YESTERDAY,
after growing my hair out for six months,
I chose a vintage Hermes scarf to tie it back
in the Vogue model style I wore when
she first fell in love with me.
.
I squeezed into a Saks Fifth Avenue label outfit
from the early 70’s that she’d packed away.
.
I applied Germaine Monteil makeup coaxed
from half-a-century old tin foil samples.
.
I selected a pair of Trifari, love-knot,
clip-on earrings that haven’t seen daylight
for five decades.
.
Neither had the ecru garter belt and bare beige nylons
I slipped into with less ease.
.
Finally, I splashed just a hint of Shalimar
to the nape of my neck.
.
It worked.
~
TODAY,
she asked me to make an appointment
to get my hair cut.
.
She returned the outfit, scarf, garter belt and nylons
to the memento place at the bottom of
our 19th century humpback trunk.
.
She mentioned she missed the emerald studs
I’ve worn daily in my earlobes for thirteen years.
.
She sprayed Shout on the Germaine Monteil
makeup stained washcloth.
.
And … let me think …
.
Oh! … yes.
.
She wrote “Shalimar”
on her holiday shopping list.
.
~
# # #
Marguerite Quantaine is an essayist and novelist
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IMOGENE’S ELOISE: Inspired by a true love story.
SERIOUSLY, MOM, you didn’t know?
I was once sued by the Town of Huntington, NY for 7 million dollars, plus interest since 1797, and a sentence of one year in jail for refusing to surrender documents to the town historian, Rufus B. Langhams, who alleged, under oath, had been stolen from the Town by a colonial-era employee and kept hidden by his ancestors for 195 years until I was consigned to auction the papers off along with the contents of the family estate.
M A G P I E à la modus operandi 