random tidbits

In the absence of any major events to share this week, how about these little nuggets…

there’s a new pimp in town
This neighborhood being milquetoastland (hence my plan to get out of it soon), I have been proud, ever since Phineas informed me years ago that I was putting in a solid fashion bid to be the world’s first ever white female pimpdaddy, to be the only pimp in the ‘hood. Last week, however, that all changed. On the way home from somewhere, I was in the passenger seat when we finally managed the left turn at Belmont & Broadway. I spotted him just before we reached the intersection: bright blue double breasted suit, pale blue alligator shoes, hat to match, and a puffy white long fur coat. Sunglasses on, talking on his cell phone just south of the door to Chipotle. Lindsay spotted him half a second later and we pulled over to see if I could get a decent shot. He either figured out what we were doing or is just a long-form pacer, because he came all the way around the corner and walked half a block eastbound before turning back, giving me a good 15 yards in which to capture him in all his glory. “Did you get your picture?” he asked me, then. “Yeah… thanks,” I said. “No problem, girl. The name’s Cadillac.”

Cadillac was there again yesterday, just outside the Chipotle, a vision in grass green and purple. “Hi, Cadillac,” I said as I walked by. “Hey girl,” he answered without removing the phone from his ear. “Lookin’ good.”

pop culture and me
Not long ago, I was ruminating on how advertising has a singular appeal to me and my peer group at the moment (well, the stuff that isn’t completely appalling – you know what I mean. ok, at least you could pretend to know what I mean), because the Accoung Sups and Creative Directors are our age. But in a typical example of spoke-too-soon, I soon thereafter began to notice all manner of little pop-culture references that had me completely befuddled. There’s a huge billboard for Citibank somewhere on Randolph I think, and I’ve got no idea what it means, beyond ‘Citibank is cool and you should give us all your money right now’. Something about bling.

So I guess I had my window and now it’s closing, I thought. Well, that’s OK. I’ve got more than enough obscure literature to start building up a rep as an eccentric but lovable intellectual snob (gotta have a Plan B, right?). But then something else unexpected happened. I can’t tell whether it’s a good thing or a bad thing, but I’m somehow oddly comforted.

We were at the Shedd Aquarium on Saturday afternoon, because my need to go diving is rising to a fever pitch and the closest I can possibly come is to put my forehead right up against the glass at the Caribbean Reef tank and pretend. Waiting in line, I was looking around thinking again what a gorgeous building it is when I spotted two teenaged girls slumped on a bench over by the store entrance. Initially I barely registered them, but then something struck me as odd. I looked again. It still took me a minute to figure out what it was that was tickling the back of my skull. Here were two girls, either sisters or best friends, waiting for dad in a museum on a Saturday afternoon, doing their best to look bored. Nothing unusual about that – I almost certainly cultivated the same look at that age. And then it struck me: the look. These girls were wearing the exact same thing I was wearing at that age. Skinny jeans. Chuck Taylors with writing on them in black Sharpie. T-shirts of the Ramones and Sex Pistols. One was even wearing a narrow-lapel sport coat, just like the one of my boyfriend’s that I used to wear sophomore year. The haircuts even looked familiar. I was torn between feeling really young and really old. Hell, I was wearing my Tears for Fears concert shirt from 1985 just last weekend, and here are these 14 year old girls doing the same thing. It’s strange how short the cycle of fashion has become. Is this just two kids emulating Avril Lavigne instead of Britney Spears, or is there some kind of punk resurgence going on? Regardless of the whole generational relativity thing, I was comforted, and I think it’s because I’m hoping for the latter.