ExposedNYC

It’s true, a little fawning goes a long way with me, but this weekend it led to two moments that brought much-needed smiles to my face. Ask any magazine editor the way to a women’s heart and she’ll give you two tried and true standbys- men and fashion.

It all started with a new dress. It was a rare purchase for me, as I’m more likely to splurge on a plane ticket than Prada, but Showgirl was in town visiting from Vegas, and after imagining standing beside a tall, gorgeous fashionista I needed reinforcements. I popped in to a boutique I walk past almost daily and grabbed two things to try on, just before closing.

When the saleswoman looked at one and pre-warned me “this tends to run small,” I started to feel defeated, but pulled the curtain shut in the face of the insecurities attempting to follow me into the dressing room. Then, when I tried on a Marilyn Monroe-style dress in the most beautiful blue you’ve ever seen, I was sold. The sales girl redeemed herself, too, fawning over me as I checked the mirror and proclaiming that it had just come in that afternoon, and that she had hidden it for three hours planning to buy it herself (yeah, I’m sure I was just being buttered up, but the girl was good).

So, I left with a slightly lighter wallet in one hand, a heavier bag in the other, and my mood perfectly balanced. Showgirl and I were meeting for a perfume launch party (purely to take advantage of the hour of free champagne) giving us an excuse to dress up. Then we were meeting up with friends for a more casual beer, giving us an excuse to be the most overdressed girls in the room.

Camped around a table with mugs in hand, I was simply enjoying the company of a few laughs with good friends, but a guy at the table next to us was doing his best to catch my eye. He offered to give directions after overhearing a lost friend on the phone, and saved me from leaving my camera on the table. I finally gave in to his persistence when he stopped me on the way back from the bathroom to chat.

It may have been my attire that caught his eye- turns out he works in fashion. With my weakness for foreigners, it also didn’t hurt that he was raised in Australia and lived for a few years in England, creating a charming hybrid of my favorite accents. We fell so deep in to conversation that when my friends interrupted to tell me they were going to the nearest diner for a bite, I promised to follow a few minutes behind because I had become trapped in the tractor beam of his gaze.

I began to protest every few minutes that I needed to head out, until he finally invited himself along. I agreed, thankful for the escort. As we passed a playground on the walk to the diner, all of a sudden I felt my arm tugged in the direction of the swing set. “What, do you want to go for a swing?” I asked, but he had much more adult games in mind.

He leaned me up against the bars of a jungle gym and kissed me, as if he were blurting out something he’d been dying to say. It wasn’t forceful, but just filled with a feeling of absolute necessity. It was one of those moments when the electricity in the air forms a shield around you and the whole world disappears.

After a moment I pulled away, grabbed his hand, and led him towards the diner. Now he certainly had my attention, and I had a captive audience waiting over pancakes and eggs to meet him.

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