A Rose-Covered Skirt and a Touch of Lipstick

Personal Yummy #53

I curl my hair in the elegant, gold-framed mirror in my living room—the TV on in the background—and I put on a bit of makeup. I wear my long, black, lacy skirt and my flowery purple top that I’ve had forever (fortunately, it still looks new).

It is a beautiful, warm evening at the beginning of October, so I decide to walk there. Besides, my unlimited subway pass expired a few days ago.

Before I leave, however, I make sure to fill my little black bag (the one that has the hot-pink trim accenting the four zippered pockets on the front) with the necessities: a black, button-up cardigan (the newest one that my mom gave me when she and our friend Bella visited not too long ago; the brand is Melrose Chic New York); a tiny bottle of water; my diminutive black umbrella that my dad got at an auction sale—it came in an oblong, silver, hard case, kind of like an eyeglass case; and a small hardcover book: Devotion, by Patti Smith, which Bella had bought for me when she, my mom, and I were looking around Barnes & Noble on 86th Street. In fact, she took my M Train book—also by Patti Smith—home with her to read.

It feels so good to start walking and to be outside, and I am happy, on my way to meet my friend at one of our favorite East Side restaurants.

Instead of walking up 86th Street to Fifth, I decide to take a different route, so I head toward 87th Street. The scenery is pleasant and new, and I admire cute shops and attractive restaurants that I have never noticed before.

As I said, I was planning to go to Fifth, but when I get to Madison, I can’t help but turn left onto it. Moreover, at the corner of 86th Street, I just have to stop and gaze at the Williams Sonoma window display. And there it is again: that stunning, impressive, Italian, burgundy range—with the regal silver handles—that I have relished from afar so many times already. I understand that it is, in all reality, just an upscale stove…but, somehow—from my spot here on the sidewalk—it is the ultimate of luxury and sensuousness.

I decide then and there that I will own that handmade and intricately designed delight in the not-too-distant future.

I thoroughly enjoy my walk down Madison, and I pass many individuals and couples who are enjoying an evening walk too. There is so much eye candy to marvel at: beautiful shops and beautiful restaurants, including Ristorante Morini. A classy, U-shaped bar is visible through the glass walls—with intimate lights and delicate champagne flutes dangling above it and around it—as well as quaint, square tables nearby, with impeccable white cloths. From the outside, it all looks mysterious and magical, as if once you walk in there and order some raw oysters and Prosecco or take time for a meal, you’ll be a better, more refined version of yourself.

About halfway to my destination, I am shocked to encounter two impressive stone mansions. One is on one side of Madison Avenue, on the corner, and the other one is facing it on the opposite side of the avenue. But what is so amazing is that they are both lit up in hot pink! Truly, they look like something out of a fairy tale.

When I am about three blocks away, I get out my phone and check the time. It is already around five to seven. I’ve been having lots of fun looking around and window shopping, so I am not surprised that almost an hour has flown by.

Soon thereafter, as I near the restaurant, I have to wait a few moments to cross the street; people are jumping into and out of cabs, and there is a significant amount of traffic. But when I do cross the street, I can see clearly through the front glass wall of the restaurant, and there my friend is, sitting at the end of the bar. And instead of her usual glass of Chardonnay, a fancy cocktail is joining her.

And I know I’m viewing her from quite a few feet away, but how she looks strikes me.

She seems so different. So utterly different.

So different from the friend who had joined me there for a drink just a couple of weeks before.

Yes, just a couple of weeks before, when I arrived, she had her phone up in front of her, and an intense, sad look was controlling her face. In fact, she looked way older than she is, and she appeared defeated: no makeup; hair pulled back; a brown sweater over an ordinary black top.

But now.

I go in and sit down beside her and tell her how pretty her skin looks; her skin is glistening, and some of her wrinkles have disappeared. I even ask her if she has gotten a facial.

I don’t mention it, but I can’t get over how much more joyful, and confident—and sexy—she seems, and she tells me that, for the first time in years, she has actually been feeling happy. Lately, she has been making the effort to take time for herself and to notice the little things. She even slowed down one morning this past week to go back and listen to a woman playing the harp on the subway platform…she said that the experience was so calming and enriching.

In addition, she is wearing a long, black skirt—covered with opulent, textured, eye-catching red roses—and a form-fitting, shiny, sleeveless maroon top.

Again, I am rather struck by all of this. Rarely, if ever, have I seen her bathed in color.

What’s more, she is wearing a hint of maroon lipstick, something new for her too.

She offers me a sip of her mojito. I order a glass of Cabernet, and she takes a sip of that as well. We share a few appetizers. We chat easily and joyfully and enjoy each other’s company. And, unexpectedly—for the first time in a long time—the sorrow is absent.

A rose-covered skirt and a touch of lipstick…

Amazing—isn’t it?—what they can do.