In an episode of “Absolutely Fabulous,” Edina and Patsy go to New York. “Shopping, Eddie!” Patsy growls. “I'm going to do some real shopping!”
“Shopping for what?” Edina asks.
“Just – things!” Patsy replies. “Little gorgeous things!”
I recently bought an e-reader. You cannot read an e-reader in the dark, so you need a booklight. I bought a purple one, with a big garish psychedelic peace sign on it.
It is a little gorgeous thing.
Last summer, my friend Sylvia presented me with a birthday gift, which she'd bought at a RISD yard sale: a little flipbook of Chuck Close's face. “I knew when I saw this,” she said, “that you'd get a kick out of it.”
She knows I like little gorgeous things.
Apollonia, my office nemesis, has the Gorgeous Things virus too. She is the only person I know who owns a miniature vase pinned to her lapel, in which she keeps fresh flowers! I ask you! (This is not, by the way, a tussy-mussy. A tussy-mussy is something quite different. Please do not confuse this with a tussy-mussy.)
Partner gave me, several years ago, two matching rings: one with a ruby (my birthstone) set in white diamonds and yellow gold; the other with a beautiful black diamond identically set with white diamonds and white gold. The carbonado diamond was getting dangerously loose, so I took it to my favorite jeweler in Providence last, a tall handsome jovial man in a tiny downtown shop. He prodded the diamond with interest. “What stone is this?”
“Diamond,” I said. “Black diamond.”
I saw a little quiver go through him. And I knew what it meant: he wanted my black diamond.
I left it with him for repair.
I'd better get it back.
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