25th
Receeding
There is nothing like a really bad recession to give one a sense of bona fide entitlement.
Lunch hour, midtown: Anthropologie makes no concession to recession. Women cluster in midwestern corsages, idling in home decor for an aromatherapeutic infusion before plucking gingham dresses to lift to lilting frames. It’s Little House on the Prairie couture with a slightly higher thread count, except that Laura Ingalls would have had to sell the farm to wear one of these frocks.
“But it’s only 148 dollars.” M’s breath scratches on the ‘8’ note, textured like the all-natural, sub-prime soap suds she just foreclosed on in bathwear.
I’m different, difficult. I want my Recession Specials: Indefinite restaurant week at Sardis (although I have never been to Sardis and am not sure if I would even like it), an UWS apartment with two months free - and pets (they already wait in the apartment for me, tails wagging and housebroken), and an eternity in Calvin Klein whites.
If Rogaine were smart they would even start packaging recession specials for the receeding.
I eat my recession lunch special instead. The grape jelly, I believe, was at least marked down by at least 10%.
