I was at one of my favourite cafés the other day, tapping les mots juste into my Blackberry Playbook when I noticed a charming if somewhat intense young lady at the table next to me.
She appeared to be doing much the same thing (i.e. writing), only with a bit more… oomph!
She frowned. She scowled. She grinned. She sat back, glaring at her laptop monitor. I found it hard to keep my eyes off of her.
As she was packing up and getting ready to leave, some of her stuff… a paperback novel, I believe, and her iPhone… slipped off of her table and into my bag which had until now been sitting patiently by my feet, minding its own business.
She apologized. I said it was nothing and retrieved her book and iPhone for her, showing manly restraint in not checking out what it was she was reading.
I mentioned that I had noticed her getting wrapped up in her writing. She blushed and admitted she often did that, even in public.
I asked what was it that got her so passionate. “I’m writing a blog article… review… about a fashion show I was at last night,” she replied, smiling again.
Passionate about Fashion. In a word, Fashionate!
“Ah,” I said, the proverbial penny dropping. “That explains it. You’re ‘fashionate’ and wrote accordingly.”
She chuckled and said, “Yeah, I guess I am!” She sat back down at her table and we spoke for about 10 minutes.
She said she was a writer and theatrical director. I said I was for 12 years in professional theatre as a lighting designer and stage manager.
We exchanged our two cents on the differences between the theatrical world and the world of fashion.
One of the things upon which we both immediately agreed – while many in the theatre are bitchy and catty, there is nowhere near the sheer viciousness that is regularly and openly displayed in the fashion industry. Even the movie business didn’t compare.
It was so nice to connect with a perfect stranger on such an unusual subject in which we both shared an interest.
She stood up to leave. We shook hands wishing we could spend more time together discussing the topic and how maddening it could be.
“Are you in the neighbourhood often?” she asked. I nodded. “Oh well, then I am sure we’ll run into each other again.”
“It was fun. I hope we can get upset about it again some time soon.”
“I’d like that. But there’s no sense getting all worked up about it, though,” she said, moving a strand of hair from her face. “After all…
“It’s only fashion!” I said, finishing the sentence for her.
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(From the Mayan ruins at Tikkal, Guatemala)
(Mazal tov! The couple in Jerusalem)
