Classic Rock One Shots

Mick Jagger I "Winter Woman" {Fling}

Muse: Brazilian Singer/ Songwriter Astrud Gilberto
Musician: English Singer/ Songwriter, Actor and Producer, Mick Jagger
Time: Late Sixties

The sixties were nearing their end and skiing was the new craze sweeping the Anglophone-world. It was already integral in many parts of Northern Europe, and it was now well on its way to becoming a staple elsewhere. That being said, it was still new to many people, and with it being new, those people had yet a clue what they were doing. Skiing was boring: bound to the repetitive 'Hotdog, Pizza Slice' method, and permitting only a moderate speed downhill.

Still, people continued to ski: not finding joy in the sport itself, but in the fashion and the social status it implied. The furs, the matching sets, the space age shades — it was all too tempting to pass up. In fact, the notorious Mick Jagger himself was a part of this expanding group that couldn't resisting skiing's allure. So there he was, on a spontaneous weekday holiday, dressed to the nines at the base of a snowy hill. By his side, there was, of course, a beautiful woman: Joslyn.

With her dark bob, brown eyes and shapely figure, she was the absolute perfect girl of the sixties. Little did she know, those things would all be out of style come the soon-approaching seventies, along with the riskless style of skiing that they'd perfected. It would be the time of the sizzling tan, the age of the pencil-thin, and the wild decade that birthed freestyle skiing.

But none of that mattered now. Mick stood off to the side, watching her in amusement as he leaned back against the railing with his ankles crossed. Mick fit right in, as if this were his homeland. Red turtleneck, tan creased trousers, orange jumper tied over his shoulders — he looked like old money. Joslyn strapped her skis onto her boots, her white oval sunglasses threatening to slip right off of her face with every move.

"Think you'll be done anytime soon, princess?" He quipped sarcastically. Joslyn rose, looking over at him in annoyance with her shades just barely resting on the tip of her nose. His wraparound sports glasses acted as a headband, the black plastic pulling his chocolate brown locks out of his face. Not a single person at the resort had proper ski goggles; skiing at these expensive resorts was always more about fashion than functionality.

The brunette tufts of Joslyn's side fringe that circled neatly against her cheekbones were now shaking in the biting breeze. She was thankful that her ears were snug and protected underneath her ginger fox-fur hat. "I am ready, Sir Mick." Her gloved hands brushed the snow off of the material of her yellow ski-suit, thumb sliding her glasses back up her nose.

"Then let's go, shall we?" He held out his elbow for her to take, cheeky grin on his full lips. She hooked her arm in his own own, giving him a brief chortle and an eye roll as they waddled over to the ski lifts. They didn't speak much on the ride up the hill; there wasn't much to talk about, seeing how they barely knew each other.