the ugly earring

(Henri Matisse. Laurette in a White Turban. 1916.)

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Mark your calendars:

April 13 is World Turban Day

(photos by adam clark vroman)

somewhere between flagstaff and the grand canyon i lost my way.

and ventured into a dinner party where i met two women. lover’s mother was there, shocked and red-faced to see that amore and i had arrived uninvited. it was purely coincidental. i had pulled into the american legion building hoping to find directions back to the main freeway.

the two women, rose and s., are the epitome of woman, possessing that definitive carine roitfeld magic. ageless, daring, beautiful in that unconventional, imperfect way (a wrinkle here, a fly away hair there). and of course, they are dressed in yves st. laurent. in fact, everyone in this podunk meeting hall is dressed for fashion week.

rose and s. are ecstatic when they find out who amore is. rose holds amore in her arms while s. coos and brushes amore’s hair with her hand. they comment several times in thick Italian accents, “she is so beautiful.” and “she is so much like (lover).”

it takes a couple of minutes to register how rose and s. are correlated to my life and amore’s.

they were lover’s ex-lovers.  

what a the nightmare to be unprepared for such a meeting wearing only my glasses, crappy old jeans and a stretched out tank top!

if only i had known.

i have plenty of beautiful dresses in the back of my closet.

i excuse amore and myself and ask a man nearby if he knows how to get to the freeway. he moves over a seat and leaves the one next to him open.

“sit here” he says.

the lights dim and john galliano’s fall runway show begins.

elk? bohemian montmarte? chinoise?

so blase.

here, there are shades of the kachina doll, hair of a hopi women, desert sweat and sun-kissed models walking with pottery jars atop their heads.

he outdoes himself again.

afterward, i attempt a quiet departure and a u-turn back to home for a conversation with lover. but as i head toward the exit, chief galliano appears with a lone feather in his long hair.

he stops me. “you are tall and lovely,” he says and gives amore the quill.

“i’ve given birth to a daughter who doesn’t like to wear clothes.”

thank you flypaper for the mention!