Like a jellyfish billowing near the top of the blue water, with light finding its way through diaphanous folds, your skirt flounced in slow motion, a beat behind each purposeful step. You walked like a Parisienne parading a Standard Poodle through Les Tuileries – or even like the poodle herself – each footstep abrupt but delicate; intentional.
From the buttery leather of your brown booties to the grandmotherly chignon that betrayed your Carrie Bradshaw-like aesthetic, you were on a mission.
Perhaps you had just come from a consultation at Barney’s where you were commissioned to create some new artwork, a thankless backdrop for unreasonably expensive designer garments. The clipboard tucked tightly under your left arm may have itself clung to your sketches, lines on paper destined to become your next forgotten oeuvre.
You didn’t even carry a purse.
A man with tattooed fingers held a heavy glass door open, and you were off. You likely slid into a stuffy Mercedes or Lexus SUV and set off to pick up your stepchildren from private school, but I’d like to believe you sped away on a Capri Blue Vespa, skirt be damned, bound for your studio where yards of empty canvas await fat tubes of unctuous gesso and pigment.
3 comments:
You are so cool!
Thanks, Jen! So are you! I would love to be a cool photographer/ missionary living in Asia!
I like you. Remember our stalking of the married Bible Friends in the Caribbean?
Post a Comment