Yesterday I heard Total Eclipse of the Heart twice: once on the way home from yoga, and once during dinnertime. It reminded me of one of the greatest movie scenes ever; the wedding dance from Old School. I cannot hear that song without mentally substituting the lyrics. I also heard 1999 twice yesterday, but that did not fill me with the same level of joy. Here’s my controversial confession: I do not really enjoy the music of Prince. I don’t NOT enjoy it; I certainly would sing along if When Doves Cry came on the radio, but I do not seek it out.
Another controversial confession: I really, really dislike the music of Tom Petty. And for my money, Beast of Burden is not only the best Rolling Stones song ever written, but I don’t even think there is a close second.
Well, I did not set out today to write about the music of late performers and defunct bands; moving on.
The main music – and I use that word very loosely – I have been treated to lately is that of screaming magpies. Magpies have, evidently, made a nest nearby and every single time I leave my house they are swooping around me, screaming loudly. Barkley seems to be equally targeted, never mind that in a million years he could not reach a nest that is ostensibly thirty feet off the ground. A part of me thinks aw, they are just trying to protect their babies, but after several days of low-flying aggressive magpie action, my thoughts turn to goddammit, no one WANTS your horrible babies, go away. I saw a pair of magpies aggressively chasing away squirrels, though, so there is an upside to this. At least the magpies, as irritating as they may be, are not in the market to eat my bulbs or dig up my flowers.
By the way, my tulips never did bloom, not a single one. They all just lay there in their weirdly flattened foliage, sadly sinking back into the earth from whence they came.
This morning I learned that Sex and the City debuted twenty years ago this year, TWENTY YEARS, PEOPLE. Remember when women would identify with the main characters, as in “You’re such a Charlotte.” Well. Time passages and and all that. A Sex and the City episode was the catalyst for the worst fight my husband and I ever had in our entire relationship, to this day I cannot think about “Your girl is lovely, Hubble,” without thinking of my fury in our tiny apartment on the 30th floor, without being able to even slam a door. At the time it was intense, but now, nearly twenty years later, it seems very lame, that we had a fight about Carrie and Mr. Big.
Nowadays, the only source of marital tension is my One Year Shopping Challenge, which my husband hates with a passion. Just go buy yourself some damn clothes! he has said on numerous occasions. A few weeks ago I was having coffee with a friend (HI TWYLA) and she complimented me on my raincoat, a plaid Lululemon that I bought when the kids were in preschool. Thanks, it’s really old, I said and she shook her head. Are we still doing that, then? The no-buying thing? she asked with sympathy. Yes we are. Less than eight weeks to go and my god, I simultaneously cannot believe I have done it and also I cannot wait for it to be done.
One thing about this challenge is that I have been able to identify some true needs in my wardrobe. Well, “needs” might be a strong word; as my mom always says, I’m not sure the word NEED comes into play here. Wants, then. For starters, on my trip to Mexico I noted that several of my trusty old bikinis no longer fit properly, as in, if I dive too quickly into the water there is going to be an accidental skinny dipping situation. I do still have a couple that can get me through until August 1, so things aren’t really desperate. Still. A new bikini or two would be nice.
I’m also noting that a few of my yoga clothes, while still in good shape, are beginning to look pretty faded and worn, which isn’t too surprising since most of my pieces are over five years old and have withstood a lot of wear and laundering. Some of my tanks and pants are a decade old, some even older. So really, I think I can probably treat myself to a few new pieces. I do find myself in yoga clothes daily, often two different outfits a day, one for practicing in and one for teaching.
Other than that, I’m not too tempted to shop these days, since I do not enjoy the current styles. I already wore them, back in the 90s. Overalls, high waisted pants, crop tops, bodysuits, and ONE PIECE JUMPSUITS. Think about using a public washroom while wearing a jumpsuit, just think about it for a moment. I’ve done all of those styles, and I’m not interested in doing them again, particularly the jumpsuits. Well, and the rest of them. I shall leave the youth styles to the youth and continue to live in my yoga clothes topped with flowy sweaters, like the future Golden Girl that I am. All I need are brightly coloured necklace-and-earring sets and some florals and I’ll be ready to go.
Speaking of colours, I seem to be so desperate to end this shopping challenge that when my husband pointed out some bright orange Lululemon crops to me, I actually thought those look nice. I have never worn such a colour in my entire life and I most likely never will, due to my fear that it would match my hair too closely, but it is illustrative of my desperation.
Also? Speaking of Golden Girls…remember slips? Do women still wear slips? I remember being made to wear slips, particularly to church, back in my childhood. Slips, as I remember, were a guard against a) clinging dresses, b) anything even marginally transparent, and c) immodesty in general. It seems to me that they would be very outmoded now, but I’m curious – does anyone still wear them, or did they go the way of the housedress? When I think of slips, I think of my beloved late grandma, who would also encourage wearing a pin or brooch at one’s neckline to ensure that one was not showing too much of the chest region. I wonder what she would think of my work wear.