Thou Doth Protest Too Much

The first time Yenta Hessa and I went to our Hampton house this summer, we went up to the house and knocked on the door. A leprechaun opened the door. It was a 40-50 year old man with shoulder length red curly hair, a 1970’s break dance lid and plaid pants. Like one of the Fat Albert cartoon characters. His name was Jesus (pronounced ‘hey-soos’; accent on the ‘soos’). He was very nice and helped us with our bags.

Jesus had a bangin’ body and turns out was staying at the house for the entire summer. He lived there in the summer, Miami in the winter, and the Upper East Side the rest of the time. He drove a BMW sports car. So, I thought it was natural to ask what Jesus did for a living.

His reply was, “Umm. Uhhh. Ohh. A little bit of this and a little bit of that. Umm. Uhh. Ohh.”

“Huh? What kind of answer was that? What did that mean?”

Jesus could not answer and seemed offended by the question.

Anyway, he was actually very sweet and believe it or not, one of most normal guys at the house all summer! And as the summer progressed, I started to find him very hot.

But he had no interest, and I’m sure it was much better that way.

Our summer pass time was to figure out what Jesus did to earn money. There was a rumor that he was a male escort.

Then a strange thing happened in October. Jesus called me and asked Yenta Hessa and me to dinner and/or a movie that weekend.

Hmm. Interesting.

I figured it wasn’t a date and accepted that. He was going to a protest and would meet me afterwards. He is something of an activist.

But on the day of, he asked if I wanted to invite Yenta to come. He said, she can come along, but it would be dutch. I decided not to call her.

Dutch? Does that mean it will be dutch for me too? Is it a date? Or is it not a date? If it is, what should I wear? If it’s not, what should I wear?

Then it began. I needed to figure out what to wear. A dress or jeans? Sky high heels or flats? Heels would be a date. Flats would be just a friendly dinner.

It took hours.

I finally decided on cute skinny jeans, cute T, and sky-high Yves Saint Laurent Tributoo platform pumps. Fabulous.

We were going to meet at a neighborhood restaurant and then take it from there. I was a few minutes early, as I always am. I waited outside. It was a beautiful night.

All of a sudden I saw him. He was approaching me fast wearing …

… Wait for it …

Roller blades.

As he reached me to kiss me hello, he nearly knocked me off my Yves Saint Laurents because he used me to stop himself from rolling.

Really?

He was wearing sweat pants, a plaid shirt, and again, in case you missed it,,, roller blades!!!

I could do nothing but laugh about how funny that was. There I was in YSL, having dinner with a guy in roller blades.

No. He never took them off. They stayed on the whole time. He told me he wore them because he was late for the protest and needed to make some time.

He walked me home after dinner. Well, it’s more like I walked and he rolled.

God, I better not see anybody I know.

Oh, by the way, it was a date. He paid.

Damn!

Is That Mold On My Chanel? Or Are You Just Happy To See Me?

I’m in the market for a new Chanel bag. Ever since I returned my turquoise metallic quilted 2.55 Chanel flap bag, I have regretted it. I miss it very much. I’ve even contemplated re-buying a used version of it off eBay. But couldn’t really bring myself to do it, in the event that I may end up with a fake.

That would be a disaster. I mean $3000 for a fake??

I would plotz.

It’s very difficult to tell a fake on eBay. Some of them look so good. At least in person you can get a better look.

Some consignment stores carry pre-owned Chanel bags as well. They are guaranteed. And at least you can inspect them. But I’m still having a problem committing to one.

Like, I just can’t see paying so much for a used Chanel. I’m kind of skeeving them. (I’m really not sure how to spell that.) Even the ones that are in good shape.

There’s a consignment chain based in the Hamptons. I will not name names. But I’ve been to all of them. There’s like six stores. Last summer my buddy, Yenta Hessa and I visited them all.

The last time I was in the Hamptons, I dragged her to a few of the stores to look for the Chanel flap bag I wanted.

I have decided, by the way, that I would not re-purchase the turquoise metallic quilted 2.55 Chanel flap bag. Turquoise metallic may go out of style and then I couldn’t wear it. So I’ve decided on a black jumbo classic quilted flap with gold hardware.

Gorgeous.

But expensive.

And not so easy to find.

But I was on a mission. And don’t mess with BSM when she’s on a mission.

We went from store to store, checking out the Chanels.

Nice.

But still. I couldn’t see dropping thousands on a used bag that I’m not even sure is authentic.

And is not really even exactly what I want.

But I continued to look.

Eventually, we made it to the store in Sag Harbor. Low and behold, there was a black jumbo classic quilted flap with gold hardware in the glass display!

Great.

Perfect!

Just what I was looking for.

Only $2995.

I asked to see it.

The woman removed it from the glass display and handed it to me. She started blabbing about how something something it was.

Whatever. Just hand it over lady.

I grab it.

Inspect it.

Lift the flap.

Hmmm.

What’s that greenish whitish stuff inside?

There was a strange blotch on the inside flap of the bag on the black leather.

Looked like mold to me.

I showed the sales girl, who quickly showed the manager, who quickly grabbed it and began trying to wipe the mold away.

They both made some excuse as to why the mold was there or that it wasn’t mold at all.

Yenta Hessa and I just looked at each other. Appalled and disgusted.

I left the black jumbo classic quilted flap with gold hardware there on the glass counter with the manager. I couldn’t look at another item in the store without being grossed out.

I was in the Hamptons this weekend. It rained all day. Yenta asked if I wanted to go to the consignment store.

“No thanks,” I said.