Observe Converse

Last night my alter ego Chimera signed up for the newsletter and other e-mail crap at Riley’s website.  This morning we received an invite to a book signing and one woman fashion show tonight at a tres trendy lingerie boutique in SoHo.  Seems some old-time big-time lingerie model slash pin-up queen wrote her memoirs.  Since Riley has always idolized her, said old-time pin up gal has invited our Riley to parade her hand-made panties at said signing.

Chimera aka me posted it on her blog.  Of course,  she’s out of town herself and can’t make it, but she highly recommends everyone who can – go.

Just getting my outfit actually disguise together now.  Call me evil, but I’m hoping BJ will be there tonight.  Google up Hedda Hopper if you want to see what I’m going to look like.  Thank goodness I can’t resist the thrift shops, and this platinum wig makes me look completely different.

Bing

Let’s see who e-mailed.  Chanel.  Awesome.  Wish she were here to be in on the fun.  But I can’t tell her or anyone else about this madness.

I’d get a one-way twinkie mobile trip to Fantasy Island.

Better read this mail.

Tata

As soon as Sister dismissed us for the day Chanel and I headed for the subway.  Our school was very small, so the teachers moved from class to class.  We had sat next to each other all day.
Over the summer I had decided to be both a loner and a character in high school. My grade school years were spent desperately trying to fit in.  The results had not been good.  The scent of desperation turns some kids evil.  Especially when said desperate kid is overweight,wears braces and gets high marks. It was having a bulls-eye painted on my back.

Saints  Preserveus was considered one of the best parochial high schools in Manhattan.  My parents were hopeful that I would make lots of nice new friends.  All I wanted was to survive this four year sentence, turn 18 and move to New Orleans.  I planned to wear scarlet berets, long black velvet dresses and smoke cigarettes in a long ivory holder.  My writing would support me.

Mom was thrilled when I called to tell her that I had a new friend.  She wanted to talk to Chanel’s mom before I went to her house for dinner.  She wanted me to come home and pick up a devils food cake to take for dessert.  I threatened to stick a pitchfork in my eye.  She laughed, told me to have fun, and to use my emergency ten dollar bill for cab fare home.

And then we were on the 1 train heading down to Greenwich Village.  Chanel and her family lived down West 13th Street.  My father had an unmarried Aunt who lived in the Village until her death last summer.  Tia Vicky as she liked to be called had been a piano teacher.  She also liked to design and make her own clothing.  I had one of her old brown leather valises under my bed filled with the  long velvet dresses she made and worn over the years.  They fit too.  Some were cut low.  At night I put them on, and posed in front of the old full-length black enamel frame that hung on her bedroom wall for over 50 years.

Yesterday was my first day of high school.  I sat through it quietly.  Spoke only when spoken to, and read a book while I ate my lunch alone.  Today I had a best friend.  Her name was Chanel Lipinski, and we would go through life having amazing adventures.  We had made a pact over lunch.

The doors of the 1 train closed behind us, and our ride began.

The attendant has been mopping and muttering Russian curses for 15 minutes now.   Hopeful is on one of  the corner sofas trying to calm BJ down.  I’m telling you if Nail’s wasn’t the owner’s daughter’s best friend from college – and yes they experimented – they would all be the hell outta here.   Oh and I promise I’ll have the Nail’s experimenting post up some time soon.  Speaking of Nails she’s in the restroom trying to dry her hair with the handblower.

Okay, so Hopeful & Nails came to meet BJ for iced chai and hot chat.   The three of the them did the usual huggie kissie so glad to see ya that I’m wetting my pants thing.   Nails told Hopeful to sit, and she went up to the counter to get three of the special iced chais – each of which is at least 20 ounces. 

All I could say is that I wish that Hopeful had waited until Nails sat down before she told her.  But Hopeful is just like that, and this is how it all went down.

Don’t get crazy okay? I’m telling you this because I feel you really need to know. 

What is it?

It’s Evan.

BJ look went from perplexed to evil in a nanosecond.   She knew it was about another woman.  The little hairs on my own forearms began to stand up. 

He and Riley hooked up last night.  She’s hanging at the store with him now. 

At that moment Nails was approaching the table with a chai and snack loaded tray. 

BJ jumped up as if shot.   Her head hit the bottom of the tray and kept going.  Nails screamed as she nearly drowned in freezing cold chai.  Her hair, face, clothing soaked.   Chai running in rivulets down her body into a puddle at her feet.  Her new cobalt blue power suit.   An entire week’s pay; bought especially because a head honcho from the home office came into town today.  Nails began to cry.  The people from the counter ran to help and began slipping on the ice.

BJ was not crying.  She was sort of standing there hissing, wild eyes, her whole body tensed, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.  Hopeful leapt up not knowing which of the two to go to first.  She stood there helpless as the entire coffee bar stared at this car wreck of a scene.

So who the hell is this Riley, and how am I going to find out more about her?

And while the chaos continued in front of me I started going through Evan’s  profile pages to see about this Riley.

a little while later

Things are pretty quiet now.  Nails’ hair is just about dry, and one of the servers lent her a uniform polo and some leggings. They even hustled the dress across the street to a dry cleaners.  BJ stopped hissing and is sitting quietly in a chair facing the backwall.  Hopeful is sitting there looking  guilty.  There’s been quite a bit of customer turnover since it all went down, so it’s as if nothing much happened at all.  They’re too far away for me to hear a word dammit.

Right now I’m viewing one of Evan’s profile pages, there are over 900 friends on it, about 95% are female.

You know when I first began observing these chicks I had no idea just how involved I would become.

I had always been one of life’s observers, and writing about what I witnessed just seemed the thing to do. Hey, ‘Harriet the Spy’ was my favorite book as a child. I actually still carry a paper journal in my bag everyday. Most of my observations and conversations are typed into one of several mobile devices, and posted to password protected blogs. I got into the blog thing about ten years back.

I retired four years ago at 45 – an investment in some real estate paid off nicely – to write a play. Like a lot of wanna be writers in New York I bought a laptop.  It went with me to all the coffee bars.  Instead of play I wrote about my observations and conversations with strangers.

Once I discovered The Three and a few other folks I gave up the play all together.

Still going through the friend’s list.   I know you’re in there Riley – hell everyone else is.

It didn’t take long to find Riley; she’s on BJ’s friend list too.  Actually so is my alter ego Chimera.   She has a much younger birthdate than mine of course, and uses a profile pic of a tribal tattoo.   There’s even a link to a fairly humorous blog that I update  from time to time.  BJ is an fierce collector of friends so it was easy to get her and the others to add me to the ranks.  Hell, I even chat with them sometimes when they are on the site messenger.  Total madness right?

Oh, so here’s the skinny on  Riley – she’s a drop dead gorgeous designer of her own lingerie line.  She models the stuff on her own website.    I know.  It’s just too effing much. 

Okay, it’s late I gotta get home.

Chanel Lipinski from Saints Preserveus High School for Girls.

Tall lanky Chanel with the one green and one brown eye.    Thirty years since I’ve seen or spoken to her, and still the best friend I ever had.

Gotta get out my crayons and write that kid who invented Facebook to thank him.  

It was the second day of of my first year in the hell that is parochial high school.   It was 8:45 am – homeroom - Sister was taking attendance.   My seat was the last one in the first row.   I loved it;  it was next to a window, and the basketball team captain in front of me blocked sister’s view of me daydreaming.  

I was barely listening when Sister introduced Chanel to the class.  

“I’m certain we have met in another life.”

“Huh?”  I came to to find Chanel sliding her endless legs under the desk next to me.

“It’s destiny you know.   You can’t fight destiny.”

“Uh, okay.”

She then turned face front as Sister droned on about some cake sale or raffle.

“Des – tin -eeee,” she whispered enunicating every syllable.

The rest of the morning was a blur of useless historical facts, algebra and passing notes.  I guess these days we would be texting on silent. 

Each note was startling, amazing, unbelievable.

My father is Jewish, and he and my mother are not legally married.  That’s hush hush.

My mother named me Chanel after the designer.  She wanted Coco Chanel Lipinski, but her mother threatened suicide.

I sleep in the nude.

My grandparents think Catholic school will straighten me out – they’re wrong.

How many lovers have you had? I’m on my third, and he’s being a hump.

Come to my house after school?  Rita works till 8. 

By 10am I would have sold my soul to fast forward the clock to three pm.

Here comes Miss Hopeful & Nails.  Let’s see what happens.

I’ve been observing this one, we’ll call BJ,  for a while now.

She’s always meets up with her friends here on Wednesday nights, and I haven’t missed a performance in weeks.

She’s in her mid-thirties, tall, about 150 pounds with dark brown eyes and a nose with a bit of a hook to it.

Her hair color changes frequently; tonight she is a dirty blonde of sorts.   Her friends say a nose job would make her more than just okay – they’re right too.

I call the this catty trio ‘The Three.’  BJ’s two ‘bffs’ are a little younger than her.  The Red Head is ‘Nails, as in dragged across a blackboard.  She should do voices in cartoons; she’d make a fortune.

The brunette Miss Hopeful is actually quite pretty, but refuses all potential suitors.  Why?  Well, she’s  got feelings for Eurotrash  guy who doesn’t have them back.  They’ve been best friends since she got him a job at the company she’s worked at for five years.  Being best friends means she is available whenever there’s no one else.  He actually doesn’t date women – or men.  BJ and Nails often wonder if he is latent homosexual or asexual when Miss Hopeful is not around.

Tonight BJ is early.  The laptop covered with cartoon stickers is open.   I know she’s on a social networking site, even though I can’t see the screen.  Our BJ is cyberstalking  a might have been rock star who we’ll call Evan La Fontaine. Evan is in his late thirties, and works by day at an Internet Cafe in the Astoria Queens neighborhood where BJ resides.  She’s his friend on all the networks, so she can go through all his female friend’s profiles. 

By night Evan appears at whatever dirty rock bar will have him.   He has a bit of a look and voice, but not enough to take him anywhere big.

Hmmmm…looks like the other two are going to be late.

Let me get a few e-mails done before the curtain goes up.

BRB