It was 10 months ago, almost to the day, that I sat down with my Wednesday coffee and voiced concerns about the coronavirus. I sat with my cup of coffee and pictured my mother and her ever-percolating Maxwell House on the old olive stove. I sat with my coffee and my memories and, though it may have gone unsaid, I missed friends. I missed the ability to schmooze, the relaxing pleasure of just hanging out. Talking shoes! Talking handbags! Talking men!
Never could I have imagined the world we find ourselves in these 10 months later. But this isn’t about COVID-19. Or politics. Not the subjects that I wish to allow over my Wednesday morning coffee… on Tuesday. Rather, it’s the sense of sitting down with a hot drink and enjoying a bit of conversation. Conversation with a friend. With a group of friends. Perhaps with you.
I miss the ease of that. The spontaneous nature of being able to say (almost) anything. The ability to roam from the serious to the lighthearted and back again.
This morning? Sure, I have plenty pulling at me. No doubt, so do you. The usual stack of bills. The usual to-do list. The ever-annoying aches and pains. The “outside” world. The “inside” world. The inner world in which we all too often circulate… chasing our tails at times.
And then there is the kitchen sink. (I’ll get to that in a moment.)
Fuchsia and Cognac and Ruby, Oh My!
Far more interesting… forget dreams of lions and tigers and bears (oh my!). Within minutes of waking up — was I dreaming it? — I was pondering fuchsia and cognac and red… purses. Not those colors in a single item; my fuchsia crossbody — though in the daylight, perhaps it is more magenta — and another, equally favored, in a rich cognac.
(I don’t remember where I picked up the magenta bag, but it’s a Fossil as is the cognac crossbody from DSW that I love.)
Having left the closet door ajar, I caught a glimpse of my handbags in the earliest hours. And crazy though it sounds, I suddenly felt great! I was filled with a rush of unexpected optimism. Over handbags! Can you imagine? Then I turned my gaze toward the hallway where I was greeted by a gorgeous shade of red. Yup. Another favorite bag.
First, there was the simple pleasure of vibrant color. (I’m highly susceptible to colors. Are you? This may explain why I live with so much red, including in my bedroom.) Second, there was a surprising jolt of nostalgia — for the thought of going out with one of these pretty purses on my shoulder, and how good they always made me feel about life. (Is that silly? Can fashion really help us feel good about life? Isn’t it an art form? Why shouldn’t it enliven the day?)
As for the hallway, that’s where I keep a huge rack of clothes and more shoes — this apartment’s closet situation is, um… a “challenge” — yes, the very same hallway where I do my hall walking. There hangs a red and black Italian bag I picked up years ago during les soldes, in Nice I believe. And oh, the Enzo slides I nabbed last year that go with it so perfectly!
Speaking of nabbing, the January sales are a temptation I’ve been trying to avoid. But… I nabbed a few of these Chico’s tees in all-cotton for $5!! Bateau-neck, too, which is a favorite of mine for its versatility. Pima cotton, nice quality tees for five bucks? I couldn’t pass that up, could you? Especially since I’ve always dressed in black — not every day, but probably five out of seven — and that’s certainly true lately.
I’ve generally brightened my basic black with a scarf, earrings, shoes, and a handbag. (I’ve been crazy about scarves since my first extended séjour in France when I was 15.) So… I just now grabbed a few of the scarves in one of my drawers, set them on my bedspread, and added my magenta bag. After all, aren’t we girlfriends chatting over coffee?
(And no, I don’t wear magenta and pink, but I do wear magenta and black, and pink and black. I know, I know, my photography isn’t optimal, but you get the gist.)
And this brings me back to those first few minutes before getting out of bed and my nostalgic response to handbags.
What I missed in those moments?
The fun of fashion, especially in my accessories. The fun of playing “fashion consultant” many years ago with my oldest, dearest BFF. The pleasure of going out, if only (these days) in my dreams. And imagining that I’m having my Wednesday coffee on Tuesday or any other day with her, in person. And so often, albeit not exclusively, chatting about men and clothes!
Everything AND the Kitchen Sink (Say Bonjour to Coq au Vin)
Ok. So, the kitchen sink… I’m also pondering a stack of dishes that are piled next to the sink along the counter, dishes I don’t feel like washing. But I need to make room for this afternoon‘s cooking fest of coq au vin, one of my favorite recipes that makes a pile of food that lasts a full week.
The fact is, I opened a bottle of red wine for New Year’s, something I’ve never tried before but was able to order with my weekly groceries a few days earlier, and I didn’t like it. I only had a few sips, set it aside to the next day and tried again, hoping that a bit of breathing might make it more to my liking. But it didn’t. So now, since it’s still good but I don’t want to waste what is virtually an entire bottle of wine, I’m going to use it in cooking. And coq au vin requires the “vin” after all… and I have all the other ingredients I need: chicken, red onion, red potatoes, mushrooms, carrots, red pepper, and seasoning.
While I will do the cooking in a few hours, I will likely do the eating tomorrow. This is the type of recipe that yields a much richer flavor a day after it is initially cooked. I’ll get on task, the cooking I mean, in an hour or so.
Pain and Priorities
What else do I care to share?
Yes, yes, it’s obvious I have a bit of a perception “makeover” to work on. Perception of myself. I’ve been living with running inner dialog that is filled with old talk and fat talk. For months. Largely because of weight gain. (And I look older when I’m heavier.) This critical inner dialog has no one other than me to argue with. No girlfriend nearby to shake her head and say, “Now, now, D.A. Just cut that out. DO something about it, but stop knocking yourself down.”
So. This morning I’m happy to be sitting here chitchatting about this and that. I’m happy to be thinking about my wardrobe. I’m happy to be planning a week of healthy eating, especially because yesterday I was swept off my feet by a Big Bad Brutal migraine. Complete with aura, blurred vision, numbing, and the sensation of a dozen hammers banging inside my head. It’s the sort of migraine that I don’t get very often and haven’t had in ages. But when that banging and blurring stop? When the fatigue that hovers for hours finally exits stage left?
When you’re in the midst of pain, or for that matter, discomfort of any sort, once it lessens or disappears, your perspective shifts. Small things shrink to their proper size. Important things reestablish their preeminence. And you count your blessings.
This morning, all I can say is that I’m delighted to be taking a few minutes on my laptop, ruminating on old friends, and yes, wishing I had more conversation in my life — here — and elsewhere. But real conversation, even if on lighthearted topics. And no offense to the guys, I miss my female friends. I’ve always had great women in my life, and that group of wonderful women has grown tiny in recent years. Once this Covid-captive lifestyle is a thing of the past, I’m going to try to reverse that trend.
Meanwhile, I’m content to be turning off the national news (for now). I’m pleased to be visiting my brightly colored handbags and heels, my sweaters and skirts, my assorted black tops and tees in the tiny closet and on the hall rack. I’m focused on visualizing wearing my clothes and going out.
One more thing… This deliciously frivolous beaded clutch! I picked it up in a boutique years ago in anticipation of a Big Night Out. (The Big Night Out never materialized and I’ve only used the clutch once. But I love it all the same. It’s FUN!)
Now, I’ve rambled long enough. I’m cutting myself some slack on my usual allotment of caffeine — one cup of strong black French Roast — and brewing a second. Won’t you join me? And if you did, what might you like to chat about? Do you have a BFF you miss? What is your favorite coffee, your favorite hearty recipe, your favorite bag?
Black tee image, Chico’s. Cognac Fossil crossbody image, DSW.
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My friend that I met 52 years ago as we began our fashion journey at FIT. She sold her condo last March in the city to move back home in NJ to take care of her sister that had been diagnosed with MS. My friend since has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. Mind blowing.
My favorite bag is any bag we swung together when we dined out, be it over a French cassoulet or a pot pie in and Irish pub.
52 years ago! And still friends. How glorious. All that you have shared. I’m so sorry that she is dealing with this diagnosis. And you, in turn, are dealing with it as her friend.
BFFs – The close women friends in our lives – are irreplaceable if you ask me.
Your mention of your favorite bag made me smile.
Lovely to see you here. Thank you for stopping by.
The past year sure has opened the window for increasingly haunting thoughts of mortality to blow in.
I have been looking at shop windows in anticipation of the coming sales season but I kind of doubt I’ll buy anything. I need some sweaters and looked at Vinted, a second-hand site, but I’m leery of buying anything online, especially second hand. Will it be good quality?
I finally tossed a faithful handbag in the dump. The leather (pleather?) was shedding off the handles like a bad sunburn. A few too many people looked askance at it–a handbag, coat and shoes are the only fashion signifiers anybody can see in these wintery, pandemic days. I have a backup but it was available because I never liked it and bought it to be a diaper bag, which means a LOT of years without use.
In fact, in general, I am hate-wearing things, all the bras with tired elastic, the sweaters that have been mended and now are so pilled and faded that it’s not worth mending the newest holes. There’s no donating any of this stuff, but I want to make sure it’s truly “dead” before I toss it.
“Hate wearing.” Great expression. I think many of us are hate wearing the same things over and over these days. Just one more sign of where we are, quite literally, in our indoor worlds, stuck, so much of the time.