For starters, is it sad that most of the time my only two comments are from my Mom and my sister... in-law. ( Sorry, I had to add it, I felt like I was cheating.)
I have been to the city a lot lately. My former home. It's familiar, but yet scary, because it's not the same. Subtle changes make my backyard seem like someone else's. I feel like exactly what I am... just visiting.
Today I went to one of my "bestie's" wedding shower. Totally chic, totally cool- fantabulous. Rooftop party room with white chaise lounges. Waiter-served finger foods and waitress-served Mimosas and Bellingers. Beautiful day. Lovely party... lots of girls dressed in Chicago urban style.
I took a moment and went onto the private balcony to people watch the neighborhood. Fomerly known as the artist's mecca. Bucktown. Where Real World made Peace Pizza a common name. Where boutiques moved in and "locals" locked thier doors for the last time. Where I raked in loads of cash getting artists and yuppies alike trashed beyond reason while waitressing.
And while I was absorbing it all, wondering if I even missed this scene, my eyes happened upon a US Postal worker. I watched her zoom down the alley in her big white box van. Quickly. With intent. Purpose. Motivation. She hopped out and I noticed her afro. Her unbottoned pin-striped frock. Her "Muscle T" under. Her HUGE silver hoop earrings. Her thick black shoes. Her tube socks pulled up her legs to her knees with stripes. Her thick ropey necklace. And her cigarette hanging out of her mouth. And then, lastly, sunglasses so huge Nicole Richie would be jealous. She was the coolest dang postal worker I had seen in a long time.
It was then I recalled what it is I miss about the city. Not the traffic. Not the food. Not the parking or the parties or the bars. It's the simplicity of people being able to express themselves without a second thought. Without sneers or questions or contempt. Just everyday folks doing thier thing with thier own style. Which does not mean style-ish. Unless you are just visiting. And then you might have a sudden flash that you are not style-ish enough. And you are. You just don't realize that your eyes are resting on those folks you don't normally see by your house. And you think everyone dresses like that. And they don't. But the beautiful thing is that you can. And you will find respect regardless.
I loved that about the city.
I used to like to recreate my image once in while. I even got on a kick where I would change clothes in the middle of a party to see if anyone would notice. It got so out of control that during this "phase" I actually took a back pack out with me and would change outfits in the bathroom two or three times a night. To mix it up. ( I never said I wasn't wierd ). I loved watching the reaction on a person's face. Or the lack thereof. The city was my playground.
I can't imagine doing something like that in the suburbs. It would just be too wierd. People would... talk. They would think I had a lot of cats at home or hoarded newpaper or something.
That is what I miss about the city. Probably not a good enough reason to want to move back.
I don't have that kind of energy now. But sometimes it is nice to have a day where you are not you.
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