The model at the mirror
I went to the opera last night. At the Met. It was the first warm night in the city, after a lot of snow and a lot more of that whole gray-slush-and-garbage-bags-piled-as-high-as-your-head thing. The fountain at Lincoln Center was underperforming. I was telling Soo-Jin, the friend I was seeing the opera with, that it was about to shoot up like ninety feet in the air. And then it kept not doing that. And I kept being like, “No, really. It does that. All the time. I’ve seen it . I filmed it on my phone…Wait. OK, that was my old phone. But I’m not lying.”
We stood on the balcony during the first intermission and talked about the outfits of the people below us. Some of them were really great. We especially liked the elderly women who wear these enormous fur coats to the opera. They seem so classic. Like they’ve always been there, doing that.
(One of my absolute favorites of Klimt’s pieces. source)
The Met is worth going to, even if you don’t want to spend a startling amount of money on an opera ticket that gets you a very, very high seat. Just walk into the building. The red of the walls bleeds onto the gold of the ceiling. It’s gold like in Klimt’s paintings. That real gold gold. It looks brushstroked. The chandeliers are prickly diamond barbs. Marc Chagall did some truly enormous paintings for the lobby.
(This piece is not in the Met’s lobby. But it’s beautiful and by Chagall. source)
But one of my favorite moments of the evening happened in the bathroom. It was a very selfish moment. Soo-Jin and I went in together, because we’re girls. There was a space of maybe half a minute while I was waiting for her, standing in front of the long, lit mirror, poking at my hair. And this model came in. Which happens in Manhattan, especially during and around fashion week. But it’s always surprising, anyway, because, well, she was sudden and gorgeous and 6’2″ and wearing a very tiny black dress. Her hair was sleek and long and fell in one piece down her back. Her cheekbones were very present. She materialized next to me by the mirror, stared deeply at her reflection, and then spun on her sexy designer heel and exited, her hair flipping up.
So there was this moment, just a split second, when she and I were standing side by side at the mirror. This model and me. She was towering beautifully over me, and I knew intuitively that I looked twenty times more like I had just stumbled out of the shtetl by comparison. But as this was happening, I somehow wasn’t able to compare. I was just being me, next to another woman, who was just being her. I could see how someone might, say, fall in love with either one of us. Or want to be our friend. Personally, I was leaning towards the girl with the short hair. Because she looked like she had a lot she might want to say about the world.
Soo-Jin came out and the model was gone. “I love your hair,” she said. “Are you ever gonna grow it back?”
“Nope,” I said without hesitation. “Never.”
* * *
Un-roast: Today I love the way I feel when the weather starts to change. Like I’m full of possibility.
I’m crossposting with OMSH today. If you read Pioneer Woman, she’s the one writing about homeschooling over there a lot of the time. She has her own blog as well, of course, and I’m on it today, talking about being a very pretty little girl. She’s on Un-schooled talking about homeschooling her own three kids. They seem to be turning out pretty great.
Kate on February 18th 2011 in Uncategorized
monika hardy responded on 18 Feb 2011 at 12:49 pm #
i always feel like i’m right there with you watching these events happen.
they always make me cry. just a bit.
most always from deepness rather than sadness.
Wei-Wei responded on 18 Feb 2011 at 12:51 pm #
Maybe the model looked at you and wished that she could be you, instead. I mean… short hair IS pretty awesome. It’s also pretty awesome to be an awesome person with an awesome personality… which I’m sure she does have.
Everyone’s awesome! And to each their own. This comment makes no sense.
LIT responded on 18 Feb 2011 at 2:38 pm #
When I read your blog, I know that if I lived anywhere near NYC- I would want to be your friend. You’re fantastic!
Christin@purplebirdblog responded on 18 Feb 2011 at 5:09 pm #
That Chagall you posted is just gorgeous. And so is your face.
Liz Nord responded on 18 Feb 2011 at 8:22 pm #
Why can’t it be that way for all of us always? We are all uniquely beautiful. =)
Meri responded on 18 Feb 2011 at 11:23 pm #
You are such a beautiful writer. I get excited when I see your blog updates in my google reader because I so enjoy reading how you write.
Also, you have such a healthy and honest perspective that is so refreshing.
Delightful! Keep it up 🙂
AlisonM responded on 19 Feb 2011 at 3:02 am #
When I first had my heart broken, at 17, I cut off all my hair into a pixie cut. I’ve been thinking about it again recently, and every time I read about you having cut yours, I want to do it more and more. I love the new confidence it seems to have given you. If confidence is the word..
I also love Soo-Jin 🙂
Mandy responded on 19 Feb 2011 at 12:12 pm #
@Kate:
Stepping back and looking at someone else, and being able to admire them without wanting to BE them, or be like them is a gift. It’s an absolutely wonderful feeling, and I’m glad you experienced it firsthand.
Unroast: I love that after I get dressed and fix my hair in the morning, I can go the rest of the day without worrying about how I look.
Melissa Anderson responded on 19 Feb 2011 at 1:16 pm #
I really love this post, so beautiful. I love the self-confidence and just ‘okay-ness’ that comes through, and the beauty found in seeing our own gifts and loveliness.
Mandy responded on 19 Feb 2011 at 4:47 pm #
I agree with monika hardy’s comment whole-heartedly
Mandy responded on 19 Feb 2011 at 6:22 pm #
Mandy@
Okay, there are two Mandys commenting here. How are we going to fix this so no one gets confused?
Suggestions?
Suzanne responded on 19 Feb 2011 at 6:59 pm #
i wish i could feel like you do. but whenever there is any other woman (especially if they are thin/since i’m not) i feel like dirt. ugly and unworthy. thanks for sharing your positive attitude.
CJ responded on 20 Feb 2011 at 8:55 am #
I LOVE that moment when you see someone who fits into the perfect mold of beauty, and you DO find them beautiful but instead of being jealous or catty, you just see them as another human being.
I was always on the catty or jealous end of the spectrum until I actually got to be friends with a former professional model. She turns heads absolutely everywhere she goes, constantly, and she doesn’t have to work at it at all. Strangers talk to her, and I get the feeling it’s just so they have an excuse to keep looking. But she’s just another person– she’s no more or less interesting or smart or engaging than I am. And that used to make me pretty jealous of her, because did I mention that she does not work on it AT ALL?
But the more I’ve gotten to know her, the more she’s just another person, leading another life, that isn’t me– without any of the value judgments behind it. And, somehow, having that happen in my head for someone that far on the end of the beauty spectrum has freed me up to do it for everyone.
Everyone is beautiful, everyone is interesting and strange and worth comment.
Deanna responded on 20 Feb 2011 at 10:50 am #
@CJ. good for you. I’m more like Suzanne in that when I see a stunning woman who everyone notices it makes me feel unattractive. It’s like e eery flaw on my face and body is magnified by 1000.
I am less this way than I was when I was young, but I can’t lie and say I don’t feel envy when next to a gorgeous woman. I remember once talking to a man while I was taking a walk with my baby. We were having an intelligent conversation when this gorgeous woman walked into his shop. It was like I disappeared and no longer existed. I tiik the stroller and walked out…I doubt he noticed. Trust me, if I can remember that moment from 18 years ago, you know it hurt.
I honestly think most women feel insecure when faced with this situation. We learn to accept it but I think it always bothers us.
Christine responded on 20 Feb 2011 at 8:20 pm #
What a fabulous moment for you. I love that it happened at the opera (I’m a classical singer by trade), and the Met is amazing. Sometimes confidence, and loving yourself, come in swift, crazy, spontaneous waves, and sometimes in shy realizations next to a model in a bathroom. Great post.
Tempest responded on 21 Feb 2011 at 11:53 am #
All I have in my head is the scene in “Moonstruck” where Cher goes to the Met – and she and her father’s mistress Mona are looking the mirror at the same time.
I love that movie 🙂
Holly responded on 21 Feb 2011 at 12:01 pm #
love this post
Kate responded on 21 Feb 2011 at 12:03 pm #
@Tempest
Great movie. Actually, I think she was seeing the same opera as me!
oonaballoona responded on 01 Mar 2011 at 7:23 pm #
i just came over from yes&yes, right after writing my own post about ruggy & me going to the met. and, i’m instantly in love with you & your blog.
Eat the Damn Cake » The truth about mirrors responded on 17 Jun 2011 at 2:46 pm #
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