There Is An Art To Choosing When You're Drunk
Rarely did she resist the temptation to be extremely rude to shop assistants. It was her default mode of engagement. If anything, being confronted by a passive aggressive woman provoked Julia far more than any amount of male condescension. 'Mansplaining' was easily dealt with, you corrected very loudly and publicly humiliated him. That the strength of her reactions was mostly uncalled for, never crossed her mind. On this occasion, she'd been distracted by the allure coming off the folder of fabric designs, they were so temptingly......delectable.
Each design was an uber clever patternated repetition of eyes, coming in a variety of colour-ways, sourced from photos, paintings or carvings. There were open or closed eyes - celebrity eyes, surrealist eyes, eyes with macular degeneration, bloody eyes undergoing surgery, Turkish eyes, the eye of Horus, alchemical eyes, masonic eyes, stone cut eyes, the eyes of pigs, sheep or birds. Anything with bulbous bulging orbs from an ebony faced Spanish Madonna to Bette Davis and really mad looking dolls. An eclectic collection then.
She felt unexpectedly spoilt at being in receipt of so many quality designed fabrics. Turning to Ms Treadwell she spoke curtly, more by way of instruction than request.
'I'll be taking these home, and return them.... probably....whenever. Something here may do, but I need to consider at my leisure. If I do want one, how long until you'll have the fabric in?
' As its a new company for us, that can sometimes take up to a couple of weeks. Are you going to make them up yourself, or commission us to do that for you?
Julia had a brief flashback of herself sewing. All the painful previous attempts having been unmitigated disasters, reducing her to ripping up or burning the fabric ritually in an out door brazier. So she said:-
'Oh, God no, you can do all that'
A flick of the hand conveying the depth of her disdain for manual work. She turned exiting the shop with all the brisk she could summon. Glancing at the fabric folder gripped tightly in her lace gloved hands. One of these beauties.........may be - The One.
'This will certainly require a deep communion with Simone'
Accompanied by a glass of prosecco, or two. A quick nip to the off-licence. Essential.
By the time she reached home, the paper bag containing the four large bottles of La Marca was on the point of rupture. Having carefully clutched them to her breasts all the way back. Fumbling in the pockets of her scarlet culottes for the door key almost caused a major catastrophe. On bending down to rest the bottles and bag on the door step, the side gusset of the bag tore. Bottles tinkled out. One, bounced off the top step miraculously remaining intact. Had it not been for a nifty piece of footwork by Julia, effectively blocking any further forward rolling, a waterfall of prosecco froth would have cascaded down the front steps. Alerting every neighbour's 'twitch and tut' to the advanced state if her alcoholism.
Nerves rattled, a visibly strained Julia shuffled through her classically proportioned eighteenth century entrance hallway. Ungainly wobbling in the general direction of the front room. The bottles still cradled like new born puppies in constant peril. Once the fabric folder, held in her claw like grip, was released to the armchair, then the bottles could be safely deposited. Deftly arranged in a skittle formation on the rectangular solid block of glass that was her coffee table.
'Oh. Simone, I'm home, I need your advice my love, come on down please.'
Furniture roughly pushed aside. The hefty folder opened. Contents fanned across the carpet. The A4 samples failed to show them off to their best. More fertile imaginative skills would be required.
'Simone dear, hurry up, I need some advice from my oracle and goddess'
Stomping around the marble floor in her retro platforms. She frustratedly riffled in the sideboard cupboard. The 'champerz' glasses were in there somewhere. Having excavated two, she put them on the blood red mantelpiece. These would be the lure, the invitation for 'a divine visitation'. Julia enjoyed elaborating rituals to lead up to role playing, in this case it was - let's pretend we have a friend at home. All part of the 'mise en scene' whenever major aesthetic decisions were to take place. Her 'aesthetic consultant' she'd named Simone, long ago forgetting why, or who. Was it Nina? De Beaviour? Did she care? No!
Open a bottle, fill the glass to the brim, knock it back as though it were tonic water. Then another and another in rapid succession. Once she was actually fully in the vicinity of rat arsed, only then could she begin channelling Simone. A deeper husky voice emerging from her freshly slackened larynx.
'So, what do you want my sweet sweet bitch?'
The character of Simone had developed over time, till now she was this larger than life, spirited being, unashamedly speaking truth to Julia's stern dominatrix. The persona somewhat resembled a drag version of Julia. Instability in the vocal delivery department, meant it veered back and forth between Danny La Rue and Mama Ru.
' Hello Simone. Well, what do you think of these? Funky eh?
'Great visually. Quite powerful. These could dominate your life, let alone a room. Don't mess with these babies, leave them well alone, hun'
'You're sounding a bit freaked my dearest doom eyed one. Aren't you just a little taken with this one, the iridescent teal, it would zing next to the yellow cabinet. Not sure whose eye it is. A zombie Mother Theresa? It follows you around the room like a predator...or maybe thats the prozzo ?'
'Those eyes remind me of Damian le Ronde, that wallpaper designer you had the randy hots for a while back. Leary, far too willing to cross personal boundaries. Basically eyes, hands, everywhere. Didn't understand no'
'How could I have ever lived with that. Those eyes soooo penetrating .......undressing you. Such a mean stare ......as if jealously scanning you for illegal substances at Gatwick. He was a close call you saved me from, my love'
'Thank you....so maybe consider this rouge red one, the heavy bagged bloodshot eyes..... dramatic.......Argento....ish. Art shlock, its a current sub trend, so I hear'
' Is that what it is? I don't know.....Goth.... its a bit prepubescent teenager... for contrived Instagram depressives only. I prefer graphic expressionistic splodges, wildly thrown dots and dashes..... Oh, what about this one, as a comprise?'
Julia held up a sheet that looked velvety, with dappled sour yellows and blue veined purples. Slarts of filigree gold, glinted calligraphically in rough suggestion of an eye, surrounded by the cosmic swirl of a deeply bruised eye socket. The after effect of being hit by a fist. Now woozy and unsteady on her feet, Julia started to prance and circle intensively round and round, dervish like. Until she wanted, and then did vomit. Bar the purple one in her hand, none of the other fabric samples remained untouched. Upon falling into a nearby armchair, she muttered:
'Well, I think that's the selection process finished. We've decided Simone. Its this one. Whatever it's called'
Julia peered at the label with one eye closed, as if that would sharpen her drunken focus. No 679 - Malevolent Punch
'You can do better than that. Julia, pu..leese, don't be this trivial'
'I've puked, what more do you want?
Curtains My Dear, Curtains
EPISODE 3 - The Way Of Ordering Gets A Bit Tricky
Will be posted Friday 21st January 2022
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