Feeling Floral

All photos by the amazing/talented/lovely Jamie Lauren

Last Thursday, I went about my regular routine.  Stopped in at JJ Bean for a coffee on the way to the office.  Holding my iced Americano, I took one glance at the stairs and then down at my heels and made the very easy decision to take the elevator.  Now, this is going to sound dramatic, but the simple moments before something significant happens seem to be so magnified afterwards.   Maybe its because you process how the fates aligned and each second prior led you to that exact moment.  I can see the vivid imagery of the scene before I stepped onto the elevator like a well studied painting.  There was a man in a pale blue button up who’d held the front door for me but remained on his phone in the lobby.  There was another man in a tee shirt with smoothies and lunch in hand and a woman with a ponytail and scrunchy (I hear they’re coming back in style) just behind him.  The elevator doors opened and we shuffled in.  The man with lunch pressed his floor.  The woman and I had a brief awkward dance, as I stumbled back when she abruptly stopped to press her button.  Floors 3 and 4 were the selection du jour, but as the doors closed I think I knew something was amiss.  We rode up and attempted to successfully reach our first destination, only to not actually get there at all.  The doors started making a straining sound, much like a skipping c.d., as they were obviously trying to open, but never ended up doing so.  “I’ve never been trapped on an elevator” the guy with lunch said plainly, as I felt my face get hot at the thought of being stuck in that steel box of death for any length of time.  Then we started to move again.  “Hope,” I thought, “There’s still the fourth floor!” But, we arrived nowhere and the doors once again tried to open but instead glitched.  So, we went down again.  At this point, I think I would have rather been stuck in one spot.    Riding up and down in a broken elevator with a mind of its own only makes me think of plummeting to the basement in the steel box of death.  So, I started pressing buttons.  First the open door switch, since it said we were on the ground floor and all I could think of was how much I loved and wanted to be safely reacquainted with the ground.  But steel box of death didn’t like that much, since we were, of course, not actually on a floor, but instead in between floors.  Next, I pressed that magical phone button and made a call to the elevator Gods for help.  “Remain calm,” a muffled robotic voice recited to us, “Someone will be on the line shortly.”  Never would I have imagined that I’d ever be stuck on a runaway elevator, but that I’d also be on hold with our potential rescuers.  We rode up once more, and then down once more, and I started to take those deep yoga breaths to try and calm myself.  One mustn’t appear TOO panicked in case the ordeal is over shortly.  Sure enough, steel box of death claims to have reached the third floor, and finally kept true to its word.  I’ve really never been so happy to see those same old hallways.  “Hello?” the operator called out as we, ironically, were finally set free.  Guy with lunch explained what had just transpired and she informed us that we’d just have to tell the building manager.  Which, seemed a tad unfair to anyone else getting on that same elevator after us.  And then, after such an intense five minutes together, we all just kind of parted ways like nothing extraordinary had happened at all.  What I’m trying to say in a roundabout way, is that I’m about to get in GREAT shape because from now on I’ll only ever take the stairs.

To stay on topic, how much do you love this Ted Baker dress?  It was a Heathrow airport purchase last year and I surprisingly had not worn it until this day.  Can you believe that?!  I’ll definitely be getting a couple more wears out of it before this summer is over.