It was freezing cold in Glasgow. I put on a hoodie, pulled on a coat, dragged on a hat. It was one of those woolly ones that goes over your ears and has a toggle on top; it is blue with some Icelandic designs knitted in it and has two plaited ropes that tie under your chin. Basically it looks cool on a young Swedish blonde chic but on me it screamed ‘mental patient’. I didn’t care, it was cold and to top it all I wrapped a thick scarf around my neck and went out a walk with husband.
I was happy and then I bumped into a woman I know who is a dressmaker she was dressed for a cocktail party or a Sex and The City tribute night, I wasn’t sure which but she looked pale with the freezing wind biting her bare legs. She was with a dark haired hip bloke who was wearing a velvet jacket with nothing underneath and skinny scarf. He was chittering with the cold but looked very fashionable.
“Holy Fuck Janey you look like you are homeless dressed like that” the woman giggled. The skinny bloke’s frosty breathe pumped out as he guffawed at her comment.
“Really?” I sniped back “I am snug as a bug”
“Are you actually a homeless person?” the annoying bloke tried to see if the joke was worth repeating. I don’t know him, therefore it wasn’t funny and I wanted to kick his cold shrivelled balls.
The dressmaker laughed loudly and hugged him, throwing her arms up as if he just cracked the best joke in the world. Both of them fell about holding each other yelling their cocaine laughter louder as the cold air puffed from their gaping mouths.
The word vacuous never did fit a situation more than it did in this moment.
“Oh this is Tom, he is famous” the woman shouted at me as shouting is so in just now.
“Famous for what? Being a fuckwit?” I then laughed.
“No, he is famous for designing wallpaper” she nodded seriously.
He stared and waited for me to be amazed.
“Wasn’t that designed years ago?” I said.
“Yes, but he does amazing patterns on it” she added with a tone of seriousness usually reserved when announcing a Nobel Prize winner.
“Does he get a potato out and stamp on it?” I was now getting nippy and I knew it, I wasn’t letting the homeless jibe go.
“You should get Tessa to design a dress for you and you would look amazing, men would fall over you” he tried to get back to slagging me off.
“Actually I get laid a lot mate, yes even dressed like this, I get cock and you look like you do too, despite the shoddy 80’s velvet jacket, so thanks for the fashion tips, but I am happy in my woolly homeless gear”
I marched off.
Husband was standing looking in a shop window and missed the whole exchange.
“Do I look homeless to you?” I asked him.
“No, but that skinny hooker and the gay man looked drug fucked and freezing, did they say something to you?” he asked.
“Yes, they said I looked homeless” I spoke as pulled my scarf closer.
Husband pulled me closer and kissed my frozen cheeks “Janey, people are jealous because they know you are beautiful and talented, ignore them….though the hat is rather freaky, but you suit it, you are my wee freak”
We crunched through the frost happily, on the way back home we saw the skinny woman lifting up her designer dress and peeing behind a skip and the gay man screaming at her. Classy!_