred me in a turquoise tank top with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth.
Tomorrow I start work at Courage My Love, which, for reasons that I can't see, is the most famous Toronto vintage clothing store. This might have made me happy two days ago, but now I want to be a secretary (especially if my boss looks like James Spader). So I'm going to stay in Toronto, because they don't hire illegal immigrants to be secretaries in New York. I'm also staying, because "For those on the run, New York should be a last stop". On Moday I have an interview at Preloved, where I would be working with Esther, a girl from Vancouver who seems to be one of those people who don't need to be secrataries to build walls. I remember watching her in an English course and wondering how anybody could possibly sit so still while taking copious notes. I'll probably stay with Courage my Love for a little bit, if only because I love the name, and for the fact that in vintage a few flaws are expected.