display window for an upscale children's clothing boutique, Pearl District
Imagine a childhood this soft, with cotton voile skirts and vegetable-dyed leather shoes, silky labels printed in sweet fonts. Henny Penny instead of Osh Kosh or Lee. Ergonomic bookbags. Flower-print bloomers. Chickies lined up in the store windows.
Sometimes I pause to watch the mothers as they browse through the racks, babies strapped securely to their backs or chests - with one of those Evenflo padded infant carriers. How soft does the world seem, as a boutique child?
Up close, the little chickies are painfully cute - the kind of adorable that makes my calves and wrists ache.
I wonder what all this softness does to the senses. How rough is the rest of the world, when your street is lined with fancy boutiques? How rough are your first used jeans, with seams that scratch against pampered thighs? How strange, the scent of linoleum in a warm bathroom, when your bare toes and bottom are accustomed to the cold clinks of ceramic?
Comments (3)
Good question. Does it soothe? Does it spark hope? Does it provide a fantasy haven, a respite from reality? Or does it create an unhealthy cognitive dissonance?
Posted by Denny | May 5, 2004 9:05 AM
Posted on May 5, 2004 09:05
Oh, to be in one of those backpacks. I'm coming back as a boutique baby. Hey - that could be a good companion novel to Bergdorf Blondes.
Posted by Loretta | May 5, 2004 3:02 PM
Posted on May 5, 2004 15:02
Just dropping by to say I love this entry. It is beautifully writen.
Posted by tammy | May 6, 2004 10:12 PM
Posted on May 6, 2004 22:12