jolie laide: Commuting with Cleavage 3/7

jolie laide

I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.


Commuting with Cleavage 3/7

I notice the cleavage first. I am clearly supposed to. If my eyes weren’t already bugged out from four shots of espresso, they surely would be now.

The deep V of her top exposes a broad swath of each of her impossibly cantilevered, smoothly engineered breasts. Over that is a black sequined jacket, more 3am clubbing than 8am F training. In case I didn’t get the message, flashing between her clavicles is a huge pendant, a glittering cheap diamonte heart.

She is digging in her bag and I see the usual stuff, pens, ipod, tissues and she takes out, looks like, a make-up bag. For what? More Look-At-Me? More sparkle lip gloss?

A crochet hook. Yarn. Something half-finished—white, fluffy, achingly delicate. And she sets to work, steady, quick fingered.


Blogger Dr. S said...

The improbable juxtapositions are my favorites.

12:21 PM  
Blogger ttractor said...

I like it when my little prejudices, bits of not-careful get kicked in the ass. Sometimes it is just excruciatingly painful, sometimes delightful, as it was this morning.

And you should have seen her rack!

4:58 PM  

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