This is what you see:
Val is close to my heart, literally; I wore her opium den on a dog harness again. This thrifted floral cotton cheongsam cried out for a liberal topping of her Muse Fondue. (See previous post for details about this magnificent diorama.)
Don't let this demure photo fool you. In the wind this kimono-style neon yellow robe billowed extravagantly into oncoming foot traffic and my toolbox handbag swung wildly at my side creating yet another pedestrian hazard.
Almost daily I am confronted downtown by clean young men wearing blue uniform jackets that say "Because I am a Girl" in their job soliciting money for a charity. They are so wide-grinning and their hair is so perfectly coiffed that they could easily be mistaken for cult members. If I'm feeling particularly cheeky I'll state the obvious, "You're not a girl." Impossibly, their grin stretches even wider and I expect a loud snap as their face splits in two. I wonder how people would react if I stood on an opposite corner, clipboard in hand, dressed in a pink uniform jacket that said "Because I am a Boy."
One time in Tokyo I mistook a couple of well-dressed Japanese Jehovah's Witnesses at my door for salespeople of beauty products. The cover of the brochure they politely held out to me featured the most startling beehive hairdos I'd ever seen. I said to them in slow English, "Hairstyles? Beauty products?" while pointing to my head and fluffing imaginary hair. They looked at each other worriedly and gestured to the sky and their chests. Once I realized what they were really selling, I said no thank you and sent them on their way. I think I heard a gasp of relief on their hasty retreat; I sighed because I had missed out on a hair miracle.
It's a tricky business, sending messaging and receiving them as intended. In the Japan case, clearly the misunderstanding was completely my own. How has your week been? Any mixed messages out your way?