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Do
Boys Now Make Passes At Girls Who Wear Glasses?
I knew it was time for new glasses when a stranger
grabbed me on the street, grinned and shouted: "Nana, Nana Mascouri".
We had the records and I knew what he meant. My out of date glasses could
not be anyone else's. It was time to disown them myself.
New glasses are long overdue, but my memories of buying in the 80's do
not prepare me for just how cosmopolitan Dublin has become. The first
place I go to is way out of my price range, but once inside, embarrassment
forces me to look at some styles. Here a large hard-sell man who uses
language confidently serves me. When he reveals that my face demands an
upswept frame, he repeats the word "upsweep" as if it is in everyday usage.
In the next glasses emporium, a nervous employee sporting a pair of traditional
metal frames approaches me. When I tentatively suggest a pair of "way-out"
shells (which happen to cost only 60 euro more that than my upper price
limit) she is ecstatic and commences the persuade-ment. Is she coaxing
me to wear a style she wants to but never will? My victim complex lurches
onto the scene.
Later another employee finds me a pair, which would work out (with the
lenses) costing around 650 euro. While I have already stated a far lower
price limit she says "it is really not that much, you would pay if for
a coat, a good winter coat you would wear all winter, and look at all
the warmth and use you would get out of that? It's like a second skin."
I shiver with horror remembering how I once spent just over £100 on a
coat and then could hardly bear to wear it, what with always seeing the
price emblazoned in big letters on its collar. I am currently wearing
a coat that cost me exactly £1. As the woman at the church sale said,
"sure you can't go wrong for a pound". I didn't, but I fear I could go
very wrong for 650 euro. I would need to be able to wear it every winter
for the rest of my life.
While wandering round town, I recall a time in school when a sophisticated
English teacher quoted the demoralising phrase: "boys don't make passes
at girls who wear glasses" having first carefully checked the room - or
so she thought - for females in spectacles. The teacher's immediate apology
only highlighted her error and I blushed for the duration of the class.
Now an assistant remarks that "times have changed" and "glasses are a
part of fashion". It is no longer true that "boys don't make passes".
I remain sceptical, and wonder if it might be good to "test drive" before
you pay? I suggest going walkabout in my trial frames. While outside I
would ask random males for directions, which would in fact be necessary,
considering the non-prescription nature of the trial specs. I would calculate
how long it takes with each different style, until a pass or at least
eye contact is made, provided my squinting and eyeballing don't put them
off? The assistant does not feign interest well.
In the next shop I am instructed to climb some stairs and enter a small
chamber like room, which feels more like a dentist's waiting room than
an emporium. Here the seller engages me in friendly conversation. "Are
you a student?" "No" I say "not anymore, though I have been one for a
very long time and in many ways I still feel like one".
This is the most listened to I've felt in ages, and though I sense my
reply was too long, I continue to talk about my painful transition from
college into the outside world. He is patient and after my story informs
me of the student discounts which apply in his shop and agrees to give
them to me, even though I am now only a student in my mind. This conversation
takes us to closing time and I try to pay him for what felt like therapy,
but he refuses so I stuff a tenner in the lifeboat box on the counter.
I find one last emporium that is not bound by mundanities such as normal
opening hours, and I shuffle in. The room is very dark, not from poor
lighting (which is the norm in so many of the trendy emporiums) but because
of the vast quantities of black and dark brown frames on its shelves.
There I see a poster of a dark-haired female model sporting a pair like
those on display. I look in the mirror and blink. She is not so very far
away from Nana, and nor am I. If I bide my time and keep my money in my
purse a bit longer then maybe they'll bring out the Nana range? I go home
to dust off those album covers, polish my specs, and wait.
by
Priscilla Robinson
20th June 2002
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