Pornland! It's August! The only month around here that you
really can count on being nice and steamy. Finally time
to pull out every short skirt, tiny halter top and pair
of non-sensible open-toed high heeled sandals you gals have
It's too bad we chicas can't make tips whilst
walkin' down the street in our barely-theres, cuz we sure
are taking a pay cut at the downtown clubs, which are
all but deserted while the sun's out and long tanned legs
parade by in microminis GRATIS.
gotta love all the pretty birds
mincing around in tiny skirts and
So, sans the singles I'm accustomed to accumulating
for baring flesh, my reveries have been centered around
the important charitable work we women do, merely by beautifying
ourselves and walking around amongst the masses. It really
is a public service, a morale booster, as much an affirmation
of life as a garden of rose bushes or a statue of Abe
Being attractively turned out when the heat
is on is not as simple as it appears, either. Boys, with
their more limited dress code, might never comprehend
the generous service the ladies perform in the summer.
It may even appear to them that we are merely gluttonous
in our shopping habits and unbearably impractical and
whiny when our little stiletto mules cut into our tender
foot flesh after only two city blocks. But you gotta love
all the pretty birds mincing around in tiny skirts and
oh-so-NOT-Portland non-chunky heels.
My litany of complaints inspired by my summer
wardrobe starts with the most obvious. Lasting from fifteen
to twenty warmish days, Portland's summer is hardly long
enough to wear every pair of cute summer shoes I collect
over the course of a year. I find myself changing outfits
three or four times a day, just so I can be sure that
every outfit gets its time in the sun. It's a miracle
I leave the house at all. If I actually have to leave
the neighborhood, I need to wear shoes or boots made for
walking, or I need to drive the half mile downtown and
deal with parking. And driving a stick with six-inch platform
heels is tricky (and illegal in Japan). Guys, are you
appreciating this? Anyway, it's a pretty tortuous process,
really, and I feel some kind of remuneration might be
There is an entire category of complaints reserved for the short
skirt. For instance, the day may appear sunny and hot
on your porch, but once you're downtown, you may notice
for the first time the wind tunnel affect created by the
rows of tall buildings. However, I do LUV to see ladies
walking around holding their purses, cell phones and myriad
parcels all in one hand while nervously clutching their
flyaway skirt to their thighs with the other. It didn't
feel that short at home, did it?! And best of all, I like
looking for glimpses of panties.
Also on the "curse this skirt" list: if it's short enough, sitting
down gracefully presents a problem. Twice this summer
I've found myself hurrying along a conversation or meeting,
all the while perched precariously on the very very edge
of my seat so as not to have the chair's pattern follow
me around the rest of the day in seemingly permanent pink
welts. And you really start to notice the age and quality
of certain movie theaters when parts of you that are normally
covered come cheek-to-cheek with upholstery that's seen
a lot of popcorn and Pepsi.
Finally, most groovy summer wear has no pockets. You have to take
a purse. Or a boyfriend. And I hate carrying a purse!
But I do it. And get that sorta sanctimonious feeling,
like, "How generous of me, to be inconveniencing myself
just to decorate Portland's Clean and Safe streets; what
a valuable function I am performing in society." Heads
turn, guys holler and whistle, and I may wish I were wearing
a trench coat atop my white miniskirt and crocheted bikini
top and maybe some speedier kicks... But then I think,
"What would Charlie's Angels do?"
Here's lookin' at you, ladies.
p.s. Always, always reapply lipstick
in public. It is so super hot when you do that!