Prologue:
I really good childhood friend of mine (as in we used to run around in diapers together, wait no, I ran he chased) decided to quit his job earlier on in the year. He said he had it with work, that he needed a break to live again, that he was gasping for fresh air and the list goes on and on. I respected this decision of his for I always found the ability to just drop everything and leave an admirable attribute. Days, weeks and months passed and it is actually about that time that he starts looking for a new job. I’m starting to get ridiculously jealous of how his priorities have been mixed up lately. He’s entered the blissful glee, the vicious circle of not working, not wanting to work, not needing to work hence as Milan would refer to as the ‘‘unbearable lightness of being’’. His state of mind and energy is so strong that sometimes it has the ability to pull me, the ever so pessimist cynic, into his world.
When I get pulled into this world nothing but trouble comes around….
And it begins:
My friend calls me in hysterics yesterday telling me all about how this formerly very rich old man is now bankrupt and is selling his wife’s ridiculously lavish fur coats for peas and carrots. Apparently, my friend’s mother, who loves lathering herself in expensive accessories or any other sign of wealth, had decided to buy every single fur coat that the old man was willing to sell. However, she first wanted to check whether or not they were real. So she dragged these coats to a fur store in Beyoğlu. Now mind you let’s not forget how heavy fur coats are, so the sight of this little lady stomping down Istiklal in search of the authenticity of dead animal is hilarious all by itself. A dead animal only really becomes valuable when it’s shaped into a garment and I’m pretty sure, if the exact lady who was clutching on to these coats with her dear life saw the corpse of this animal elsewhere she would probably freak out and enter some sort of conniption. Moving on…
After getting the A-OK on the coats, my friend’s mother proceeded to bring the coats home, called my friend downstairs and made him watch her fur coat fashion runway. Him not having anything to do admitted to enjoying the little gig but couldn’t prevent himself from thinking just how much profit he could make if he sold these coats. As his mother tried on the starch white lynx coats and pranced around the house playing dress up, my friend found himself drifting away from profit zone entering the experience zone: the wanting to try the lynx coat on zone. Although the other coats were laying on the bed including a perfectly asymmetrical leopard fur coat his eye was set on the lynx. He wanted to try, touch and engulf himself in the lynx.
Blinded by the white….
He runs upstairs to his own apartment and that’s when my phone rang.
As he explained this story to me, it occurred to me that although I am against wearing animal fur it would be an amazing experience to dance with one of these coats. I wouldn’t wear this coat with clothes underneath though. I would just have my bra and panties on and some comfortable kicks maybe converses, maybe ballerina flats….
I would dance dance dance…
I don’t just mean prancing around the house dancing though. I mean flat out dancing, at a club, with strobe lights flashing and loud music. Dancing like a spaze, twirling around so that the coat flares open and comes crashing down as I slow down. The air trapped between my body and the coat would act as some sort of ventilation, as if a cool breeze was brushing against me. I envision it to be similar to the wind blowing in your face as your driving.
Twirl twirl twirl like a little girl.
Yes that’s right I said it.
I want to wear a fur coat on top of my bra and panties, strap on some comfy bubbles and just dance. AND yes all of this in a public arena.
This would be my way of expressing the ‘‘unbearable lightness of being’’.
I am totally bound to get into some trouble but that’s what I do best staying away from passive voice.
I really good childhood friend of mine (as in we used to run around in diapers together, wait no, I ran he chased) decided to quit his job earlier on in the year. He said he had it with work, that he needed a break to live again, that he was gasping for fresh air and the list goes on and on. I respected this decision of his for I always found the ability to just drop everything and leave an admirable attribute. Days, weeks and months passed and it is actually about that time that he starts looking for a new job. I’m starting to get ridiculously jealous of how his priorities have been mixed up lately. He’s entered the blissful glee, the vicious circle of not working, not wanting to work, not needing to work hence as Milan would refer to as the ‘‘unbearable lightness of being’’. His state of mind and energy is so strong that sometimes it has the ability to pull me, the ever so pessimist cynic, into his world.
When I get pulled into this world nothing but trouble comes around….
And it begins:
My friend calls me in hysterics yesterday telling me all about how this formerly very rich old man is now bankrupt and is selling his wife’s ridiculously lavish fur coats for peas and carrots. Apparently, my friend’s mother, who loves lathering herself in expensive accessories or any other sign of wealth, had decided to buy every single fur coat that the old man was willing to sell. However, she first wanted to check whether or not they were real. So she dragged these coats to a fur store in Beyoğlu. Now mind you let’s not forget how heavy fur coats are, so the sight of this little lady stomping down Istiklal in search of the authenticity of dead animal is hilarious all by itself. A dead animal only really becomes valuable when it’s shaped into a garment and I’m pretty sure, if the exact lady who was clutching on to these coats with her dear life saw the corpse of this animal elsewhere she would probably freak out and enter some sort of conniption. Moving on…
After getting the A-OK on the coats, my friend’s mother proceeded to bring the coats home, called my friend downstairs and made him watch her fur coat fashion runway. Him not having anything to do admitted to enjoying the little gig but couldn’t prevent himself from thinking just how much profit he could make if he sold these coats. As his mother tried on the starch white lynx coats and pranced around the house playing dress up, my friend found himself drifting away from profit zone entering the experience zone: the wanting to try the lynx coat on zone. Although the other coats were laying on the bed including a perfectly asymmetrical leopard fur coat his eye was set on the lynx. He wanted to try, touch and engulf himself in the lynx.
Blinded by the white….
He runs upstairs to his own apartment and that’s when my phone rang.
As he explained this story to me, it occurred to me that although I am against wearing animal fur it would be an amazing experience to dance with one of these coats. I wouldn’t wear this coat with clothes underneath though. I would just have my bra and panties on and some comfortable kicks maybe converses, maybe ballerina flats….
I would dance dance dance…
I don’t just mean prancing around the house dancing though. I mean flat out dancing, at a club, with strobe lights flashing and loud music. Dancing like a spaze, twirling around so that the coat flares open and comes crashing down as I slow down. The air trapped between my body and the coat would act as some sort of ventilation, as if a cool breeze was brushing against me. I envision it to be similar to the wind blowing in your face as your driving.
Twirl twirl twirl like a little girl.
Yes that’s right I said it.
I want to wear a fur coat on top of my bra and panties, strap on some comfy bubbles and just dance. AND yes all of this in a public arena.
This would be my way of expressing the ‘‘unbearable lightness of being’’.
I am totally bound to get into some trouble but that’s what I do best staying away from passive voice.
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