"We?" I said, buying time to consider.
"Well, you, I guess, I don't need anything, but do you?"
Detecting an opportunity to Go And Spend Money We Don't Have, I formed a very careful answer.
"Mmm, I was thinking that I could use a jacket that would go with some of the pants I already have but could also look kinda cool with jeans."
"Oh, I thought you had a jacket."
A jacket? This could be dangerous.
"Not leather, it might be rainy."
"No, didn't you get a jacket a while ago?"
(this is the subtlest interro I've ever observed, the man is a master.)
I look blank."When you went shopping."
I pass stores every day, and go into mobile shopping coma at the sight of the words "free shipping." Where does the dear man think I live? Who does he think has been living in this apartment with him?
"At that place. With what's-her-name. Where you bought something."
I have no idea why, but a lightbulb took shape in the sky above my head and went click. Four or five years ago an acquaintance invited me to a private event at an elegant thrift shop. She was on the board. I had recently been paid. I did in fact buy something. I bought a "ladies who lunch" suit. I resented feeling like I had to buy, I had no place to wear the thing, nothing to wear it with, and as you can see, shaky grammatical tools with which to describe the predicament. But I still have the jacket, and indeed its evil teensy skirt. I tucked both pieces away. The skirt does bad magic on my butt. It was made for a lady who lives on cigarettes and ipecac. The jacket, on the other hand - I hunted out the jacket.
Here is the jacket. It fits like a happy dream.
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| ahh, a fine Bordeaux ages well |
Here are the jacket's credentials.
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| a thoroughbred |
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| these colors don't run |
The jacket has agreed to come to France with me in a few weeks.
It's unlikely that we'll run into its first owner.
Isn't it?
Did I mention it's hand-made?
