August 17, 2011 at 4:40 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Cornflower blue.  I’ve grown to hate cornflower blue.  Yesterday I walked up Eighth Avenue and witnessesed a brigade of cornflower blue shirts.  The four men weren’t marching for a cause.  They weren’t showing camaraderie or looking to stand out as audience members of a stand-up comedy performance they had tickets to.  They weren’t looking to stand out at all.  In fact, the four men dressed identically in cornflower blue didn’t even know each other!  Their “uniform” was a tacit demonstration of working in Corporate America.

I looked down.  I too was wearing cornflower blue.  A cornflower blue oxford shirt care of the good folks over at Brooks Brothers.  An undelicate, right-sized ruffle decorated the collar and let passerbys know that, even though I was dressed in the same colour and boxy shape as the passing platoon, I was female.  This is the level of creativity that goes into dressing to impress.

It’s a sad day when feelings of loathing wrap themselves around an innocent hue; a beautiful hue perhaps!, one that occurs in nature.  And as I sit here, acid scorn rolling through my mouth and washing over my face, a man sits beside me.  He’s wearing cornflower blue, too.

Next week: the gray slacks I just bought at Banana Republic and why I hate them.


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