I went shopping at H&M yesterday afternoon with my new football friends (before Alabama lost to Georgia in an ultimately disappointing but better-than-I-thought-it-would-go game). There are some delicious new sweaters and colors out there, so, on the one hand, I am very excited about the Swedes. On the other hand, I have a bone to pick... I bought this beautiful, gray silk dress--it looks like a jumper (E, darling, you will be very excited about this purchase). And I didn't try it on in the store because I had no desire to grapple with pre-pubescent customers or languid sales-clerks in the small, hot, dark dressing rooms.
Instead, I try on the dress this morning, and it looks fabulous EXCEPT for the fact that it won't zip up over my breasts. Good length, good material, good color, good fit everywhere else. And then the Jessica Rabbit effect. Nice. I am taking it to the tailor--"Tailor, my friend," I'll say, "we must adjust this dress away from the French ideal of perfect breast size (fitting into a champagne glass) toward the American ideal (fitting into a... well, a more substantial container, I imagine)." I hope that my tailor will work with me.
One more thing--had a deliciously Manhattan moment before the Bama game. We were standing outside their apartment on 53rd street, waiting for plates of yummy Chicken and Rice. That's right, this food stand has its own wiki. And, man, is that wiki deserved... super tasty, cheap, and the yogurt sauce is awesome. Of course, because of their reputation, the lines are always long. We got in line about 7:30 (game started at 7:45 but they have TiVo. Plus, all we missed was stupid Georgia scoring on the first fucking drive. Stupid Georgia). We got our food at about 8:20... and the line was still growing when we walked away. Chatted with some interesting dudes behind me--one of them is beginning his dissertation at Princeton. His field is Islamic Studies, and he's thinking of writing about the concept of duress in discussions and applications of Islamic law--i.e. when in situations of coercion and duress, when are laws being broken? Does the Koran allow for recants if admissions were made under duress? I don't know anything about those discussions, but it did remind me of our boy, Aristotle, and his inartistic proofs.
So that was my Manhattan moment--chicken and rice, Islamic studies, and Aristotle under a New York moon. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday night.