rekkidblogga

Palm Beach style

He stepped out of the hulking Chevy Tahoe ahead of me in the drive-thru line this morning looking, I have to admit, immaculate. Totally preppy and knowing how to pull it off: blue button-up collared shirt, crisply ironed; pleated khaki shorts sporting a knit belt with maroon-and-royal blue mallards dotting its circumference; tan moccasins made of real soft leather (replete with tassels). He wore no socks.

Thin, tan and trim, he was the literal J. Crew catalog dad come to life. With a too-graceful ease, he lifted the rear cargo door of the SUV, revealing a packed-to-the-rafters -- but expertly packed, mind you -- vacationer's trunk containing an Eddie Bauer baby stroller, numerous Eddie Bauer canvas luggage bags and a vivid set of floral-printed lime green and white toiletry-type bags, obviously his wife's. Removing something from the Jenga stack in his cargo space, he shut the trunk door and gave me a "Hey, thanks for being cool about waiting on us" little half-wave/point. It wasn't really necessary but it was a nice touch. I noticed his license plate: Florida - Palm Beach County, where Hurricane Katrina had just left flooding and misery among the super rich in her wake.

Pulling up to the window, he took his order - two coffees - from the young black girl working inside the bagel shop, handing her about $4. She gave him his change and he then handed her back $2. Cynic that I've grown to be, I first thought, "Palm Beach style. We know you've got money." And then I realized: It wasn't really necessary but it was a nice touch.

posted by rekkidbraka @ 12:34 PM