I was up in Chicago visiting Shoshana last weekend. They no longer live in Wriggleyville, unfortunately, but way up north on the border between the City and Evanston. They still live near the Red Line though. In fact you can see the switching yards at the end of the Red Line from their apartment.
We went to see the Picasso show at the Art Institute on Friday. We took the train in. It was early mid-morning and rush hour was finished that far north. There were only a few other passengers in the car we boarded. One was a woman of early middle age seated diagonally across from me in a seat facing the opposite direction, so that I had a good view of her.
She was plain, but attractive. At some point I noticed that she had a compact in her hand and was fussing with her make up.
It was a seemingly interminable ride. I'm not sure what the difference is between public transport in New York and Chicago, but in the former city you feel like you're getting somewhere, even on the local, while in Chicago the ride just goes on and on. As we got closer to the city center the car began to fill; the woman across from me continued to do her makeup as we went.
By the time we went underground she was finished. She seemed well satisfied and it appeared to me that she'd done a good job in her compact mirror on a moving train. She wasn't plain anymore; only I thought she was more attractive without her mask. Armor, that's what it seemed to me; a defensive cosmetic barrier against sexism, jealousy and feelings of inadequacy.
But I was only a people watcher, unaware of whatever else...
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