Too cool for words.

There is something so arresting about the sunlight in Boston in July. It usually rains quite a bit here in May and June, so when the sun pokes through and the puddles dry up, the brightness is almost unbearable. The sun never really bothered me as a kid: I have pretty squinty eyes so I could draw them up real small and still navigate the backyard or the playground. Wearing them seemed like such a hassle- my dad searching for them for the 15 minutes before we had to leave for church (or work, or soccer practice, or anything a person could possibly be late for), resigning to the one mile trip without them, only to hear a crunch as he sat down to warm the car up. He’s some kind of mole-man, unable to be in even sorta-sunlight without protection.

I’m not really sure when it was that I started wearing sunglasses on a regular basis. It was probably the summer I found a cute bathing suit, then immediately stumbled upon a pair of shades* that exactly matched. My constitution, being both clumsy and cheap, rarely affords me the comfort of luxury goods. When I reached the end of the summer without the destroying or losing them, I promised myself that if I could hold on to the cheapies, I could also hold on to a cooler, more expensive pair.**

I think it was once I started wearing those sunglasses, I couldn’t stop. My eyes got used to seeing the world through a grayish haze, removing glare and sunspots, unable to look at the sunlight glinting off the water at the beach. Taking them off is like drawing back the curtains on a hangover first thing in the morning: a total assault on my peepers, an insta-headache complete with throbbing sockets. I can sympathize with my dad now that I realize that precious shade is worth the inevitable scolding I’ll receive from the receptionist at the dentist. I became the mole-woman, groping under the seat for the same sunglasses that my dad has worn his entire adult life: Ray-Ban aviators.

A few factors came into consideration when choosing. I have a pretty big head, so they had to be flexible enough not to give me the headache I occasionally get from headbands or eyeglasses. Dark lenses, so I could glare/stare at persons nearby without being detected (also to protect aforementioned sensitive mole-eyes). Stylish, so that I wouldn’t be pointed and laughed at. Durable, because I drop everything.

As I said, I ultimately went for the Army-issue Ray Ban Aviator with gunmetal frames and gray, polarized lenses. And they are totally bitchin’. I forgot them at home today, partly because I forget everything, partly because they weren’t in the case and partly because it rained this morning, but cleared up by lunchtime. I stepped out into that unexpected sunshine, cursing the light frying my retinas.  Seriously, the sizzle was deafening.

-MEM

*I can also remember a pair of shades with green lenses and Malcom-X style frames that I wore when that look was popular too…1995? From Preferred Distributors in Tewksbury? Don’t act like you never went in there for pogs or fake flowers or emergency birthday party gift bags.

**For the record: they are currently stashed under my bed at my parents’ house, still not lost or broken, though horribly unstylish.

War, Peace and the Danger Zone.