…almost notching up a year-long hiatus. How you doing, dear reader? Advance warning; I hope this post doesn’t leave you with the feeling I’m rambling, which as you can already see, I am. Some suspiciously potent Pimms punch be to blame. Anyhoo. En route home from the Pimms-hosting friends, I found myself nonsensically transfixed by some spangly gloves (mine) reflecting some sort of mythic light (from the lamp post which heralds the beginning of my street). After at least seven minutes of inner dialogue (“Are you not 28? What kind of grown up buys gloves with a surface area of ostentatious, faux gold dots?”), a word came to mind…
I don’t mean wealth, prosperity or any of that shit. Just the feeling of being “rich” in something and feeling good about it.
I suppose the day I walked into H&M and saw those glimmery hand warmers, they must have seen me coming too (family joke – “Yeah, she’s the bowerbird”). For some reason, a cute, very inebriated friend-of-a-friend comes to mind as a good analogy – she was dancing manically to some Kanye song as her sober mates looked on and said “Right now, there is not one problem in the world!” And yeah, donning those gloves better suited to a ten year old gave the same feeling.
Being rich in love, creativity, knowledge, perspective, whatever. Don’t deny yourself the escapism of a guilty pleasure – sometimes the immaterial helps highlight the essentials*.
*Except where ‘essentials’ refers to ‘good taste in music’ and ‘guilty pleasure’ equates to a disturbingly insatiable addiction to the works of Thirty Seconds To Mars, but that’s a story for another day