Sometimes you want to sit every woman you have ever been around the same table. The one who knows where the documents are. The one who books the ticket while everyone else is still discussing the weather. The one who will never text him again. And the one who already has — purely for anthropological research.
They are usually expected to reach an agreement, appoint one official version and avoid confusing the public. How dull. As though a grown woman were allowed one personality, two respectable hobbies and a beige coat for moments of inner conflict.
Artisan Harmony looks as though the dinner actually took place. Chunky cream knitting holds its shape and remembers common sense. Grey remains almost weightless. Yellow clearly brought champagne, although nobody asked. Emerald says nothing, wearing the expression of someone who knows exactly how this will end.
And nobody argues.
Dense sits beside airy, restrained beside provocative, heavy beside almost sheer. None of them tries to become more alike. They simply enjoy each other’s company. Rather like mismatched socks that met by accident in the morning and considered themselves a couple by evening.
Wear the sweater back to front and the seating arrangement changes. Yellow and emerald switch places; grey joins another part of the conversation. No scandal follows. Grown-up contradictions have excellent manners.