Day 81, Be Brave Project; Fox News

Century 21 shopping was the same as always; I felt a little tired & bored walking in, I wandered around and around those damn escalators that are never never in the direction one wants to be going--and then next thing I know it's 150 minutes later, I have two shopping bags cutting strips into my wrists, and I am emerging from the store in a daze of hostile joy.

I bought:

9 v. large Godiva dark chocolate bars

3 silver picture frames (2 still in the box)

2 wooden puzzle sets for children

1 Lily Pulitzer pink & red child's blouse

1 Columbia nono-tac camping mini flashlight

1 FDNY child's knit hat

1 pair Laura Ashley bedsocks

1 box christmas cards for doorman gifts

and. . .

They must pump some drug made from the bones of cremated chorus girls into that store. . .

because. . .

I bought a fox fur neck wrap, for me.

My Dear God. I have never wanted a fox fur neck wrap. I have never noticed them on the street, or priced them on the internet. On the rare times I have had occasion to look at a fox (when I lived in Richmond, SW London, they used to congregate on my street at night--poor leggy oily sad things), I never thought --Oooer, peel that garbage-eating bad boy and I'll look fabulous.

It just happened, the way car wrecks do or Angelina Jolie obtains another child: In the blink of an ill-judged eye. I simply rounded the corner, all hopped up on Godiva chocolate and the free tote bag I'd just been given--it says Century 21, Where You Have to FIGHT for Fashion--and there was a sign saying "Fur Head Wraps".

Hmm. I thought.

Hmm. Wonder what that'd look like on me. I'm sick of always suffering from Celtic Scrawny Neck (a hereditary trait wherein one feels the cold in that particular fatless body part). I put down my two bags, my handbag, my chocolate bar, and my diet coke hidden in the pocket of my handbag. That alone felt very, very good.

Then I grabbed one of the velcro tipped, long pale grey fur pieces and wrapped it around my neck, once. The tips fit together in a discreet V at my breast, and the fur was so lovely and warm--how they get the fox stench out I don't know--and the effect so elegant that I paused.

I felt the heat of an impulse buy coming on. But $90??? I am so cheap that I eat vegetarian most of the time simply because it's one of the most inexpensive ways to be healthy. I am so cheap that I make cookies instead of bread because baking soda is cheaper than baking powder.

I wrapped the piece around my head, as it was intended to be. It looked enchanting. My eyes looked very brown and big, the fur felt very soft and warm. And, here is the danger knell. . .I could always buy it and decide later. Because I could always return it, next visit. . .

Oh crap. Oh dear. That is rarely a good and wise voice. Fur is a horribly cruel business, and I have an animal I love who has a coat as thick as this--imagine her dead and peeled. Horrible. Horrible. Just so some scrawny-necked discount shopper can have fun on her chocolate high.

I bought it, and shall return it.

After a trip to Bo-Ky on Bayard Street for a large bowl of $3.75 WonTon Soup, I walked up Canal Street and caught the C train home--very nice, very direct. Had enjoyed a long chat with my mother on the phone the day before, so decided to call her again. She was drunk, at 4.30 in the afternoon her time. I got off the phone, felt depressed, wrapped my horrible cruel fur collar around my neck, and did a crossword.

But I kept the price tags on.

BBP: Still haven't heard from the Doctor. Today am going to library for work on outline.