Guest Writer Leah Rizzo, middays on Eagle 97.7
It may seem odd that someone who spent fourteen years of their life attending a Quaker school would recommend a little retail therapy when life feels out of your control, especially since one of the core Quaker values is simplicity, which of course is built on the idea that the value of a person comes not from what they own or their monetary worth but rather the strength of their character. In other words Gucci petticoats and bonnets didn’t make you a better person. Simplicity is, of course, something I personally value greatly as it was a big part of my upbringing, but that’s not to say I don’t own a smartphone or other necessities that I, a person living in the 21st century with a 21st century job, require to be effective at said job. I, however don’t put any stock in “Who” I’m wearing but rather “what”. So when the world feels out of your control and I recommend a little retail therapy it’s not so much the object that I recommend buying, but rather the attitude it gives you.
If you ever end up a passenger in my car you’ll find I like to keep an array of interesting sunglasses ranging from the plain and simple Quaker approved, to the over-the-top looking but completely ineffective cat eye, not only for myself but for anyone who may be joining me on our own personal episode of Carpool Karaoke. Out of all the hats I wear and all the plates I spin the best way for me to remind myself that I am the axis on which all the things in my crazy world are spinning is to go buy and proceed to wear the hell out of a fabulous pair of cheap sunglasses. Why? Because just like driving through the tunnel under the highway for the kids in “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” with a stylish pair of sunglasses “I feel Infinite.”
To me, there’s no feeling in the world like the drive home on a late spring day when the air is mild and fresh, and every second the lingering sunlight caresses your skin it resuscitates you from winter’s powerful, chilling grip. Those are my favorite days. The days I get to roll the windows down, blast an Americana road trip style playlist, and dare my fellow commuters to stare at me while I rock out at red lights. And for forty five minutes or so my saunter feels a little sassier, the minutes don’t seem to pass as fast, and I feel in control of my own destiny. All at the cost of about $12.99 and a little less room in my glove compartment.
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