She has over two hundred pairs of sunglasses, this New York City designer whom I won't name because I don't want to be the cause of harassment veering in her direction.
TWO HUNDRED. That is one hell of a lot of sunglasses.
I should know. I have four pairs of sunglasses.
Believe me, the care and feeding involved is excessive. The fretting and worrying, the near misses leaving them behind, the storage, the weight of their cases in my tote bag, all MAJOR.
The expense. The name brand value--
I live in Southern California, and although we might prefer to think we are our cars, we are actually our sunglasses. Vuitton. Prada. Versace. Calvin Klein. Dior.
We look hip in our sunglasses. A fabulously designed pair of sunglasses can transform Mouse into Rock Star, or, Soccer Mom into Jackie O. And of course sunglasses are good for putting people off the scent of drunkenness or excessive use of drugs.
By why oh why does anyone on the world think they need two hundred pairs of sunglasses? Or more to the point, admit they own two hundred pairs of sunglasses. They are all designed by the same sunglasses designer (again nameless...you wouldn't recognize it anyway). Because? "Because she knows my face better than anyone." So I wonder, are they lovers, perchance?
One time my house was robbed. It was in broad daylight. My children were at Montessori and I was at ballet class. To show the state of innocent bliss and good will towards man in which I lived, I did not believe in locking my back door.
After having packed up VCR, television, computer, and the good jewelry (leaving behind my rhinestone treasure trove, thank you thank you thank you), on their way out, they nabbed my sunglasses.
I had a pile of them sitting in a large wooden bowl by the back door. All kinds. Cheap, funky, cool, scratched, broken, pink, white and yellow, round, square. They were lively and fun. Whenever I left the house I'd yank a pair out of the bowl, and throw them on. Changed my mood every time. Having babies around brought out the whimsy in me. There were maybe twenty pairs of mangled sunglasses in that bowl. Half were used as teething rings.
The robbers swept them off my kitchen counter into their bag of the real stuff, and left without shutting the door.
I still miss that little collection of goodies.
But so, maybe this woman had her sunglasses stolen once? And is seeking to fill the void?
I always think my robbers grabbed mine as an afterthought, on their way out.
But maybe it was love at first sight. They saw them immediately upon entering, swept them into their arms, and almost forgot to rob the rest of the house--
Those sunglasses were that special.
I love this one.
Posted by: Yolanda Garfield | February 06, 2009 at 04:33 PM
wow.i think you spent a lot of money doing that.
Posted by: Designer Sunglasses | March 16, 2009 at 09:38 PM