By Heather O.
Because I figure if you can make sense of Lorelei Gilmore’s jackets, everything else is just gravy.
I’ve been Netflixing “The Gilmore Girls”, although what I’ve really been doing is a hybrid of Netflix and ordering them at the library, figuring that I could get them all faster (because patience, um, not my thing), which has sort of backfired on me, because the library DVDs came in way sooner than I expected, and, unlike Netflix, there ARE late fees at the library (hefty ones–trust me, I know this), so I have to hurry up and watch the library DVDs before the Netflix DVDs get there, with the confusing result that I am now halfway through Season 1 AND halfway through Season 2, and I keep getting confused who is dating whom and which fight everybody is in when.
Phew. That sentence was exhausting.
Anyway, The Wiz promised she’d watch Buffy if I’d watch Gilmore Girls. And so here we are.
And if you know anything about the Gilmore Girls, you know that the main character is a totally dysfunctional but quirkily adorable single mom named Lorelei, who eats like she should be morbidly obese, but looks like she hits the gym twice daily (which is, I suppose, the beauty of the illusion of television. They allow us a world in which people who eat like trolls look like models. Ah, the virtues of alternative reality.)
Among other things, Lorelei wears a lot of jackets. It’s New England, it’s cold, she needs a jacket, right? But there are a lot of shots where she is alone on the screen, putting on her jacket, like it’s a moment where the audience can ponder what happens next. I mean, like, why is she putting on a jacket? Is there somebody important she’s going to meet? If it’s a light jacket, does that mean she won’t be staying for long, or, if it’s a heavy jacket, does that mean she’ll be taking a brisk stroll that will end up in a long meandering conversation with whichever man she chooses to have in her life at that particular moment, which, as far as I can tell, is completely dependent on whether or not she needs a cheeseburger or a ride on a motorcycle?
(Whimsy, I guess some people call it. Dysfunctional and weird is what I call it, but hey, I like syrup with my cottage cheese, so what do I know.)
Anyway, in one episode, I counted THREE different jackets. Yes, three, and although they resembled each other stylistically, and one of them was sort of a dress-up overcoat number, she definitely had too many jackets going on. I mean, how many coats does a woman need? I understand the need for spring, fall, and winter jackets, and I spent 8 winters in New England, so I understand the interminable arctic blasts that last well after the rest of the world has moved on to spring.
But really, in my opinion, 3 winter coats is a little overkill. Am I wrong?
If I am, I don’t want to be right.
In other pondering news, I’m in the middle of 3 books right now, which is almost as mind blowing as 3 winter jackets. This is not my usual reading style. Mostly, I pick up a book and ignore the world until I finish it, inevitably at a time when only rats and babies and literary obsessed mothers are awake. But I’m reading a book for book group, a book for myself, AND a book for a book review that will appear right here at this very spot when I’m finished with it (and you should be looking forward to that, people, because my book reviews are totally rockin’. I think. I mean, I’ve never actually done an official BOOK REVIEW, per se, but how hard can it be? Plus, this book is really really cool, and so it will be really easy to tell you how awesome it is.)
(And by now, y’all should be shouting at me TELL US WHAT BOOK IT IS ALREADY but, I’m just gonna be mean and keep you in suspense. It’s good for your soul, you know.)
But I’ve discovered that when you are reading 3 really intense books, your brain (or maybe it’s just my brain) jumps around like a spider monkey on speed, and then you do dumb things when you drive, like miss your turn twice and drive into the wrong parking lot and forget where the exit of the parking lot is because you are, in fact, pondering about the mysteries of the universe that have been presented to you in masterfully literary ways.
Books. Never drive under the influence. Those adjectives can be a killer.
This may possibly be the most random post I’ve ever written.
Thanks for sticking with it until the end. I appreciate it.
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