The Grudge

So, it’s the dead of winter here.  And while that means a very different thing in Barcelona than it does in Portland, my attitude of “meh, it’ll be like 50 degrees warmer there so a sweater, a light purple jacket oughta do it” was idiotic and ill-conceived.  50 degrees warmer than when I left is still only 50 degrees.

I’m freezing, and at the depth (assuming depth is the proper opposite of height here) of fashion.

This is not my first go ‘round with frigidity and a purple jacket, mind you. In college, I had an ugly one that maintained serviceability in that I spent most of my money on Ushuaia and Strange Pleasure shows and couldn’t afford another.  Amy hated that jacket and snuck it into the box to Goodwill.  Hence the frigidity: of her cold, cold heart.  It was the 1990s and I am not over it, Amy!  And I still want my life-sized cardboard Han Solo back, destructive college neighbors who also once stole my shepherd’s pie!

Anyway, here I stick out like a sore plum.  I kept an eye out yesterday because I wanted to know if it was my imagination or if truly I was the only one dressing like an Easter egg.  After 12 miles on the ‘dometer, though, it was clear that the only other women in colored coats were matchy-matchy together and I don’t have a lesbian partner as an excuse. Even if Shakira is potentially in town.

So I’m channeling both Amy and Chrissy today.  I’m not a “shop your buns off” kinda girl but I’m even less a “freeze ‘em off” one.  And since the line of designer shops here could be the setting for a Shannon Doherty/Jason Priestly television sequel, I’m going to make the old friends proud.

I don’t know to whom Shakira was singing, but it’s just goosebumps underneath my clothes.  I might wanna fix that.

Addendum: I did find a jacket and it is way more toasty, but after hours of shopping ineptitude- I stood in three different lines at the “I forgot the cable that attaches my camera to my computer” store before finding an actual cashier- I decided a hotel nap was more attractive than wandering.  And it was, until magic hour hit and I remembered that I was only a few blocks from the Mediterranean and hadn’t yet moseyed on down.   So I strapped on my jacket and hauled out the Fuji and wandered around taking pictures of interesting buildings and the occasional anatomically correct iron lion.  So there’s that, and it is pretty.   Here:

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