Today I “had lunch” via the wonders of the internet with two friends who were eating together at the Four Seasons. I was sitting in my house on what’s likely the hottest day we’ve had this year. Until 10pm tonight we’re under a tornado watch.
“So, you got bullied off Instagram by a bunch of angry white hicks and crooks.” said a woman who would like to be called Ariana. This particular friend is not one to mince words and she’s been kind enough to hear and observe my woes on and off for the last three years and she just heard my entire perspective on the situation from me for the first time today.
My other friend who wants to ironically be called Stacy, says very seriously, “But you contributed a lot. You have a huge vintage collection. You analyzed the notes of rare fragrances. It’s almost sickening.” She was an art history major and has a particular concern for the preservation of art.
“True.” Ariana chimes in. “You’d think that people would have valued that more and tried to convince you to at least keep your blog intact.”
I say, “Well, I had some people write loving messages and there are still excellent vintage collectors with-“.
“Collectors?” Ariana cuts me off and chortles. “Yeah, that’s what you called yourself isn’t it?” She smiles, teasingly.
“Oh no. No! They were perfumistas!” Stacy chimes in. And, as she seems to find this term very funny for some reason and starts laughing, I ask why.
“It’s-” Ariana starts to answer the question instead (she has opinions on this too) but before she can speak a full sentence Stacy continues.
“Pretentious.” Stacy states this and then breathes deeply, straightens her posture, elegantly sticks out her chin and grins sweetly. “Anyone who calls themselves a perfumista publicly is either a middle-aged suburban mom trying to sound trés chic or a pretentious a@%hat.” Stacy says this decidedly. (If you’re a good human and you call yourself a perfumista please don’t take this as being a comment about you.).
“You know I’ve called myself a perfumista in the past?” I try to fully disclose my apparent faux pas.
“No. I did not know that. You’ve never identified yourself as that around me. It’s always been, ‘I collect perfumes, specifically vintage.'” Ariana’s lovely smile and dark skin are a perfect match for her silk, magenta and cream colored, polka dot halter blouse. “You’re not pretentious. You’re actually almost too unpretentious for your own good. And thankfully we’re not middle-aged yet.” she says wistfully as she also indicates that she wishes she could give me hug.
Then the conversation turned to matters of age and aging.
I wish I lived closer to these two ladies. Oh well.
Hopefully tonight there won’t be any tornadoes. …And this is the last time I’ll speak of my old account in the context of this blog. I need that chapter to be over here.