Is Perky the new Glum?
John Pareles in The New York Times asks: is perky the new glum? He's talking about the South By South West Music Festival. One of the acts from the UK is called Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly. He (it's a one-man-band) plays right before our own Dappled Cities Fly. Perhaps they program by similarity of band name. All the optimistic band names together, and bands with optimistic names are bound to be perky.
Still, I've spent a large part of the weekend pounding footpaths with Pickle and perky seems to get you quite a long way when you're a dog. We sit outside a cafe on Glebe Point Road. I eat haloumi sandwiches and Pickle picks up passers by.
While Chris and Ray are in the Apple shop Pickle and I go for a look at Broadway Betty. I ask if it's OK to bring the dog into the shop. They say yes and would I like them to hold him while I check out the clothes? There's a perfect 60s cream frock with navy spots and a great collar. Pickle sticks his nose through the changing room curtain as I'm trying it on and then jumps up on me when I emerge. I've got no money so I leave the dog as collaterol, blag from Chris (thanks Chris) and the dress is mine. I'm imagining a wide purple sash around the hips and then I will be Renee Zellweger in Down With Love.
At dinner I sit between a criminal psychologist and a vet. The woman across the table talks about a boy she met at Barons. I ask the vet about Pickle's itch. It's been worse since Noonie's been away and clearly he's stressed and missing her I say. The vet looks at me straight and says that it's probably a flea allergy.
Then there's a general conversation about handbags. It reaches a lull and I fill it in with the story of waking to find a sausage roll in my yellow clutch. I've underestimated the audience and they're shocked. Afterwards, we head back to Newtown for martinis and I feel compelled to point out Crispy Inn as the probable source of said sausage roll, like we're on the tour of my life. Luckily, we're distracted by the hoards on the footpath outside Istanbul on King and the moment passes quickly.
Still, I've spent a large part of the weekend pounding footpaths with Pickle and perky seems to get you quite a long way when you're a dog. We sit outside a cafe on Glebe Point Road. I eat haloumi sandwiches and Pickle picks up passers by.
While Chris and Ray are in the Apple shop Pickle and I go for a look at Broadway Betty. I ask if it's OK to bring the dog into the shop. They say yes and would I like them to hold him while I check out the clothes? There's a perfect 60s cream frock with navy spots and a great collar. Pickle sticks his nose through the changing room curtain as I'm trying it on and then jumps up on me when I emerge. I've got no money so I leave the dog as collaterol, blag from Chris (thanks Chris) and the dress is mine. I'm imagining a wide purple sash around the hips and then I will be Renee Zellweger in Down With Love.
At dinner I sit between a criminal psychologist and a vet. The woman across the table talks about a boy she met at Barons. I ask the vet about Pickle's itch. It's been worse since Noonie's been away and clearly he's stressed and missing her I say. The vet looks at me straight and says that it's probably a flea allergy.
Then there's a general conversation about handbags. It reaches a lull and I fill it in with the story of waking to find a sausage roll in my yellow clutch. I've underestimated the audience and they're shocked. Afterwards, we head back to Newtown for martinis and I feel compelled to point out Crispy Inn as the probable source of said sausage roll, like we're on the tour of my life. Luckily, we're distracted by the hoards on the footpath outside Istanbul on King and the moment passes quickly.
posted by noonie at 7:46 PM
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