Wednesday, March 2

Missed Connections

6pm, cute sweater with little poodle and pearly buttons, Causeway Bay
You were hanging off the rack, 30% off. You didn't seem like the sort that would pile. The salesgirl wouldn't let me try you on because you were a sale item. Had to leave quickly for a dinner date but I thought about you all night. You could even say I lost some sleep. When I came back the next day, you were gone. I should have gone home with you and now I regret it.

Last week on the 7.30am train from Quarry Bay to Central, stylish coat
You were a luscious seafoam green. Belted with fur trim, everything I look for in a jacket. I stood beside you most of the way. We may have even brushed against each other when the train lurched unexpectedly. I could tell you weren't happy with her, you didn't fit properly. She also thoughtlessly paired you with a suit that was way too frumpy. When we reached Central, I let you get off before me, a rarity in this town. I think I must have followed you for a good 10 minutes before she got suspicious. What are you doing with her? You need someone who will wear you right, someone like me.

1.00pm yesterday, outside On Pedder store, to die for
I was waiting for my friend to show up. You were in the window, a pair of Christian Louboutin silk pink pumps, waiting to be bought. I've seen you a couple of times now. Each time we look at each other through the glass and share a meaningful nod. We probably live in different worlds. Me, hovering on the poverty line and you, mixing it up with horsey socialites at a benefit with a capital B. I can't afford your shirred and pretty crystalled elegance but I'd like to think that when you're not on charity duty we could get together sometime. Call me!

Cold rainy day, February sometime, stirrup pants in Admiralty Starbucks
That was me, sitting in a corner with a peppermint mocha frappuccino (grande), reading the paper. Up until now, I didn't know that something like you could exist. The way you sauntered into my life like that, working that purple cheetah lycra on five inch hooker heels. You didn't stay long but you made me laugh. Out loud. Thank you.

Little beaded cocktail dress, last summer, BCBG boutique
The shimmery shade of gunmetal caught my eye. I swooped you off the rack and shamelessly pressed my bare skin against you. Admired your neckline, your embroidery, the subtle flare of your skirt. I truly thought you were the one. Then I made a mess of things by not fitting properly into you. That was before the Karl Lagerfeld diet. I know you're still out there, and I have a feeling we might meet again in a warehouse sale. And when we do, you're all mine baby, all mine.


At 5:48 AM, Blogger Harrods Girl said...

I completely feel for you, because I often feel the same. That deep connection one feels for an unachieveable clothing item. This is a sad sad world. But the many 'one that got away' will be forgotten the next time i see something even more gorgeous and unattainable. Such realistic and superficial society we live in...

At 9:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

All desire is pain. Eliminate desire, get the little black dress from Title9, eliminate suffering. Only through accessories can trancendance be achieved.

At 12:26 PM, Blogger Bag chick said...

I understand.
There was a particular Celine bag in Bloomingdale's that I used to visit often. One day I couldn't make our usual rendezvous, and some comission grubbing saleswoman sold it.
The strap was too short to fit comfortably under may arm, and the bag too big to be carried as a handbag, so it never would have worked out, but still...


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