A Face In the Crowd

I saw her strolling, her golden blonde hair picking up the late afternoon light. She had an ice cream cone in one hand, a Chanel purse, the other.

I remember trips to the Met, sated in Renoirs, Lunch of the Boating Party her favorite, descending down those great steps. buying cones from the Mr. Softee man parked at the curb.

She’d get a double cherry dip, while I had mine straight, never failing to drip some on whatever I was wearing making her laugh.

We’d then meander down the Ave., looking in all the windows, picking and choosing what we’d buy if we had that kind of money.

She had alimony from her long time husband who abused her so much, she didn’t even want it, saving it for her young sons their father neglected.

She co-owned a travel agency with two good friends, loving planning trips she had no desire to take. She loved New York so much, said she felt like a fish out of water whenever she’d leave it.

We first met at the dry cleaners when she was picking up one of her beloved raincoats. She liked walking in the rain, happy and content, the air at its sweetest, she’d say, wrapped in a Burberry.

I sent her a card that said…she was so special, that they named a month after her.

When I saw her today, that cherry dip a dead giveaway, I had to rub my eyes and look again remembering, June died of cancer over 20 years ago.

But it was her, I could have sworn it was her, and it did look like rain.Unknown.jpeg

Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1881)

SB

 

 

 

About Susannah Bianchi

I'm just a girl who likes to write slightly on slant. I've had a career in fashion, dabbled in film and to be honest, I don't like talking about myself. Now my posts are another matter so I will let them speak for themselves. My eBooks, A New York Diary, Model Behavior: Friends For Life and Notes From A Working Cat can be found on Amazon.com. Thanks.
This entry was posted in art, Beauty, creative writing, Culture, dessert, grace, inspiration, New York City, travel, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

41 Responses to A Face In the Crowd

  1. skinnyuz2b says:

    Susannah, every now and then something happens that makes me believe in reincarnation. Your story gave me shivers. Let’s hope the good do come back.

    Like

    • Mr too, but nice shivers. She was the loveliest of ladies…kind, funny, chic and fearless. Her husband was a big shot in the music industry and used to bring women home to their house. June, as a young bride, would hide in the closet. I ask you, how anyone could behave so cruelly. But she prevailed just the same. We women, as you know, are strong. Thanks. Have a happy day.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Sorryless says:

    SB,

    When you do this, Holy Jesus wow is all I gotta say.

    Well no, that’s not correct. I have more to say. Like, when something pulls at your heart, it delivers a wheelhouse effect in which you give us these words in moving pictures. And this story, so poignant and beautiful. Of friendship and the time and place which remains perched in your memory, like a Renoir hanging in the Met.

    Like

  3. robprice59 says:

    They say everyone has a DoppelgΓ€nger somewhere. But what do they know?
    Spooky, just the same.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Dale says:

    Oh, Susannah. That was beautifully written! I swear they say we each have our doppelganger out there, but I’m convinced, in this case, it is way more than that.
    And my heart stopped beating the other day. I swore I saw Mick in a crowd.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. She just came back for a quick moment for an ice cream cone and to say hello to you. This is beautiful writing, Susannah. Great job. πŸ™‚

    Like

  6. Interesting,I was standing in the checkout line at my Cracker Barrel and first heard a voice I had not heard in years. I looked up to see a lot of curly grey hair and full beard, so assumed that was all there was to it- the voice. Then, as he left, he spoke once more to the cashier and looked at me. I could swear the eyes and mouth were his – yes, he died years ago also.

    Liked by 1 person

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