Pushing the rock up the mountain.
This morning I reached into my closet for my favourite pair of go-to black tights.
Sisyphus probably owned the same pair of tights.
My wardrobe is so utilitarian.
Tights.
“Faux Birkenstocks”
“Swiss Army Backpack.”
Bottle of water, in hand.
I take a gulp.
One final look in the mirror.
Another woman looks back at me.
The kind of woman I thought I would grow up to be.
She is wearing a “frock.”
She is from another era.
An era when women wore frocks.
This particular frock has a beautiful floral pattern.
I am on my way to work.at “Vogue.”
I interned there after graduating from “Vassar.”
My husband is a lawyer on ” Wall Street”.
We have dinner reservations this evening at the “Tavern On The Green.”
It is a glorious day, this first day of August, no sign of rain and not even a cloud in sight.
My princess telephone rings while I am about to put on my white gloves.
“Yes, Susie, “Saks” at 2 this afternoon. Sounds, perfect to me, darling, and yes tea afterwards , that would would be even more glorious. Kisses.”
There is a knock at the door.
My maid is busy.
“I’ll get it.” I chirp.
He didn’t.
Yes, he did.
Front row seats for that divine little musical adaptation of Shaw’s, he did get the hint. My Ted is full of surprises.
That’s my Ted.
I should get him a new tie, since he is so terribly sweet, I shall look at “Saks” this afternoon when I am with Susie. Something for fall, yes, a tie that livens up grey flannel is just the perfect accoutrement for Teddy’s wardrobe.
I dash for a cab.
I edit….edit…edit… until 1:45 p.m.
I dash for another cab while wondering whether it should be “Avedon” or “Penn” for our “Holiday Issue.”
Dick or Irving.
Susie takes my mind off of work by demanding that Ted and myself show up at their cocktail party next week. They want to show off their new “Rothko.”
These expressionists, they are so mad. So daring.
I arrive at the “Tavern on the Green.”
I see my Ted, he is more handsome than he was 32 years ago when we were first married.
He puts a little blue box in front of me.
“Ted, darling, you shouldn’t have.”
“You were born to wear diamonds, Robyn and for all the time you spent on your knees when we were vacationing near Lake Louise…”
(Whoops, I apologize; Gentle Readers, wrong story, wrong blog site.)
Okay, now getting back to this story.
The cheque arrives.
Ted brings out his “Diner’s Club Card.”
“Miles is playing down at the Vanguard, how about a nightcap, baby?”
“Lovely, darling.” I chirp.
We arrive home a little after 2.a.m. , home is of course, the ever so fashionable east side.
” Darling, the children will join us in the Hamptons, on the 17th of the month. They will miss my birthday, which is dreadful. But worse things could happen. Remind me to call “Saks” in the morning, we will need new linens, since the twins might be bringing a few chums along with them. And yes darling, I will pick your shirts up at the Chinese Laundry around the corner, tomorrow and I will tell them just a tad more starch, Have I told you how wonderful you are and what a lucky girl I am, to have my Teddy.”
He puts his big strong arms around me.
“I am the lucky one, my sweet little Robyn.
”Yes, that is exactly how it was that summer.
The summer of 1958.
That summer we spent by the sea.
(Gentle Readers;
I wrote this post at work yesterday. I sell cancer insurance to women and got bored between insuring vaginas. I came home last night and picked up the new issue of “The New Yorker” and saw an article by Amy Merrick titled; “The End of Saks Fifth Avenue.”
Art imitating Life or Life imitating Art?
I do not know.
However, this story is dedicated to “Saks Fifth Avenue” and to all the dinosaurs, I have loved and lost.)
Comments
Post a Comment