Tag Archives: animal print

Dear Animal Print

22 Nov

Dear Animal Print,

I have to admit, I was overwhelmingly pleased with your appearance in my life last night.

It’s been a long time since I was that close to a cheetah print fur coat, and I was pleased with your decision to go all the way to the knees and pair yourself with a fedora.  The understated black jeans, boots, and gray shirt you wore underneath kept you just this side of the tracks of the classy train.  A bold choice paired with an understated base—it’s just so lovely to know that it can still be done, and done right.  Have you been watching What Not to Wear?

Also, the Shiny Shirt standing next to The Coat at the bar provided such a beautiful example of how to go a completely different direction and end up in the same great fashion place.  Leopard print!  Next to cheetah! A fine distinction, but one worth making.  I was speechless with joy.  I have to admit, it took a little while to verify that I was looking at any animal print at all, given the sheen and stretch of the shirt across the girls, but through diligent examination conducted from across the bar and some help from my friends, was able to definitively confirm the spots (I don’t know where you learned your scientific research methods, but I was ace in high school chemistry).

I guess I just wanted to say thank you.  (And Shiny Shirt—your ass did look great in those jeans.)

And a shout-out to the band, who really were funky (meaning groove, not smell).

Cheers!

MM

Dear Seattle

21 Nov

Dear Seattle,

Today, you are cold and crisp and bright. Today, a friend made me lunch with the contents of his refrigerator, creating a creamy, soft and cheesy tomato sauce and spaghetti, and his Queen Anne windows looked out over the meeting of Lake Union and Lake Washington. We could see parts of University of Washington, and parts of the Cascades, and parts of downtown, and parts of trees losing their leaves. His Queen Anne roommate wore a plaid shirt and played the guitar as I did the dishes, and I had a chocolate for dessert.

Today, Seattle, I went to Bauhaus, an old bookstore turned into a coffeeshop, and they have good coffee, and Top Pot doughnuts, and floor-to ceiling windows. I was meeting a new friend, for the purpose of confirming that there were reasons we couldn’t stop talking the first time we met each other, and we sat for hours. I can see the Space Needle, and we traded names and poems and books and places to drink coffee. We sat at the intersection of HipsterVille and YuppieTown, and it got dark. The man in a sparkly leopard print cardigan leaned across the table towards his boyfriend in a white prep-school pullover (two stripes across the left arm) and the one at the next table over eavesdropped when I mentioned authors. I couldn’t turn around without meeting someone’s eyes, and no one looked away. The lights changed and the bus numbers stayed the same. A pit bull came in and stayed for a while. I could look down from the second-floor loft and see into the pastry case.

That’s really all it takes.

Love,

MM

Dear Bill

27 Oct

Dear Bill,

You know that you will always be important to me. How could you not be? Even before I truly knew you, one of the first times I saw you, I felt drawn to you. “Why’s Bill on TV?” I asked my parents when I was eight. They laughed, and corrected me—we don’t call politicians by their first names, they said, you should say Bill Clinton or the President. But it felt right.

I know a sixteen-year-old who shook your hand, went home, and told her mother, I know why Monica did it.

I too know why Monica did it.

You are inexpressibly charming, a southern Democrat for the ages. The way you massaged that interviewer’s wrist last night is such a classic example of the way you make people want to give you what you want. When you talk, the enticing accent of Arkansas washes over me as I remember our times in Brainland and our vacations in Heartland, and I almost cannot go through with what I know I must do.

Bill, it’s over. There’s someone else. I have learned so much during our time together, and will never forget what you have taught me about how a face should look when one is praised publicly (half seduce-you-tonight and half yeah-that’s-right). But I was young when I fell for you, and I know now that it was just a crush. My new relationship has not been easy, but it is real and it is based in an understanding of adult responsibilities. We have common interests and are willing to do whatever it will take to make it work. Bill, I am in love with your wife Hillary.

You are charming, it’s true, but she is a fighter. I cannot resist the determination in her voice, the grit in her teeth, the way she loves me and my stories. Who else could make a comeback after what you did to her, could capture the white middle-class and the Black and the Hispanic vote, who else could morph into a shot-and-a-beer kind of gal while wearing an orange pantsuit and pearls? I think she wears animal print underwear beneath those jacket buttons. It makes her strong, it makes her audacious. It makes her want it all, and so she hungers after health care and money for the soldiers in Iraq, she craves not just relief for student loans, but rights for workers. And yes, things aren’t going her way right now, but she is still my candidate.

I hope you can forgive me. I care about you very much and wish you well. You will always be my first politician.

All my best,

MM

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