So i ride slooooowly by this woman waiting at the bus stop at Grand and Grotto in St. Paul and i had two thoughts (thus completely occupying all the gray cells so i had to get off my bike lest i tip over):
1. unbuttoned sundress, ribcage-hugging jorts, ankle boots and accessories that double as weapons or intergalactic communicators -- what's someone from minneapolis doing over here? and
2. should i tell her that bus never comes?
Well shut my mouth, she was from across the river alright, chicago to be exact. And the whole funky boots-in-summer thing is a work-related hazard because she's one of the proprietors of The Sometimes Store, www.sometimesstore.com/, a vintage shop in chicago's pilsen neighborhood. it's open sometimes, see, that's why...sheesh. she and a girlfriend started it -- she curates the black collection (do me a great big huge favor and go to the website now so i make the tiniest bit of sense). Their merchandising philosophy really resonates: We're known for being cheap but we don't sell crap. Since she's sitting on this bench waiting for the sometimes bus (somebody stop me), i'm guessing this is one of those times the shop isn't open. Residents of chicago must like a bit of mystery and unpredictability in their lives (this explains the booming hot dog business) because the Sometimes Store has gotten stacks of press, all of it effing good, e.g. I went there and it was closed-- love! Saw the tiniest sliver of six things that might be cute!
Holy crotchal area, last time i zoomed in on pieces of flair the same thing happened -- i actually zoomed in on their parts. ok well, drag your pervy eyes over to the left and feast em on the zena cuff, and then steer north to the ostrich egg-sized pendants, and from there, riiiiiiiight all the way to the edge of sanity or until you think you see a blue coffee table on her fingers. It's a ring! like red lipstick, i adore prehistoric-sized accessories... on other people. last time i tried this at home kids it was like someone had weighted the body but forgot to throw it in the East River.
No comments:
Post a Comment