Welcome to The New Classic, where the past and the present merge, to form a new future.
Once that no one can see coming...
Join Angelo, Vanessa and the rest of the gang three and a half long years after that fateful night.
Lo kept count. V didn't...
Moodlist The Girl From Ipanema - Stan Getz & João Gilberto featuring Astrud Gilberto Fela Kuti - Lady Deathless - Ibeyi featuring Kamasi Washington Masterpiece - Sault Wrong or Right - Kwabs
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LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM EARLY DECEMBER
"You know, you look prettier when you smile, right?" My lips curled upwards slightly, while the words slipped out from between them. My tone and cadence teetered on the precipice of condescension, tempered by only a sliver of self restraint.
A penny dropped for him in that moment.
That shit was mad annoying.
The man who sat across the table from me, was guilty of committing the same faux pas on a number of occasions. And while I always obliged him with a smile, it was often done out of the desire to mask some degree of irritation, as opposed to a genuine wish to acquiesce.
He meant no harm by it. In his eyes, he saw a young, beautiful woman, who should have wanted to look her best at all times. And to him, nothing detracted from the beauty of a lady, than a frown.
And he wasn't alone in that school of thought.
Misogyny made a product out of me and every other woman that participated in this particular flavour of the western export that was capitalism.
There was little to no appreciation for the female spectrum of emotion. A pensive expression, which might have been caused by a moment of deep introspection, or trying to decide what I was going to eat for dinner wasn't welcome. And God forbid, I was actually sad about something!
No, desirability above all else. Even grief.
And it didn't stop there. Wrinkles brought on by years of brazenly raised brows, and the evidence of a lifetime's laughter in the form of crow's feet and smile lines had no place on the face of the woman. Those hallmarks of age, perspective and wisdom were reserved for the men that played James Bond and sold designer perfumes.
All of that and more was what I thought about when a man thought himself entitled to my appeasement.
A smile.
Something that was so simple, yet so difficult under the right circumstances.
Before he looked up at me, his thick brows were heavy with contemplation. Full lips were pursed ever so slightly, letting me know that the whispers I'd heard over the last few weeks had some truth to them.
What had been added to his plate, wasn't to his taste.
Not his actual plate.
The Wagyu Tomahawk he had ordered was looking rather delicious, alongside its complimentary accoutrements. The immense portion size was a reminder that the dish was meant to be shared by two, but my companion was a famously greedy man.
