Saturday I was on a mission to find new fabric for the dining room chairs. I got in the car, turned down the back windows for Gingy, and tuned to some jazz station. On my way to Denver Fabrics, I past a sign on Broadway reading "Fabric Sale 50% off". It was just the sign I was looking for, aka youaspeakamykindaspeak.
A lady was leaving as I entered the store. I took the stairs in front of me and found my way up into the fabric zone. As always, it was a little overwhelming and exciting. The colors and textures are so fun to peruse. I was wondering around when I heard a downstairs voice ask if someone was upstairs. In the sea of fabric, I didn’t respond; but then again the voice wasn’t asking me. I heard foot steps and a guy appeared.
He was dark-haired, olive-skinned Jersey. I liked that. He was the kind of guy I used to have a major crush on, though in this situation I was willing to put my money on the fact that he was probably gay (not to mention I am married). He asked what I was looking for and I told him I wanted to recover my kitchen table chairs with something funky and cool. He asked if I had a color in mind. I said I liked orange. I followed his lead and he took me directly to a fabric that was orange with some hints of pink. It had silvery white flourishes on top and had that durable coating suitable for table chairs. It really was a perfect hit and I said I would take it. He went downstairs to get some scissors and when he came back up, he asked if I was still with him? I said yes. He said, “Good. I’m glad someone has the balls to use this fabric.” I said, “Well, I guess I have the balls.”
We went over to the cutting table and he measured out three yards, giving it to me for the price of two because of a seam in the measurement. I thought about how I probably should not be spending money to change my chairs but also how funky and cool it would look AND how I was the only woman in this world with the balls to pull it off. He made the cut and folded it up. Always the commitment-phobe, a little buyers remorse snuck in right when the weight of the fabric was placed in my hands. I followed him to the stairs looking at the fabric wondering if I mistook funky for possibly offensive or old lady? I thought about coming home and D hating it, even though we both loved orange. He caught my non-verbal consideration and said to me, “He’ll love it.” At that point I knew he was gay ... and my crush grew three sizes that day.
A lady was leaving as I entered the store. I took the stairs in front of me and found my way up into the fabric zone. As always, it was a little overwhelming and exciting. The colors and textures are so fun to peruse. I was wondering around when I heard a downstairs voice ask if someone was upstairs. In the sea of fabric, I didn’t respond; but then again the voice wasn’t asking me. I heard foot steps and a guy appeared.
He was dark-haired, olive-skinned Jersey. I liked that. He was the kind of guy I used to have a major crush on, though in this situation I was willing to put my money on the fact that he was probably gay (not to mention I am married). He asked what I was looking for and I told him I wanted to recover my kitchen table chairs with something funky and cool. He asked if I had a color in mind. I said I liked orange. I followed his lead and he took me directly to a fabric that was orange with some hints of pink. It had silvery white flourishes on top and had that durable coating suitable for table chairs. It really was a perfect hit and I said I would take it. He went downstairs to get some scissors and when he came back up, he asked if I was still with him? I said yes. He said, “Good. I’m glad someone has the balls to use this fabric.” I said, “Well, I guess I have the balls.”
We went over to the cutting table and he measured out three yards, giving it to me for the price of two because of a seam in the measurement. I thought about how I probably should not be spending money to change my chairs but also how funky and cool it would look AND how I was the only woman in this world with the balls to pull it off. He made the cut and folded it up. Always the commitment-phobe, a little buyers remorse snuck in right when the weight of the fabric was placed in my hands. I followed him to the stairs looking at the fabric wondering if I mistook funky for possibly offensive or old lady? I thought about coming home and D hating it, even though we both loved orange. He caught my non-verbal consideration and said to me, “He’ll love it.” At that point I knew he was gay ... and my crush grew three sizes that day.
