About halfway through today, I realized that I hate crowds. Sort of unfortunate, then, that I live in New York and sometimes have to go to very crowded events as part of my job.
The jostling is what really gets me. I'm only 5' 2", so most of the amazons at Fashion Week can elbow me right in the head if they feel like it. And they feel like it.
One of the best things that happened so far was getting to talk to a woman, maybe 65, who had been a fashion reporter for 35 years. She was wearing comfy shoes and a smock, and had short, sensible hair. Like me, she wore bright red lipstick -- regardless, I'm sure, of fashion.
"What you say is, when they're rude, 'Excuse me? With this mouth, you kiss your mother?'" She advised, in response to my comment that people were maybe a bit less than polite on the line.
I thought of saying just that, in her first-generation accent, a little Polish, heavy on the subjunctive, and wondered if people would think I was making fun. Whenever I hear an accent, I want to start speaking that way. It was really hard when I was in Ireland a couple years ago.
I told the sensible-haired reporter that this was my first Fashion Week, and she said, "Well then, God bless!"
When I grow up, I want to be the lady who wears red lipstick and says nice things to people in lines.
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Big, friendly crowds are cool. But at 6'5 I tend to not get elbowed as much. We might have enjoyed DC's protests a little less if I couldn't pretend to be a Russian icecutter getting on and off the Metro.
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