Last night, I got up with my pal Aziza.
Every time I've ever shown you Aziza, you say, "Oh, she's pretty. Who's that?" Yeah. She's pretty cause she's a freaking model, who has been on the cover of Vogue. And I've told you this before, but when we first became friends I was stalking her Facebook page, as one always does now when someone meets someone, and how did we stalk people before Facebook is what I wanna know. I mean, when I was 23 I used to park in the lot underneath my then-boyfriend's house and look in his windows, and sometimes he wasn't there because he was at my house trying to look in my windows, and what we had was a healthy relationship.
Once we passed each other, late at night. I was in my car and he was on his bike. "Were you just riding past my house?"
"I was driving past yours. I was thinking of making a cake. Wanna come over?"
So we stopped stalking each other and made a chocolate cake at 2:00 in the morning. He actually knew how to cook, so see? Silver lining. Now I have a lovely relationship but we starve to death.
MY POINT IS, I knew Aziza was a fancy model and on her FB page are some modeling shots from the '70s and '80s, and among them? An Aziza cosmetics ad. AZIZA COSMETICS!!!
This is not her, but I TOTALLY REMEMBER this particular Aziza ad. I would PORE over those ads, and I would do EVERYTHING THEY TOLD ME and have stunning peach-and-lavender eyelids. This is one of the reasons it drives me berserk when people say blue eye shadow was an '80s thing. Have you ever noticed people attribute everything to the '80s? Bugs me. I've heard people say the Bee Gees are an '80s thing. They were the quintessential '70s thing, the Bee Gees were. Burns me up.
My point is, the very person I was staring at and doing my blush like or whatever is now a person I know. I mean, how exciting did my life get? Look at the glamor train I got on, here, in Greensboro, North Carolina. Lived in LA for 10 years, didn't meet any dang Aziza model.
Here's me last night and I wonder if I could look more glum. I must be a riot to hang out with. A quiet riot. And as you can tell from both our hair, it was about to rain. In fact, as soon as our food came, it DID rain, and we had to scream inside with our plates.
I got a salad and smothered fries. Shut up.
We talked about smells, eventually. I forget how we segued to that topic, and I really love the word "segued," how it LOOKS like you should pronounced it seg-u-d. It kills me, that word. Somehow I mentioned that I used to work at this place that did presentations, and I had to put said presentations in these big binders that smelled just like a new doll.
"Oh, a new DOLL!" she said, looking Aziza-y. I wonder if she got free Aziza for life? Because I am 100% out of frosty lustre eye shadows. "I always loved the smell of Play-Doh, then it was so disappointing when it tasted so salty."
I mentioned how if I smell Gloria Vanderbilt perfume, I'm instantly back in 11th grade. She said she bought English Leather for her boyfriend when she was 12, and she still loves the smell of English Leather.
"Let's have an agreement," said Ned, when I called him on the way home. "Let's agree that you will NEVER buy me English Leather." You know, I don't think I've ever SMELLED English Leather. My Uncle Jim had bottles of Aqua Velva up in the bathroom, and I used to smell those. I think those came in different scents. Also in that bathroom was my gramma's Jean Nate after-bath splash, and THAT smell takes me right back there to her soft toilet seat and crocheted toilet-paper cover.
Anyway, it was a fine evening, and now I have to put on my English leathers and head to work. It's casual hunting Friday.