Recently, my copy of the Austin American-Statesman came with a glossy, shiny, glorious section that documents the doings of Austinites who appear to think prom shouldn’t just be for high schoolers anymore.
It’s called Glossy.
Color (and, yes, glossy) pictures of gentlemen in purple sashes and ladies in formal gowns smiling pretty for the camera beckon to be examined. There are ads for expensive cars and condos. It all looks so nice and elegant and sparkly that I just want to pack up and move back to Dallas where I can be part of that life too.
But, no, this is Austin. This came in my Austin American-Statesman, and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. Am I supposed to want to put on a tux and go to one of these gala things? Should I be jealous of the men in their sashes (when ma’s in her kerchief and I’m in my cap)? Do I need to know who’s going where? Should I be impressed?
Is this what I should aspire to?
At first I worried about the fate of Austin, but then I found that it only goes to certain neighborhoods, one of them, being mine, I note with a certain amount of horror. Are these my neighbors? Should I find my world tinted green by the lenses of jealousy.
I guess, at the end of it all, I’m left only with that great bloggy exclamation, heretofore unused here: wtf?
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