Vineyard Vines is generally overpriced for my tastes, as I prefer the strategy of waiting it out until clearance opportunities arise. Like a good Yankee, I'm selectively allergic to expenditure. In over a decade of near-constant business travel, I have never forgotten to pack anything, save the time in 2006 when I forgot cuff links. On Sunday evening, after the usual painful goodbyes to the lovelies in my household, it was somewhere in the airport security line when I remembered that I had not packed any socks.
On the other side of the x-ray-nudie-peeping-Tom scanner, a Vineyard Vines shop was about to close. I bought the last five pairs of socks they had. They were offered at a fraction of what I thought they would have been, and because they were solid black, not even the cutesy little whale on them had made them appealing enough to go for full retail. The market forces were in my favor as they lessened the penalty for my absent-minded ness.
A week in San Francisco with conservative and business-safe black socks.
A woman sat at the table next to me with her friend and droned on about her recent trip to Paris. I will spare you the details, the inescapable volume of it forced me to learn more than I cared to know about her 10 days there. From what I could gather, she spent her entire time using her iPhone to plot jogging routes throughout the various districts of Paris, and described each in excruciating detail. Instead of casually strolling in and out of cafe after cafe, sitting and reading, eating and drinking, this vapida spent her vacation there in Lycra and headphones following some route on her phone, and ignoring the worlds greatest restaurants, eschewing conversations with locals, refusing to smoke, abstaining from heavy cream/butter/salt, neglecting the worlds finest wines offered for a pittance, and disregarding the endless art, beautiful clothing, or one of the thousands of parties. I learned all of this in the time it took me to ask for my check and leave.
On the other side of the x-ray-nudie-peeping-Tom scanner, a Vineyard Vines shop was about to close. I bought the last five pairs of socks they had. They were offered at a fraction of what I thought they would have been, and because they were solid black, not even the cutesy little whale on them had made them appealing enough to go for full retail. The market forces were in my favor as they lessened the penalty for my absent-minded ness.
A week in San Francisco with conservative and business-safe black socks.
A woman sat at the table next to me with her friend and droned on about her recent trip to Paris. I will spare you the details, the inescapable volume of it forced me to learn more than I cared to know about her 10 days there. From what I could gather, she spent her entire time using her iPhone to plot jogging routes throughout the various districts of Paris, and described each in excruciating detail. Instead of casually strolling in and out of cafe after cafe, sitting and reading, eating and drinking, this vapida spent her vacation there in Lycra and headphones following some route on her phone, and ignoring the worlds greatest restaurants, eschewing conversations with locals, refusing to smoke, abstaining from heavy cream/butter/salt, neglecting the worlds finest wines offered for a pittance, and disregarding the endless art, beautiful clothing, or one of the thousands of parties. I learned all of this in the time it took me to ask for my check and leave.
vapida...that just made me laugh out loud. very nicely and concisely written. you must be a lawya...
ReplyDeleteVapida...great!
ReplyDeleteWhat great fun... lovely to find your blog via Reggie and a nice departure from all the food blogs I visit. Loved your 2013 list!
ReplyDeleteHello Mr YWP:
ReplyDeleteWe have discovered you through the labyrinth which is the Blogosphere from our dear friend Reggie Darling. And, what joy to have arrived!
Your account of the 'Vapida' in Lycra on the streets of Paris was delicious. We savoured each morsel but, could only reflect how standards are plummeting globally these days. One would have thought that the cobbled, narrow and often uneven nature of the Parisian thoroughfares would have deterred said 'Vapida' but clearly not. Maybe her i-Phone can predict potential hazards for her too. We can only hope that she has no idea where Hungary is and so our streets in Budapest may remain safe from her!!!
We do so hope that we may welcome you to our blog one day!
I suppose it's better than a blogger posting endless pictures about their recent trip to Paris.
ReplyDeleteIs there a recent one out there by that description? It might be nice, unless the endless photos are of someone's jogging route.
DeleteThe "Vapidas" of this world have mistaken "fitness" for "virtue." Their over-reliance on endorphins, which apparently obviates the need for enjoyment of all the other sensory pleasures you describe, in their minds allows them to claim superiority over those of us who fail to strive assiduously, 24/7, for "health." As though quantity of life (s/he who dies with the best "numbers," wins) has become a contest among such conspicuous, competitive strivers, rendering "quality" of life an irrelevancy. The joke is on them, as the very statistics they worship fail to bear out any benefit of their pathetic and wearying obsession . . .
ReplyDeleteAmen! the old "I'm training for a marathon" cocktail chatter usually tells me that one of us has wandered into the wrong dinner party. You are 100% correct. These people equate working out with health and/or athleticism, and they not only miss the mark, but they are horrible bores.
DeleteAn unfortunate marriage between narcissism and fear, methinks . . . in any event, for all their buffed-ness, they will never be comfortable in their lycra-clad skins. Because you can never be TOO perfect, you know! ; )
DeleteMethinks that _______ and "Virtue" often get confused.
DeleteSadly, this is probably the same person who goes somewhere new and different and complains that it is not "like home."
I am not sure how Boston crowd look at VV, I personally think it is a bit too much...maybe it is only me.
ReplyDeleteI travel a great deal for work as well. I pride myself on being efficient with my packing and never forget a thing. That is until I was half-way to my coastal Georgia destination a few years back and realized (how does that happen...just out of the blue?) I'd failed to pack a dress shirt for the next morning.
ReplyDeleteI put the hammer down, and made it to a fine beach-y men's shop just before they closed for the night. I picked up the single finest white OCBD I've ever owned and they pressed it for me right there on the spot. That shirt is still in my rotation.
"vapida"
ReplyDeleteNice.
"refusing to smoke"
Yes! There are a number of countries that damn near demand that you light up -- though I'm not as physically tolerant of it as I was even 10 years ago (I guess that's actually a fair bit of time, isn't it). Two trips to visit a friend in Turkey...the Turks do like their tobacco, may my lungs forgive me.
I remember sitting outside an ordinary French restaurant (you know, the kind of everyday little place that puts most of our Michelin Starred establishments to shame) watching the evening draw in and passively smoking a couple of packets of cigarettes when a smartly dressed American couple asked the maitre d' to be shown the non-smoking area. The look of disgust on his face as he pointed them inside and up the stairs was quite something. I imagine they sat there in some stuffy little room, safely cut out from the sounds, smells and sights outside, and congratulated themselves on their commitment to health.
ReplyDeleteOf course, much of this has changed. Even in Paris, I believe, smoking is not permitted indoors, so most restaurants are non-smoking by default. A pity, really, although it does mean that one can come home from a trip to the continent without all one's suits reeking of gauloises (the cigarettes, not the people).