[img]396|left|Alex Campbell||no_popup[/img] Do you like people watching? Do you have an hour to spare? If so, come on down to the Boylston Street Starbucks in Boston, Massachusetts. You’re guaranteed a great show, all for the price of a Venti whatever and a delicious pastry!
This Starbucks is like a giant living room. When you walk in, there’s a substantial wooden dining room table that seats eight (currently seated are five men, two with computers). Across from that, (where I’m sitting as I write this), is a leather loveseat, worn soft and cushy from years of use. Next to me is a man in his late twenties who is reading Xeroxed papers, highlighter at the ready.
There are two small tables at the window behind the dining room table, and a large round table to the left of the loveseat, also at the window. There’s a small section that has an oriental rug on the floor and two mismatched chairs on top of it. Across from that are the mates of the two armchairs. The rest of the place is long and narrow, filled with about twenty small, round tables. Most of these tables are occupied by a lone worker and a laptop.
It took me years to get used to the people with computers at Starbucks. I thought, “Whatever happened to sitting down with a cup of coffee and having a conversation?” I get it now. It’s a way of life; you can sit here for hours and do your work (or get distracted by all the people, like I do).
My, How Creatively They Dress
Oh, the people. The people! It’s a diverse crowd, from all walks of life; students to middle-aged professionals, foreigners to people who live around the block. I like to watch them come in and make up stories about them.
Here comes the college professor. She’s dressed all in black and gray; gray cotton skirt, black cotton tights, black sporty Mary Janes, black shirt, gray cardigan. It’s too dowdy. All she needs is a quick makeover, because she’s actually very cute. Change out the shoes and get rid of the tights, and add a touch of color to this outfit! Just give me five minutes, Prof. Dowdy.
Here’s a man who almost has the preppy trust fund look, but not quite. He has more money than most of us, but still shops at Target to get those bargains. His shoes are a dead giveaway. Right behind him is a man who is the real deal. Crisp khaki shorts, salmon colored polo, very expensive sunglasses, and man sandals. Stopping in for a quick latte before he goes sailing.
And who, pray tell, is this? This woman is not real. She’s in her forties, very tall, way too tan, and she’s wearing a…dress? Well, it’s a piece of fabric that just covers her rear. It looks fashionable because she has a wide belt draped around her middle. She’s wearing too-high wedge sandals, but amazingly, she can walk in them. Maybe they’re shooting The Real Housewives of Boston. Following her is a man who is very put together, but not over the top. He can’t believe that he scored a date with her.
They sit down in the armchairs and begin talking. At first, it’s just light conversation, but then she starts name-dropping and telling him about these fancy events she’s been to. She mentions her husband. Hmm, are they divorced? What exactly is the relationship between the woman and the man she’s with now? Client? Friend? First date? I don’t dwell on it because I suddenly feel compelled to talk to the man who is sharing my seating space.
Notice My Tattoos?
He’s good-looking, clean cut, wearing a brown polo shirt and jeans. He doesn’t have a laptop with him; he’s highlighting important points from his reading. I say, “It’s so hard to work here.” “Work here?” He replies. I’m tongue-tied. “I mean, to do work here. There are so many people to look at; it’s distracting.” I laugh weakly. He smiles thinly and continues his work. I want to say to him, “I’m a cougar. Do you know what that means? I want to pounce on you. Grrr!” For once, the Filter Gods are smiling down upon me, and I manage to keep quiet and keep my hands to myself.
There’s a man who looks like Dog the Bounty Hunter. Dude, that look went out in 1988! He’s got to be an actor; maybe he’s on a break. I hope. One thing I’m realizing as I’m sitting here is that flip-flops should be limited to the poolside or beach only. No one looks good in flip-flops, and yet so many people wear them. The latest thing is for women to wear cheap looking flip-flops with a nice outfit. They totally ruin the look, but no one seems to care.
Ah, well, my time here is coming to an end. The pictures I was waiting for at the photo shop should be ready by now. My seatmate gets up without saying goodbye. I down the rest of my tea, pack my bag, and leave. I wonder if anyone is writing about my outfit. I make sure my tattoos on my forearm are showing, just in case.
Ms. Campbell may be contacted at campbellalexandra@hotmail.com
