Words and Blossoms

Sometimes a compliment arrives like the pink blossoms of spring. Suddenly, out of nowhere. The other day, after a long walk at the beach, I stop at the deli grocery store in Inverness to treat myself with their heavenly poppyseed bear claw before driving home. Entering, I notice the young man at the cash register, his energy shy, a slight hint of awkwardness in his movement and demeanor. Something is endearingly different about him. Is he an introverted teenager or already in his twenties? A silently rebellious youth, a musician? Someone who gets easily lost reading sci-fi novels, swallowed up in video games, or takes to sewing clothes, growing cactuses? For a few seconds, curiosity arising with silently flickering questions… what garden is behind the gate?

He pulls the pastry from the glass display and before ringing me up, he raises his head and now looks me directly in the eye: “I have to say this: your outfit is fantastic!” He nods emphatically, his voice gentle and confident. I am baffled, caught off guard. Did he just say these enthusiastic words? Really? His honest admiration seems to have him broken open, out of nowhere. Now, he is exposed, and so am I. The middle-aged man behind me takes a step back, turns half way, as if this comment was just a bit too personal, too intimate, and he should have not overheard it.

patterns…

 

Time slows to a crawl, looking down I fumble with my dollar bills. And then, lifting my head again, I smile slightly embarrassed like a teenager: “Ohh…” Long pause, my eyes meet his: “Thank you!” I add simply, no other words need or want to be said. Just as I can hear his sincerity, I suspect him noticing my true surprise. And with this we seal our brief private moment, an intimate exchange between strangers. Lasting only a minute or so. How rare. Is it his innocent simple directness that is taking my breath, stunning me? As I leave pushing through the swinging doors, my mind zooms out. I marvel at the scenario, a 70-year-old woman coming from her beach visit, being complimented by the 20-year-old store clerk. Bridging half a century. As I drive home, I can’t shake my delight. The shy young man is struck by my outfit or look, speaks up, and with that reveals himself. His own taste. Intuitively, I know what inspires him. The subtle art. The freedom. Me, playing with my often very old, recycled clothes. This personal expression – perhaps a bit unusual, not average fashion style – might ignite his desire to break free. Now and then we encounter something that we recognize from our deepest core, the music or beauty of it opens us, and sets us free. To see and be seen.

Very comfortable: checkered wide flannel pants with huge pockets,

lose top also checkered in black and white patterns, with big square buttons,

my German felt hat with a wide brim. (Photo by Emma Craig)

 

I myself enjoy people who clothe and adorn themselves in unique and beautiful ways. When dressing I experiment with colors, shapes, textures, wondering if I can tease with this or that detail a different “look” into existence. A habit since I am very young, it only takes a few minutes. And it is lifting my spirit. The clothes will reflect how I feel, it’s not about fashion. Some days, it moves the world around me too, people will comment, appreciate, and I will laugh. Perhaps the young store clerk is an artist, or he just likes playfulness. In return, I am gifted with a delightful surprise which lingers for days – remembering the beauty blossoming in his face, opened up… alive…