Yesterday, the Missus and I enjoyed lunching and shopping at the mall. As we poked around Banana Republic, we enjoyed a heated discussion on why one would buy white pants when I suddenly said, "This song is amazing."
I'll readily admit to my apparently shitty taste in music. I have no problem confessing that yes, I like Rob Thomas. That douche John Mayer is right up my alley. And sure, I sobbed hysterically at James Blunt's heartbreaking performance on a 1am episode of Oprah. Who didn't? I'm VH1's target spinster, and I make no apologies.
But this song playing in a lesser Banana Republic...well, it was cool. Cool even to other people! And I really, really liked it. I couldn't make out the words, it was too weird, gay and cocktail party background-esque. Normally, I'll google a sentence, find whatever song struck my fancy and buy it on iTunes. But I couldn't make out a word of this masterpiece.
"Excuse me." I said to woman with one of those secret service things in her ear, in case of a "Martin fit eco-chic trouser" emergency. "Do you know what song this is?"
She looked at me in bored horror. "No."
"Oh, okay. It's just this song is so..."
But she was off to fold some cropped cardigans and I was left worrying about the customer service policies of one of my standard clothiers. I'm not saying she had to run down to the CD player somewhere and burn me a copy. But a little, "I know! We've been wondering too" or "Let me ask my hella gay manager, Reymundo" would have made me feel less like an asshole.
We didn't buy a thing at the Westfield Banana and if I may, I suggest you shop at the Union Square flagship Banana anyway. It's 12 times the size and selection. But that song stayed stuck in my head throughout J. Crew, Zara and the frozen yogurt joint. I continues to drive me nuts, in fact. There's a song out there, an awesome song to add to my repertoire and I'll never know what it is.
And neither will you. Thanks to some skank at Banana...