Camille and I are in front of the Scandinavian Ski Shop on East 55th Street. No, we’re not hitting the slopes, we’re just trying to keep warm in our ensuing travels.
This was Camille’s idea by the way. Mine was just to stay home.
“How did I know they went outta business?” she said, pacing like a panther who expected lunch.
“You could of called,” I said, freezing despite five layers. “Wish I knew a mountain climber to consult. How do they stay warm?”
And when I think Monday was 35 degrees as opposed to the present 12, it’s like hiding in a dream. Frostbite comes to mind, even in my Uggs normally like little heaters.
“Camille, why are we standing here, let’s grab a cab.”
“Aren’t they suppose to send out announcements when they close?”
“Like you expect them to care when it’s all over? Come on, when business goes south if you’re smart, so do you.”
“But I wanted one of those black parkas they sell, with the fur collar.”
“Fur collar…you’re joking I hope.”
“Look at my face that’s having trouble moving…no I’m not kidding.”
“We don’t wear fur, remember?”
“When it’s this cold we do…besides, I didn’t shoot the collar.”
“Can we please go?”
We then went to Uniglo to see what they had in the parka department. I’m happy to say, nothing furry was attached to their assortment in revolting pastels. Even though lime green with hot pink sleeves was a little loud for Camille, she bought it anyway.
“You look like a big gumball Camille…are you sure you’re gonna wear it?”
“Yes…it’s not quite as chic as what I intended to buy but it will have to do. I need to be able to stroll around. I’m getting cabin fever sitting in my apartment.”
“You’re going to get typhoid fever toolin around in that.”
“I can’t think of fashion at a time like this.”
Wow, she really was cold.
Off we went to the St. Regis since it was right across the street, and though I said, let’s have tea, we both opted for brandy instead. Camille, who decided to wear her new purchase out, was simply glowing in the middle of the King Cole Bar. Even across her chair it made an impression. I give it till she gets home. I know her…there’s no way, freezing or not, she’s parading around looking like a canary, especially when the bartender asked if she bought it at Sears.
After a brandy and a half, our budgetary limit, Camille put her old shearling back on before dragging me back to Uniglo to get her money back.
I did refrain from saying, I told you so, but it killed me.