Sweat-er Weather
There are layers here
Finally: it’s sweater weather! And by sweater weather I mean chilly mornings that betray you as they become sweltering afternoons, your cozy cardigan a casualty of barometric inconstancy. I found myself fall victim to the seduction of the dewy morn this week and left the house for a walk with a friend wearing a light jacket.
We met at a local coffee shop that’s known for its celebrity clientele. It has the things they need to survive: matcha, oat milk, and gluten free pastries. I didn’t sight any celebs, but that could be because I am increasingly out of touch with celeb culture, so maybe I did see a celeb—they just weren’t a celeb to me. I ordered an oat milk latte (when in Rome) and we began our stroll around The Reservoir.
“The Reservoir” is the Silver Lake Reservoir, a shimmering pool plonked between two large hills. On a clear day, you can see mountains majestically rising from the east. On a hot day, the smog belches from the nearby freeways and the water smells putrid.
There’s a path that wraps its way around The Reservoir, water on one side, architecturally significant houses on the other. The houses range from 60s glass-walled wonders to quaint Tudors to brutalist fortresses. While they are inconsistently stylistic, they are consistently unaffordable.
Our fellow The Reservoir patrons included the usual array of humanity—glistening runners, baby pushers, haphazard mosy-ers. Halfway around we reached “The Meadow” (a lawn) and sat on a bench to chat. My friend was talking about how much dating sucks, particularly when heterosexual men are involved. Just then, I saw reasonable looking man walk by, as if the universe were saying, “Hey, there’s one right here!” I looked at my friend again. When I looked back up, that man (who was wearing clothes I would describe as “not for exercise”) was sprinting, shoeless, back and forth across the meadow.
Eventually we got up and finished our meander. I was pouring sweat. I stripped off my light jacket. The grassy morning smell was gone. The heat was settling in. I got to my car (you think I’m going to walk to a walk? in this town?) and headed home, already seeking the sweet relief of cool interiors, eager for the sun to go down so I could once again feel the cozy embrace of a second layer. I understood why that guy wanted to feel the grass beneath his feet.
This week was bad, but I was inspired reading about Vivian Silver. A place to start.