Week One

Aug17 2009
The sound of metal against metal, as the wire hangers run across the rod of my new closet; it’s like nails on a chalk board. I pull off a pair of Rock&Republic skinny jeans from the hanger, toss them on the bed and hold the twisted cold wire in my hand the voice of the gorgeous Faye Dunaway playing the glamorous Joan Crawford in “Mommy Dearest”, rings out “No wire hangers ever!!!”. I scan from one side of the closest to the other, fighting the second nature I had developed, to turn around to find another rack of clothes behind me. The shirts visually considered are all less than satisfactory. I have found myself this past week with a repeating the desire in my head; “If only I had that one.” Each shirt, blouse, pair of denim, shoe and accessory reminds me of the ones I no longer have. As a matter of fact, there is hardly a moment of the day where I am not reminded of something left behind or give up. My car, my furniture, all gone, all used mainly to clear my credit cards.

I spent my first week in this city feeling deprived, alone and lost; no longer a motorist, having to rejoin the world of pedestrians and public transit users has been an interesting venture in itself. I find it amusing, not only as a woman but as a human how comforted and reassured we can make ourselves by material things. When it has all been stripped away, we are left only with the people in our lives for that comfort and reassurance. Me, having neither abundantly available I debate which would be more comforting now: my best friend from T.O. or my Donna Karan oversized cashmere shawl. “If Maslow were here” I thought, “he would grimace as my pyramid was a dishevelled as the pile of ‘rejected’ outfits on my bed”. Throwing the thought from my mind, along with a couple of shirts from their hangers to my bed, I close my eyes and randomly grab one. Knowing full well that regardless of which I chose I would not be happy with it. For all the times I have utilized the cliché “I have noting to wear”. It finally really felt like it. Damn I wish I had that Donna Karan shawl.

Finally decided on an ensemble, Skinny Jeans, Marciano gladiator sandals and seventies feeling white organza tank from Dolce&Gabanna, I walk down to Eau Claire market for the “Taste of Calgary”. It was a half hour walk but compared to testing my luck on transit again it was quick. I was reminded of Ashbridge’s Bay Park back home. Beyond that, the crowd comforted me the most. Still not able to shake the feeling of discontent with my choice of shirt and shoes it was consoling to know I could become lost in the crowd going un recognized by anyone. “It’s so different here” I mused to myself, “Calgary is so casual!” The scores of people hustled about the square, all at their own leisure. Their attire and demeanour so much more relaxed than what I am used to. I was amazed when I hadn’t been pushed, bumped or cut in front of while waiting for Thai. If only ‘Thai’ was the name of a guy I was waiting for. With no one to talk to I had to do something with my mouth. So I traveled the world Visiting: Greece, Istanbul, Africa, The Caribbean, returning from my time abroad sans photographs and souvenirs but with heart burn. I ask a passer by where I can buy some ginger extract ( works amazing for heartburn). “In this area?” He paused, “I don’t think the mall would have anywhere that sells it but you could try the convenience store inside.” My pulse quickened at the mention of the word “mall”. I think I might have even mouthed the word before I replied to him. “Where exactly?” I inquired vacantly. He pointed across the square to the small building I thought was office space. I thanked him airily and began floating through the crowd, which turned to storming through the crowd as my Toronto nature kicked in.

I reached the entrance, pulled the handle, stepped through the door and into… I laughed loudly and two ladies looked back at me. I was the crazy woman laughing aloud by herself. “This isn't a mall! It's a market.” I realized and I felt the muscles in my face contort in dissapointment. I moved through the desolate expanse, wondering what tragedy took place here. I ended up first at the food court which was a dead end. On my way back I passed by the convenience store, suddenly remembering why I was there in the first place I checked for my ginger extract. No avail. I returned the way I came in, “This can’t be what shopping is like everywhere in this city!” I thought. I stopped right before the doors and decided a chai latte would make me feel better. When I got to the till to order I discovered Calgary and Toronto… Not so different. I saw two uninterested eyes glance up at me through a pair of peroxide blonde, blunt bangs. Her acknowledgment was so quick I wouldn’t be able to tell you what color they were. Every movement, breath and gesture she made screamed out ‘I hate my job’. She did all but throw my coffee at me as she dropped my change on the counter, while my hand was outreached and she mustered what must have been the extent of her manners “Have a good day.” Accustomed to this I turned was about to leave, instead I looked back at her and said “I know smiling can give you wrinkles hun, but not as badly as that tanning bed you’re over using.” I guess we each pick and choose our battles.

The outburst of sass caused me to reconsider exiting the building. I chose to explore the other side of the market. It was all very quaint, mom and pop shops and the such, I rounded the hall and came across a studio for latin ballroom dance lessons. “Dance lessons?” I entertained the idea. “Well I would, but I don’t have a partner or the right shoes”. My eyes moved to the right to a pair of leopard print salsa heels displayed in the window. “I would almost prefer the shoes over the partner”. As my mind contemplated, my index finger briefly rubbed overtop of the raised numbers on my credit card…..

XoRachel