I sat in the corner of the Crocodile among maudlin faces and took pictures. I felt pretty harmless but somehow I got the impression that I was not welcome. Did the room full of Democrats sense my political neutrality? Did they smell my undying love of fashion from their upturned noses? Did their dirty sneakers and awful loafers judge my pointy-toed phat lace up boots? Who knows! Sure a few familiar faces greeted me with warm hugs and sparkling conversation. It was the strangers that slowly backed away as I tried to start an informal tête-à-tête. I live in a climate that forces you in for months at a time! People in Seattle tend to distrust an animal such as myself. I did not grow up here. I grew up in the sun, which forces you out all the time. My comfortability actual makes people uncomfortable. My happy disposition is a certain sign of alien being. My lack of malaise is a perfect breeding ground for distrust. But the real clincher? My clothes! I wore a peculiar vintage crocheted halter under a fearfully alluring Sharon Segal burnout dress, a lace cardigan deceptively draped my shoulders. My Kensie boots screamed, “fashionista!” No wonder. The whole outfit was a dead give-away, especially the very politically incorrect peacock earrings; this odd pairing was certain to breed an environment of unease. I can’t wait for my next unsettling outfit. Can you?
Well spoken. You can't come in... I get that Seattle vibe.
ReplyDeletelove this post. let's be really friendly and scare the crap out of them.
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