Had a lovely brunch with my momma this morning in Westwood.
As we were leaving Mr. David Schwimmer waltzed in. That's him over my mom's right shoulder inside the restaurant sporting all denim. Very 90s of him
My mom thought he was much taller than she expected. Me not so much. I did think it was adorable that her sweater was conveniently wrapped exactly like Jennifer Aniston's for the Ross encounter ;)
Went from a celebrity encounter to a psycho encounter. Check this out:
I am reading a magazine at Barnes and Nobles waiting to watch Rachel Got Married. A woman approaches the newstand speaking VERY LOUDLY into her cellphone. She is meow meow meowing about how the world is going to hell in a handbasket. It registers but I don't look up.
When she starts VERY LOUDLY spewing ugly things about Obama I look up. She acknowledges me acknowledging her. Kinda bugs her eyes out me daring me to say something. Ugh, I think and keep quiet. BTW, she is probably my mom's age but looks like the Cryptkeeper. Not even kidding.
Then she proceeds to start turning over magazines on the newstand with Obama on the cover, still continuing to spew hate loudly on the phone. I stare incredulously. So does an African American woman next to me. Still I say nothing. I don't give her the satisfaction of a reaction which is clearly what she is looking for...like a child.
But when she turns over the Jet magazine that has nothing to do with Obama, I lose it. I turn it back around and hiss, What are you doing???? Bitch says, Excuse me, who is talking to you. Are you looking at that magazine.
Me: No, but other people are.
Bitch: You should mind your own business and stop being so nosy.
Me: And you should stop trying to dictate what people read. You don't have the right to censor the newstand.
She has no response for that so starts calling me names to the person she's talking to on the phone. My mom hears the kerfuffle and approaches looking ready to kill someone. She might be small but she is scary strong. I calm her down and tell her not to start anything.
But after a minute, the woman continues to turn over magazines!! The African American lady shakes her head calmly. Sadness mixes with rage in her eyes. Her stance is so dignified and yet so defeated that it makes me want to scream.
I march over to the three kids behind the counter and tell them what Bitch is up to. I tell them that I am horribly offended and that they should not stand for someone censoring their newstand, not in the United States. They are horrified and call over their manager immediately.
The manager watches her for a minute, shakes his head and firmly tells the woman to stop her idiocy. She tries to fight him but can't. She is selling crazy but no one is buying.
Desperate, she turns to me and calls me a nosy bitch. I tell her I'd rather be a nosy bitch than ignorant. She says she is not ignorant. And I say, I think you are. I think you are nothing but ignorant trash.
At this point I am shaking. 31 years of being pleasant and pleasing and lovely and appropriate go out the door. There is no filter. I am Diabolina's rage.
I am enraged for so many reasons. I am enraged at the state this country is in. I am enraged at the good old boys who got us in this financial and political mess. I am enraged that Obama is still judged by the color of his skin not the content of his character. I am enraged that friends who have done Obama phone banks tell me they can hear the racism in people's voices - in the space between the words there is hate.
I am enraged that in 2008 a dignified black woman stands by while someone offends her. I am enraged that Chowmein's beautiful brilliant children and anyone's children will have to bear wounds inflicted by ignorance. I am enraged that I have been so naive, enraged that I live in a bubble and think everyone is as accepting as I am. I am enraged that my mother just became a citizen of a country that remains racially divided, one that - on some level - still considers her and thus me second class. I am enraged.
Then as if things weren't bad enough, Bitch brings fashion into it. She says she is not trash and says just because I have a designer bag doesn't make me better than anyone. To which I reply, I don't think my bag makes me better than anyone. That's your insecurity talking. I don't think what I wear defines who I am. My actions and what I do define who I am.
And then I walked away. I was too close to lowering myself and becoming trash by continuing to engage trash.
Forever 21 romper
Banana Republic tank top
Forever 21 bangle
Cole Haan sandals
Bummed this romper doesn't photograph as cool as it is. The drape is alot more flattering than it appears in the picture above. Made me feel super slinky all day.
Love the olive color and the little detailing. Very fabulous for just $15.
Reminded me of the green jumpers on the Spring Chloe runway
So seventies glam.
Also reminded me of the looks at BCBG for Spring.
Heart how so many of the rompers look like dresses.
Adoring neutrals lately.
Probably because my politics are anything but lately :)
Wore these gorg bright blue shoes to perk up the staid color of the romper. Glad I didn't really get into it with that beotch. These shoes would not have been great fighting shoes.