Maureen Kingston,

MCM Revival

Her Formica-yellow nails and matching leggings are a dead giveaway. She’s looking for varnished time. The charm of the 1950s minus its reckoning ball. I guide her to the Midcentury Modern section of the store. Clean lines. Pressed wood. Pelt rugs without faces. Her gaze lingers lustily on a lowrider couch with stiletto heels. Beyond her credit means. I invite her to pet the high-gloss finish on a faux pretzel chair instead. (Odd how an era famous for amphetamines and girdle-glam would name its furniture after food.) She takes the pretzel chair and a pair of pineapple lamps, too. I try to interest her in a reproduction marshmallow sofa but her heart’s still aching for the lowrider. We move on to accessories. She chooses a brass starburst wall clock – the fourth one I’ve sold this week. If business keeps on like this, I’ll soon be able to buy myself a vintage Airstream and get on the road.

nostalgia . . .
lone wolves howling
in the backyard