Is it the shock of the first actually chilly day that has people looking a little disheveled this morning? There’s a young man (he’s my age – that’s still young, right?) walking down the sidewalk away from the diner that’s across the street. He’s in a suit but his shirt tail is peeking out under the back of his jacket. He’s lumbering rather than looping, a tired walk, heavy and a little sad. A very light drizzle, barely a mizzle, has started. It makes him clutch his take-out boxes closer, even though they’re tied into the plastic bag he carries in one hand. 

In contrast, a young woman walks by the coffee shop – the big garage door is open to the fall breeze – but she does not seem to notice her coffee-shop audience. She’s delighting in today’s temperature. How can I tell? It’s a combination of things, I think. She’s wearing a textured brown sweater striped with rusty orange and a deep fall-leaf red. It looks new and I’d bet she’s been watching the weather forecast, awaiting the day she gets to make the big reveal. Honestly, who wouldn’t? That sweater is FIRE. Her lipstick matches the red stripe and it looks goooood. She knows it, too. She’s walking tall – a wide-open stride, her doc martens hitting the pavement with that sound that doc martens make. 

I know this sound well. I’m not wearing my docs today but only because I refuse to give in to the siren call of autumn days. It’s too gray today to celebrate the crisp air and decaying-leaf smell that signals the end of another season. The fall decorations are up across the street at the bakery, big colorful leaves and pumpkins but I remain committed to summer, my only concession to the weather is my jeans.

Musical interlude: Van Morrison, “Someone Like You”

The clouds have broken, encouraging more pedestrian traffic. It’s causing a hypothesis to spring to mind on this autumn day, as another woman strides past. She is wearing a pretty long-sleeved peasant blouse and tossing her shampoo-commercial hair. I want to walk with that amount of confidence on a gray September day. 

The danger of testing a hypothesis is the data cherry-picking that occurs. Case in point, the man walking by in a nice flannel. He’s dressed perfectly fine, not remarkably but hardly disheveled. Instead, I focus on the man walking across the street. He’s wearing vibrant blue knee-high soccer socks, matching soccer shorts, shower shoes – the slip-on kind that guys seem to favor – and a long-sleeved blue shirt that, tonally, is drastically different from the socks and shorts. 

Musical interlude:  Joy Division, “Love Will Tear Us Apart”

We could – if we were objectifying people, which we are NOT doing because it’s wrong – discuss the very affectionate fit of the jeans on the man who just entered the diner. Those are some nice jeans. They’re doing a great job. I’d like to give those jeans a gold star. 

I regularly see a big, bearded man who rides a rental scooter on one of the busiest roads in our community. He fully rides down the middle of the street gesturing angrily at the cars, actively daring drivers to cross him, test him. He wants trouble but he’s angry, not enjoying the challenge that he throws out.

Musical interlude: Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds, “Red Right Hand”

Here, though, the scooter riders are almost joyful. The sun is out at the moment and shining brightly on the opposite side of the street. They fly past, those scooter-riders, their hair streaming behind them, their clothes brilliant in the light, their smiles big, wide. The last time I had a smile like that I was riding a bike downhill, my speedometer approaching 40mph. I still think about how that felt, the tingle of terror at the speed, the weightless, effortlessness of it. They’re probably cold but nobody thinks of that when they’re flying and the sun is shining and just for a moment they’re powerful and free from responsibility.

Musical interlude: Yard Act w/Elton John, “100% Endurance”

Perhaps there is something in the air today. A man far too old for me (lol) called me beautiful when he tried to hold the door for me this afternoon. I laughed which probably wasn’t the proper response but I did thank him so there’s that at least. Then, as I was walking home from a diner in Bloomfield where I met my eldest for lunch, a man in a dump truck was … um, politely admiring, which was nice, I guess. I did check when I got home and yes, I am fully dressed and not flashing anything. Must, indeed, be something in the air today or maybe my jeans should also get a gold star? 

Musical interlude: Daniel Nunnelee, “Pick and Choose” 

Go outside, even if just for a minute today, and breathe it in. There’s something in the air.

Much love.