You know what expression I hate? “Credit crunch.” It sounds like a cereal you would eat to lose weight (like my beloved Kashi, that I round out with at least three other daily meals of chocolate, cheese and pasta).
We’re not in a credit crunch. We’re paying for an environment that encouraged people to get approved for mortgages they shouldn’t have in the first place. That were created, funded, traded, sold, eaten, smoked, worn, held and auctioned off by the behemoth global financial institutions that are now currently self-combusting. The mortgage companies were laying thousands of people off two years ago. Lehman is the latest player to go down in a subprime ball of flames. And it’s really depressing. And I feel bad for the people out of work the same way I feel bad for the dry cleaners that will lose all their blue oxford shirt and khakis business. These are boom times for only two businesses: box manufacturers (because what else can you hold your personal belongings in when you’re exiting the building for the last time) and bankruptcy lawyers. Bravo, Weil Gotshal. At least someone was popping champagne on Monday.
Amidst the dire news and our plunging stock portfolio, my friend Mira yesterday uploaded some old photos to Facebook. And this caused its own Monday excitement. A testament to the pull of growing up in Arlington County, and the impact of Facebook, is that within minutes of the photos appearing, almost half the individuals in Mr. Durrer’s 1984(?) combined 3rd/4th grade gifted & talented class at Key Elementary posted a comment.
My brother Josh is in the top left-hand corner. And if you see the loudest only-yellow outfit that appears to have been brought back by my mother from some Caribbean island jaunt, you will note that the girl contained inside is me. I cannot believe how fashion-forward I was.
Ditto for the neckscarves in the next photo with Mira & Becky. If they look familiar it’s because you just saw them debuted recently at Fashion Week. It wasn’t easy to be so fashionably avant-garde. Which is why I left the cutthroat world of child-modeling to pursue a powerful and fulfilling career in changing-my-industry-and-job-every-two-years. They have a degree for that you know. It’s called Political Science.