Simplicity by Sunny

A week after I moved to Denver, I secured my first date in my new hometown.  I can’t claim charm or good looks for my colorful dating life during the winter of 2007 (well, perhaps a smidge of charm because I can be irresistible upon occasion), it’s because being new in town is an excellent ice breaker.  Sometimes when my dating life is a little slower than I wish it to be, I pretend to be lost and ask a handsome stranger for directions.  Sometimes I’m left alone on the street corner, other times I find myself, moments later, with a pint of beer in hand, sitting next to a tall, dark Denverite ever so willing to teach me about major intersections (that I already know well) and wax poetic on the city.

I believe in subterfuge when it’s delivered in the right spirit.

Anyway, my first date in Denver was at Mercury Cafe on the outskirts of downtown.  It’s a liberal gathering place for hippies, goths, and everything between.  I didn’t know this yet.

Finding a parking spot that night proved difficult, especially since parallel parking terrified me back then.  (For the record, I can now throw Eddie into any spot in six seconds or less.)  So, I decided to park in a lot several blocks from the restaurant.  Small town girl I was, the fact that the lot sat empty didn’t cause suspicion.  And, as dusk had only begun, nothing looked frightening.  Truthfully, I was too preoccupied with my lip gloss to take notice of something as unimportant as safety.

Six blocks up, lips perfectly pink, I entered Mercury Cafe.  Where dreadlocks greeted me at the door.

“Wow,” I said with awe.  “Your hair is gorgeous.”

She shook the dreads with pride.  “Wish my mom agreed with you, but yeah, I love ‘em.”

“I’ve never seen dreadlocks in real life before,” I confessed.

That night, as I sat waiting for my date, I saw many interesting things in real life for the first time.  Devil tattoos.  Ear plugs.  Hooks pierced into noses.  Homemade dresses constructed of chains and feathers.  Men wearing eyeliner.  Women in muscle tees. Mercury Cafe is like a breathing museum of subculture.

I saw, for the first time, beauty in the unconventional.  Beauty in the unselfconscious reflection of individuality on skin and in fabric.  Everyone there moved comfortably, too, hips swaying fluidly, shoulders back, knees unlocked.

When my date arrived, I was disappointed that my people watching had to end.

The date proved itself uncomfortable, though I’ll always remember my salmon with dill sauce, spiced chai, and lemon meringue.  Yum.  As frustrating as bad dates can be, there’s usually delicious food involved, and I’m always thankful for this.

Dinner and awkward conversation complete, we exited Mercury.  “Where did you park?” He asked.

I hooked a thumb left.  “Over there.”

“Well, I’m over here,” and he gestured the opposite direction.  “Nice meetin’ ya.”

“Yeah,” I agreed half-heartedly as we walked backwards away from each other.

I turned on my heel, already visualizing my pajamas and Chunky Money. “Hope I have a clean spoon,” I said to myself. A bowl would be unnecessary.

A block down, while fantasizing about a man named Ben, and another man named Jerry, I realized the sidewalk had turned exceptionally dark.  I looked up.  The street lights had been busted.  I looked down.  Shards of glass, from the bulbs that once were, sparkled on the concrete.  My steps, suddenly cautious, echoed against the brick buildings on either side of the street.  Buildings that – uh oh – had their windows barred.  My only company, as I gulped down a sudden rush of fear, was heavy shadows.

I swore to never wear lip gloss again.    

I squeezed my clutch tightly beneath my arm.  Straightened my shoulders.  Forced myself to keep walking.

But when two men rounded the corner, gaining on me quickly, I froze.  Trouble vibrated around them.  The tall, bulky one wore a knit cap to top off a leather jacket.  The shorter one hunched beneath a hooded sweatshirt.  Hood up. 

I knew that Chunky Monkey would never again touch my lips.  I was a goner.  Life lost.  Surely, they were my killers.  ‘Cause they looked like killers.

They circled me, eyes digesting every inch.

I began listing my life’s regrets.  I should’ve eaten more ice cream.  And a LOT more French fries.  I should’ve never tried running last summer – such meaningless torture that was.  Despite my regrets, I was relieved to be wearing my favorite dress.  At least I’d die in something silky.

The tall one spoke first.  “What’s we find here, hm?”

“We gots us a giiirlie-girl.” 

As close as they were, I saw the city streets – grit and oil – smeared on their faces.  They were tough, and it showed.  I was terrified, and that showed, too.

“You’s about ready to piss yohrself,” The shorter one said.

Yeah, I kinda was.

Then, the taller one leaned down close.  I inhaled a quick breath, smelling the liquor from his mouth.  He leaned closer still…and kissed me gently on my cheek.

Then he chuckled.  A deep, friendly, low gut laugh.  He punched his shorter comrade in the shoulder, getting his attention.  Then he started snapping his fingers.  The shorter one snapped, too.  And, together, they – to my shock – began singing.  To me.  An impromptu blues number about a blonde girl crossing the wrong tracks.

Their voices, unrestrained, bounced against the hallowed buildings and the empty street.  The sound of them, melodic and unexpected, forced my held breath to release.  Was this really happening? 

The shorter one pushed his hood back, revealing a face younger than I expected, and clasped my hand.  He twirled me ’round.  I dropped the clutch from beneath my arm, but barely noticed.  Because, while spinning to an acapella song being sung just for me, I was mesmerized. My tension shook itself free on the third twirl. 

They finished.  I grinned. 

The tall one picked up my discarded clutch.  “Now, what in the heehl are you doin’ down hehr?”

I told them about my parking space.  They ushered me safely back to the lot, all the while lecturing me about making better parking decisions.  A lecture I’ve never forgotten.

Driving home that night, I pictured the cafe.  The piercings and tattoos, the easy strides and comfortably worn skin.  Felt, again, that kiss to my cheek.  Beauty, I decided, could be an unexpected experience.  Like the sound of blues on the street, music meant to ease a girl’s fear.  Beauty, I decided, could be found – not exclusively in what is – but in how it’s presented.  Like mohawks worn without apology.

Yeah, to be yourself, whatever that means.  To accept yourself and everyone else. Even if unconventional or unexpected.  Without apology.  That’s ridiculously beautiful.

Suddenly I felt beautiful, too.  Lip gloss unnecessary.

Exciting news!  Simplicity by Sunny now has its own home.  I mean, domain.  ‘Bout time, I say.  Links should automatically redirect, but I wanted to let everyone know.

I knew from an early age that I’d wind up in Colorado.  My mom used to say, “Sunny, you’re going to wind up in Boulder one day, with all the other Crunchies.”  Since my mom was a hippie, she said this with a note of pride.  I don’t live quite as far north as Boulder, but pretty darn close.

Before I’d reached adulthood, I’d already taken it upon myself to save the world.  Single-handedly, if necessary.  I adopted two whales and a dolphin through the World Wildlife Foundation.  I volunteered for a Humane Shelter every weekend.  I went through all of our neighbor’s trash, crushing bottles to save unsuspecting birds.  I recycled before it was popular (my mom wasn’t thrilled about driving to the recycling facility, located in the middle of nowhere, and it was during these trips that she did not appreciate my “crunchiness”).  I hauled around canvas bags when we went grocery shopping.  I volunteered to pick up garbage along the highway, despite the fact that orange is not my color (my dad was convinced this would lead to a life of crime, since this is the job description of most state prisoners).  I ate granola.  And, at age 5, I wore my first pair of Birkenstocks. 

Today, I’m still a Granola Girl.  I love doing what I can to make a difference.  And it’s fun!  Reusable shopping bags are so cute these days.  Patagonia makes superior hiking gear made from recycled plastic bottles.  Environmentally friendly items are darn fashionable.  Even Birkenstocks have come a long way, adding bling to their ergonomically designed sandals.

I like reading up on the topic of world-saving, and recently came across the book The Lazy Environmentalist on a Budget by Josh Dorfman.  The title had me immediately!  I’m both lazy AND budget-conscious.  After reading Mr. Dorfman’s book, I wanted to share my favorite tips.

1.  Irent2u.com - Instead of buying items that you’ll only use once, you can join this online community – called “The Online Rental Marketplace” – and rent anything you can imagine, instead.  Everything from handbags, vacation homes, jewelry, boats, planes….well, you get the idea.

2.  You can now recycle your Brita filters!  They’re accepted at most Whole Foods stores. 

3.  Denim Therapy - Here you can send in your favorite pair of jeans – no matter how shabby their condition – and get them fixed like new.  The company dyes thread to match your jeans EXACTLY as they are.  No patch-like marks.  The cost is $7/inch.  The before and after pictures are pretty amazing.

4.  Swapstyle.com - This is like the largest best-friend closet in the world, where you swap clothes for free!  There are currently over 45,000 members.  

5.  Greenphone.com  - Not only will this comany take your old cell phone, they PAY YOU for it.  Free shipping, even.  As often as we trade in our cell phones (unless you’re me, with the 4-year old Samsung), this could be a great resource.

6.  Goloco.org -   Here is a new (and totally cool) take on the modern carpool.  You share vehicles and trips.  You pay for the cost BEFORE you even get into the car, so there’s no argument about who’s gonna pay for the gas.  Here’s how GoLoco describes itself:

GoLoco is a service that lets friends, neighbors, and co-workers arrange rides together. It helps match someone going somewhere with a car (commonly known as the “driver”) with someone else who wants to go somewhere (commonly known as the “passenger”). Each passenger agrees to pay the driver for their fair share of the costs of the trip.

7.  Zinio.com - Love to read?  Zinio provides digital formats of magazines and books - a huge selection – and sends it to any digital device.  Including the iPhone.

I was having trouble this morning with my last two posts.  They weren’t showing up properly, for reasons I’m unsure of.  While monkeying around to fix the problem, I lost someone’s comment in the process – I’m so sorry .  Think the kink’s worked out now, however.

Is it a bird?  A plane?  Nope, it’s Apartment Therapy’s Small, Cool Contest.  Does anyone else get excited about this like I do?  I eagerly await pictures from new contestants (and was especially excited to see the first Denver submission, a sleek loft located in LoDo).  The contest features 5 different “small home” categories: teeny-tiny, tiny, little, small, and international.  Whoever decorates their space best – based on how readers vote – wins the contest. 

My favorites are the teeny-tiny shoeboxes (usually located in Brooklyn) where the square footage is below 400 square feet.  I’m starting to wonder if I’m destined for a life in New York, if only for its adorable little flats.  If you enjoy voyeurism, you’ve gotta check this out.  And if you enjoy interior design, even better!

Apartment Therapy - Proof that small can be groovy.