So it’s January.
January, well, blows. The holidays are over, you’ve got a cold, the hangover you’ve been hair-of-the-dogging since Thanksgiving is finally coming home to roost, the grocery store’s stopped carrying peppermint ice cream and you’ve got a stack of thank-you notes that need writing.
It strikes you in the middle of a masterfully composed note to dear Aunt Alberta, whose *delightful* oinking fridge alarm was thrown at astounding speed into the trash immediately upon opening: you feel uncool.
There is nothing worse than feeling uncool. I mean, uh, not that I know what feeling uncool is like since we all know I wasn’t born from mother’s womb like normal mortals, but instead emerged fully formed from Lou Reed’s guitar, smoking Gauloises and listening to Nina Simone.
If I DID ever feel uncool, WHICH I DON’T (not even when my answer to the relatively simple question of “are you okay” by a Cute Boy is a plaintive “I’m covered in jam”) all I would have to do is step outside and put on these:
The original Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses.
You just can’t argue with this level of cool. It’s unassailable.
The original Wayfarer transcends age and time. A 15 year-old boy is cool in them, a 70 year-old lady is cool in them. It’s like a riddle. How much more cool could they be? And the answer is none. None more cool.
They were cool when Audrey Hepburn wore them in Breakfast at Tiffany’s and Andy Warhol wore them to the Factory.
They were cool when Jack Kennedy went sailing
and they were cool when Bob Dylan went electric.
And they’d be cool on you.