Myself In Sixty Years (part deux)

For reasons that would be take far too long to explain, I found myself in the mall this morning around 11am, stricken without my trusty watch to cover up my tattoo. Behold:

Fierce, no?

However annoying, because I'm forced to wear unusually large watches to work everyday. So imagine me, decked in my OG tie, ill fitting slacks and name tag, flying about the mall for a cheap accessories store. If had the time or funds, this would actually be fun- as I did not have either it was more of a nuisance. So I fluttered into this chotchky shop pouring through racks and racks of crazy lame bangles (Btw, please, PLEASE don't bring the eighties back- I know, I know they're already back. Just, please stop this in it's place and do something like bringing the 1920's back or something. Imagine, flapper dresses and garters!!! ) Anyway, in walks this woman- this fantastic, vision of an octogenarian in a floor length fushia dress, heels, at least (AT LEAST) ten necklaces, just as many rings and a white feather boa.

Yes, yes- a BOA.

She was also wearing an extraordinary amount of make-up- I mean Bugs Bunny in drag make-up. And I thought to myself "Yes. YES, exactly." This is me! That is what I hope to be when I'm well into my eighties. I mean I can just imagine this woman digging in her closet this morning thinking "Ohhhh DAHHHHLING, what fabulously glamorous gown can I wear on this horribly BLUSTERY day? Oh, this dress is just DIVINE, I must, MUST get Murray to pour me another scotch before I do my shopping!!!" She's still got the jazz playing from last night, there are bizarre things strewn about her bedroom like fuzzy kitten heels and designer stockings and maybe, just maybe, there is a robe hanging over the chair by the vanity that is long and satin with a fur collar- you with me? She probably gives toasts to her cats with the finest champagne,and forces her mail man to do the foxtrot with her at like 9am, a long cigarette in one hand and her seventh cocktail in the other. I mean, what kind of woman not only owns a feather boa but wears it, as an accessory not as a joke or a costume piece but in all seriousness?!?! I mean, yes. Oh, yes. On all accounts, yes. She is the right amount of glamour mixed with batshit crazy. Brava. Oh, spot on, dear. SPOT ON.