About two weeks ago the CEO of my company wrote to me via whatsapp inquiring if I was going to his wedding. I knew perfectly well that it was happening, but I never had it clear if I was invited, so this came as a bit of a surprise to me. I confided that it hadn’t been clear to me but that I was glad that I was invited, and that I would attend. My enthusiasm was honest and I think it was reciprocated.

They make an endearing couple. They are long time friends from highschool, to him she’s a realized queen crush, and to her he is a friend become king lover. They fulfill their archetypes with humility and dedication and they are both very smart, affectionate to each other, and I only get good vibes from this union. Of course I only experience the surface, but the deep parts come to surface, if you pay attention.

As much as I was enthusiastic about the wedding, I also knew I was lacking in the clothing department. I bought a cheap-ish suit but a ridiculously expensive dark shirt (worth it) and expensive shoes. I also got an orange tie, the whole outfit is in warmer tones and I thought it would look good, but it didn’t. My new tiny home has no mirrors except for a face mirror in the bathroom (and I love it this way, I’ll write about mirrors some day), so I took some photos to be able to look at myself. I used the orange tie and a red one I already had, and sent both photos to my family. They agreed the red one was better. I decided that it will be too hot for a tie, and I will take back the orange tie.

I was greatly tempted to buy a Panama hat, but they were expensive and I’m not sure about the venue. I could still go buy it but I’m tired from running errands all day long.

I write this the next day, while on the train. Yesterday I had to get a belt that matched my new shoes, so I visited a gentlemen’s shop around the corner. The owner showed me his belts of which there were only two possible options that matched the color: plain leather or something more flashy. I explained my conundrum: I feel my outfit is boring and it needs a dash of something. It will be too hot to wear a flashy tie, but some other accesory might do the job. He suggested a hankerchief which I declined, I correctly inferred the suit’s front pockets were fake.

We proceeded to measure my waist. Wow that’s a small waist he said, we’re going to have to cut a lot. Are you decided on this belt? We would need to adjust it he said. I joked that he should give me a discount, he could make two belts out of one. He cut a section and we measured again. It fit at its smallest. “Ah I’ve always suffered with this, the end of the belt sticks out and it looks untidy, can we get even more off?” I asked. He informed me that belts are supposed to be used at the middle hole and cut what remained to accomplish that.

I also went to the tailor nearby. I put on my trousers and shoes and went directly to the store. I said to the lady: I have no idea how trousers are supposed to fall over shoes, so I put them on so you know how much to adjust the leg fold. She said “yes, but how are you going to leave them for me to adjust them?” and I said “I have shorts underneath these pants”, so she put me in front of a mirror and put a pin at her suggested length. I thought it looked neat and said yes, let’s do this, but I need it done today. “It will be done in an hour”, great thanks bye.

I went back home and used the hour preparing and tidying up. As I was walking back to the tailor, I saw a slim silhouette at the distance with a sexy gait, but in a special way. She was not swaying her hips, as most women do, she was using her entire torso swinging from side to side while bracing her core (revealed by the tightness of her exposed abs). I was utterly mesmerized by the beauty of the gait, and despite wanting, my eyes could not get off of her. Before we could cross paths she turned at the corner, heading to a gym. I continued my way in such a dazzle that I walked two blocks past the tailor shop, and then traced my way back.

I picked up my pants and wondered if I should sign up for the gym already, I had been thinking about it (I’m currently doing two yoga practices a day, it would be better if one of those was strength training. I thought about it better: no, not today, that’s was only incited by the woman I saw, I’ll do it when my concurrent yoga subscriptions stop overlapping (long boring story).

I like neighborhood a lot, it’s like a Jane Jacobs wet dream: people go to the park simply to enjoy the cool of the evening, the streets are lined with mom and pop shops of every trade you can imagine, it just feels like a healthy neighborhood. I was thinking: how is this going to evolve in the post-ai era? And I saw a vision of mom and pop commerce that is largely a hobby instead of a means of earning a living. Picture selling Shein at a markup because you are providing human fashion expertise, and rent is paid for since your neighborhood likes you. Easy to imagine the utopian version of this. I also saw a dystopia in which I was reminded of setting in a dementia residence: they set up a fake mall with carts and products which patients would delightfully fill and take to checkout, their daily shopping disappearing quietly at night. We might see more compulsive buying as people come to gripes with meaning, our generation is still very material and “owning things” is still a large part of our identity.

I told my mother I was going to the wedding and she’s been very worried that I will drink a lot (more than usual). I spoke with her on the phone, saying “I’m not a fan of drinking mom (especially the next day), but sometimes you just have to do it. Especially as a Mexican, imagine my boss comes and proposes shots, what am I to say? “No thank you”? They’re going to say “what kind of Mexican are you?” and I will say “the kind of Mexican who will only drink shots of tequila or mezcal, your liquours weak and your ways effiminate, bring that and I will join you in celebration”, my mother was having a heart attack with further vivid deciptions of debauchery that could happen if I got drunk. Behind the jokes, there is some truth: it will be best not to get wasted. A therapist once told me “our mothers always want what is best for ous, it’s just that their prescriptions for it are often not the best”. My mother wants me to have a good time and also to cause a good impression, and not to put in danger my job. Her prescription for this moderating my drinking. She reminded me of the terrible hangover with which I left Puebla and I shuddered to think that could happen to me again.

I’m aiming for a moderate hangover, let that be the aim. I’ll try to have a nap now, I didn’t sleep much.