By: Gabriela Yareliz
There we were. All of us in the moving train car. A small bullet of speed moving underground (much too slow). All of us like shards of glass soon to be dispersed into a million little directions, launched into our day. But before that, we are sharing space. We are avoiding eye contact and making our silent statements.
First, there is the older man with the striped button down shirt tucked under a black leather jacket. His jeans are youthfully tight (too tight). His hair is a mess. He looks familiar, like an old celebrity I should care about. He has a weighty camera around his neck. He has boots and red glasses. He stands for a bit and then gets a seat.
A tall leggy green-eyed young woman gets on the train. She has a baby pink satin bomber jacket with asian art on the back. Dragons or something. Her hair is high. Her mint green skirt is higher and so short. Our eyes are glued to her long legs as she leans against the poll. Her skirt has a dangerous slit that leads to God-knows-where. I am afraid that if she wobbles and falls over, it will be embarrassing for all of us. She finally wedges herself down onto the blue subway bench next to me. Her skirt so short, I am sure it’s her butt directly on the bench. She starts online shopping and looks at a Saint Laurent calfskin bag on Vestaire Collective. She is engrossed.
A young man against the doors is also looking at her legs with effort– or whatever he can see from his angle. He looks stiff, like he is clenching every muscle. His blue suit is new and still has the little thread on the back flap. He looks deeply uncomfortable. Like a twelve year old dressed like a salesman. He looks so stressed and almost sweaty, I look away and let him stare at the Saint Laurent girl next to me, unchecked.
Lastly, in walks a chic young woman. She has leopard print loafers, jeans with holes in them (but still chic) with a cropped cut. She has a leather jacket and a lime green bag. The bag is stunning and has a magnetic closure. It pops against her edgy but chic outfit. Her hair is pulled back revealing simple and understated gold earrings and an elegant hair clip. The bag is unlike anything I have ever seen. I finally find it later online. It’s a Wandler cross-body bag. (This only matters because I was proud I found it because I had no idea what brand it was). I tried taking photos of my Kindle to get a shot of her chic outfit in the background.
She won the game on the train. She was the most chic. She was the most interesting. There was something about her that made me want to try harder. She seemed creative. Inspired, almost. She was original. I guess we all were, except for the suit kid.
There we went– a random group of strangers staring at each other– all getting off at different stops and going in a million different directions. Silent statements made. Our messaging never truly turned off.
GABRIELA YARELIZ 