|
2003-02-22 || 3:19 p.m. || and she said something about a singing and dancing nun being somehow inappropriate. || dear diary, something very nice and weird and strangely uplifting happened just now, and i can only thank the kindly spirits of coincidence and circumstance. well. i was feeling all mopey and crabby and decided to stop at the saint vincent de paul's on my way home from an action-packed excursion to the drug store ruled by the old, infirm, and hell-bent on taking up as much aisle space as possible. and there were two girls there about my age whom i knew were on the lookout for the very same articles of clothing i was. (there's an army of us. dedicated to the endless search for striped shirts and red sweaters, stay-prest pants and crocheted shawls. i am a card carrying member. i'm not going to pretend there aren't leagues and leagues of us, displaying our affiliations with perfectmessy hairdos and kneesocks.) i acted under the code of thrift store ethics for such a situation, keeping a rack and a half distance so that they wouldn't think i was a clothes vulture. they were huddled at the mirror trying stuff on and one turned and looked at me. "excuse me, miss?" the blond one said, and i was ready for her to tell me she had dibs on the pink blouse with ruffles i was holding. "what high school did you go to?" and then i totally recognized her. i was a senior and she was a freshman, and i used to drive her home from school every day. i can't remember how the arrangement was ever made. we weren't friends and never saw each other outside the rides home. she used to wear tight tight corduroy bell bottoms and tight tight t-shirts that were old enough to be see-through. she had big curly hippy hair and i think there was patchouli involved. "i remember you!" she said. "you used to wear a girl scout uniform to school!" and then her friend came over, conferring. "you were a very nice senior," she said. "they were all such assholes. and you used to wear a girl scout uniform." i used to wear a girl scout uniform. i was that girl. i wore green knee socks and a green girl scout-issue sweater and a jumper and if i was feeling incredibly sassy, which completely escapes me considering how god-awful shy i was, i wore the goddamn orange tassels at the top of my socks. and perhaps it'll lessen the effect to say this, but eh. i was a girl scout at the time i was wearing this outfit. good god. so the three of us stood in the aisle and caught up at lightning speed, all the while with me blushing so hard because they kept saying i didn't look at all different. i tried to cite different phases that have occurred between 1994 and 2003 (n i n e years.), the black hair and the mod-imposter accoutrements and the old lady dresses and i don't think we have to mention the plaid pants with the zippers, gawd, but i was standing there in the exact same type of outfit i would have worn at the age of seventeen (for the record i am wearing red knee socks today, not green.). and i was feeling terribly uncomfortable, getting all kinds of compliments and memories from two girls who remembered me, stupid clueless miserable 17-year-old me, and was ready to go. we said our goodbyes and goodlucks and the blond one stared at me for a second and told me i look way too much like julie andrews for it to be right, and then i blushed more and left. whew. but it was nice. you know. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |