Deals, No Deals and Dressy Sweatshirts

Ughh! What a week. No resolution with either deal. Well, that's not true. The Korean was rejected by a second building. Friday was a bunch of waiting around for the nothing that happened. At the end of the day, we got a new client that seemed promising but totally came unraveled before the Saturday morning appointment. I had to fire them.

Saturday I escaped work after only an hour or so and came home to make brandade. After a delicious Euro lunch with Amy, including special pink wine I have been saving, I braved Beacon's Closet for the first time in probably a year and emerged victorious with a pair of designer jeans and a handbag I can use for work. I killed (with my eyes) 2 or 3 hipster kids who fell into my path to the cash register. Just kidding. It was a rare afternoon when I was not annoyed by but amused by/indifferent to grey ankle boots, dressy sweatshirts, multiple gold necklaces and haircuts. Probably because I have one. A haircut I mean. That and my snobby attitude toward everything are the only things about me that fit in in Williamsburg.

Hipsters don't really wear dressy sweatshirts. That is a phrase borrowed from my description of "Pot Luck Fashion" during the grandma year. You know, Christmas sweatshirts, Halloween sweatshirts, Thanksgiving sweatshirts, puppies, grandchildren's names, plastic jewels and beads? Lace? Maybe a brooch? Hey wait, dressy sweatshirts are ironic in Brooklyn, right? So I guess they do wear dressy sweatshirts. Never mind.