When you have a habit, like me, of dressing in a certain way (even if it is for a short period of time) people will usually have something to tell you, particularly if you live in a place such as Costa Rica, where everybody is absolutely convinced that the world has right to have a piece of their minds. While on Monday nobody said anything to me (black jeans, spaghetti strap top and blazer), yestarday and today it has been different. 
Yesterday I paraded around with my long black skirt, another spaghetti strap top (I have like three or four of them, so don't be surprised), hair in a bun and a bead choker (currently that ead choker is my only full-black necklace). I was pretty sure I looked scary, and was so happy when walked past some workers and though they looked at me (as usual) none of them dared to utter a work (which they usually do). This made me feel tremendously comfortable, for I wasn't looking "sexy black", but "Morticia Addams black". Well, not exactly. What I thought looked like a gothic omen, many thought looked "so elegant and stylish". Yes, people have a very strange idea of what elegant is... or I'm very out of touch with reality.
My friend Víctor, with whom I had lunch yesterday, mentioned that I was looking very elegant. So did his cousin, a hairdresser. Laughing, I told Vic he could borrow my clothes the next time he needs to go to a drag-party. My coworkers kept asking me where was I going, with whom was the hot "date". Smiling I explained each time that "oh, you know, it's June, and these are the black clothes I own...". That seemed to make work the needed charm. There was, however, a compliment that surprised me and remained with me.
In the morning I was going to the corner store. A huge black dude was coming in the other direction, and his eyes seemed captured by me. I had my sunglasses on so he couldn't tell if I was noticing his attention or not. There's a somekind of company around that hires only English speaking people, and he looked much like this imported Americans. As he came closer to me, he couldn't but slid his eyes down my frame and comment with true conviction:
"You look good in black!"
I turned my head to him, smiled and thanked his compliment. It made me smile also, the subtle implication, whether he noticed it or not that I look good in black. Where I single and not mourning, I may have added that I look even better on black.
Today I put on black slacks and a goth blouse that has sheer, wide sleeves. I like this blouse, and I was thinking about weaking them with my skirt, but that would have been very, very gothic, and that wasn't the point. I curled my hair into big, thick victorian locks, which have straightened by now, but at least for a few hours I looked like a veritable victorian porcelain doll. Again the comments came. "Why so elegant?" "Another hot date?" "What's with the doll locks?" "Where are you going today?"
I guess many people simply attach the idea of elegance to black, regardless of anything. It's however, tremendously funny to realize just how curious and inquiring people can be. Well, at least Costa Ricans. It's like a whole country full of nosy people: everybody has to know about everybody's business. A 4 million people village.
Yesterday I paraded around with my long black skirt, another spaghetti strap top (I have like three or four of them, so don't be surprised), hair in a bun and a bead choker (currently that ead choker is my only full-black necklace). I was pretty sure I looked scary, and was so happy when walked past some workers and though they looked at me (as usual) none of them dared to utter a work (which they usually do). This made me feel tremendously comfortable, for I wasn't looking "sexy black", but "Morticia Addams black". Well, not exactly. What I thought looked like a gothic omen, many thought looked "so elegant and stylish". Yes, people have a very strange idea of what elegant is... or I'm very out of touch with reality.My friend Víctor, with whom I had lunch yesterday, mentioned that I was looking very elegant. So did his cousin, a hairdresser. Laughing, I told Vic he could borrow my clothes the next time he needs to go to a drag-party. My coworkers kept asking me where was I going, with whom was the hot "date". Smiling I explained each time that "oh, you know, it's June, and these are the black clothes I own...". That seemed to make work the needed charm. There was, however, a compliment that surprised me and remained with me.
In the morning I was going to the corner store. A huge black dude was coming in the other direction, and his eyes seemed captured by me. I had my sunglasses on so he couldn't tell if I was noticing his attention or not. There's a somekind of company around that hires only English speaking people, and he looked much like this imported Americans. As he came closer to me, he couldn't but slid his eyes down my frame and comment with true conviction:
"You look good in black!"
I turned my head to him, smiled and thanked his compliment. It made me smile also, the subtle implication, whether he noticed it or not that I look good in black. Where I single and not mourning, I may have added that I look even better on black.
Today I put on black slacks and a goth blouse that has sheer, wide sleeves. I like this blouse, and I was thinking about weaking them with my skirt, but that would have been very, very gothic, and that wasn't the point. I curled my hair into big, thick victorian locks, which have straightened by now, but at least for a few hours I looked like a veritable victorian porcelain doll. Again the comments came. "Why so elegant?" "Another hot date?" "What's with the doll locks?" "Where are you going today?"
I guess many people simply attach the idea of elegance to black, regardless of anything. It's however, tremendously funny to realize just how curious and inquiring people can be. Well, at least Costa Ricans. It's like a whole country full of nosy people: everybody has to know about everybody's business. A 4 million people village.
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