For the past three Christmases. I’d go downtown to see the windows of the most impressive store in Cincinnati, Saks Fifth Avenue and take some time to stare at the mannequins in the window. How I envy those mannequins, the feelingless the lifelessness. The complete absence of emotion; love, pain, desire, they experienced none of the things that make us as humans imperfect. And they got to wear the clothes I prayed for and I literally live for. The windows of Saks are the closet I get to the famous window displays of Bergdorf Goodman in New York.
I would then retire come home, connect my iPhone to my sound bar and slip into the one of the grandest dresses I own; a Marchesa evening gown (which is not really Marchesa by rather Pearl by Georgina Chapman of Marchesa because my broke ass can’t really afford a $9,000 couture Marchesa gown) and the shiny gold gladiator heels I bought myself for Christmas. The intro to Cola by Lana Del Rey blaring from the speakers would fill the air:
“My pussy tastes like Pepsi-Cola, my eyes are wide like cherry pies, I got a taste for men who’re older, it’s always been so it’s no surprise.” (Lana Del Rey, Cola)
Floating around the room twirling and swaying back and forth to the lyrics of Lana Del Rey as my curls bounce in rhythm from one shoulder to the other. Lana was like Santa Claus in our home.
“Ah, he’s in the sky with diamonds and he’s making me crazy (I come alive, alive), all he wants to do is party with his pretty baby” (Lana Del Rey, Cola)
Grayson sitting on the edge of my bed staring at me make a fool of myself with his tail curled underneath his body.
“Drugs suck it up like vanilla ices, don’t treat me rough treat me really niceys, decorate my neck diamantes ices, why, come on, come on, ooooOOOOHHHH, ooooOOOOHHHH” (Lana Del Rey, Cola)
Howling at the top of my lungs like Lana as droplets of red wine run down the front of the full tulle skirt from all of my vigorous movements.
“Come on baby, let’s ride, we can escape to the great sunshine, I know your wife and she wouldn’t mind we made it out to the other side.” (Lana Del Rey, Cola)
For the past three years of winter holidays this has been the unofficial tradition; me, Grayson, Lana Del Rey and a giant glass of red wine. I’ve grown used to this aloneness. Over the course of time I’ve been so conditioned to being alone in my every day life and especially during holidays until I’ve reached a point where I almost prefer it that way. I don’t want to be surrounded by a family I can’t stand and doesn’t respect me or my identity or awkwardly joining the family of a friend in their holiday celebration. I am completely fine alone with the most consistent living being in my life; my cat.
“I wear my diamonds on skid row” (Lana Del Rey, Cola)
Rolling around on my bright yellow trellis print rug in layers of lace and tulle showcasing my growing bust line and curvy figure. This to me is the meaning of life, clothes, wine and shoes .During the holidays I never got down or lost in my feelings over the loveless relationship of my family or the absence of a significant other or the friends lost during the year because I know in time those things will exactly what they should be, but right now the experience of this aloneness (not loneliness) on the holidays makes me stronger.
“Come on baby, let’s ride, we can escape to the great sunshine, I know your wife and she wouldn’t mind we made it out to the other side. OOOhhhh Ahhhhh” (Lana Del Rey, Cola)
Grayson still staring at me and I’m looking back into his yellow eyes, and stroke his whiskers whispering in his ear “we made it out to other side” one day he and I will both make it out to the other side and this will not always be our narrative.
As the song fades out it ends the same way it began and Lana whispers:
“My pussy tastes like Pepsi-Cola” (Lana Del Rey, Cola)