It’s not summer, at least not officially, but the AC unit in our office doesn’t seem to care. Today it threw in the towel, transforming an idyllic window flanked penthouse on Madison Square Park into a coma-inducing sauna. Desperate to get my brain to cooperate for a brainstorm, I fled to the park and the shade of a giant leafy tree.
While craning into a wisp of a breeze, I noticed more than one pair of jelly sandals walk past. There they were, the sparkly, strappy, purple monsters I remember from middle school. Yes, they had a definite mid-90’s moment and yes, from a conceptual standpoint, there is nothing more perfect than see through colorful rubber mixed with glitter. However, I have a distinct memory of the day I finally got to wear my very own pair of said shoes in the middle of a hot Chicago summer and I was dismayed to find that though full of sparkly magic, they gave me such horrible blisters that I had to bench them. They hurt! And the more you sweat, the more they rub. There’s really no way around this.
I sat there fighting the urge to warn the jelly-wearer’s of the foot danger that lay ahead when all of a sudden a face came to mind, Lena Dunham. If anyone is going to be the new face of the jelly shoe, it’s got to be her. I can just see it now. She’ll be eating ice cream in a crop top, cutoffs, and purple jellies while letting loose a stream of banter. Maybe this feels like a weird name to drop, and maybe it is, but she’s filming all over my neighborhood. So, the thinking isn’t really that much of a stretch. Also, she’s not just filming in my neighborhood, she’s filming in everyone’s neighborhood.
So, tomorrow, I’m going to roll the dice and hope the morning starts off with a jelly clad Dunham sighting.
Dear Lena, try the jelly. It needs a spokeswoman.
By Sara Becker