The roving bands of rain continued into Saturday morning. We woke to a new pot of tea, and by the time we were ready to head into the city for some shopping there was a brighter break in the sky. A fine mist was falling, which is sometimes more annoying than an outright rain, and we paused for some French sustenance from Café Madeleine. Eating our croissants as we walked, ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’-style, we made a wet flaky mess of our shirts, but it was worth it.
A bit of early holiday shopping along Newbury turned into some possible party garb for myself (the usual derailment when trying to buy for other people at the onset of holiday season) but mostly we just did a lot of looking, and some deftly-timed ducking into stores to get out of the rain. The mist had morphed into something decidedly more solid and heavy. Careful what you wish for…
We stopped in Zara to find a raincoat for Kira, but they had the usual line snaking through the entire store and so we nixed the idea of even looking. (That store consistently has the worst register service of any place I’ve been – every single time I walk in there are lines and broken registers that can’t take credit cards and all sorts of nonsense. They’ve lost hundreds of dollars of business from me alone based on this and there is no end in sight to such mismanagement. Sorry, rant finished.)
A few birthday cards were procured from Newbury Comics, but the tricky holiday gift for my brother was not to be found. At Sephora, I sampled the new Tom Ford Private Blend ‘Ombre Leather 16’, and tried again to determine if I liked it as much as the original ‘Tuscan Leather’ but walked away still undecided. A spritz of Atelier’s ‘Oud Saphir’ was equally enticing. Too many choices… all of them delicious. And then it was time for lunch.
It had been some time since either Kira or myself had had a proper burger, so we sought out a pub in the midst and mayhem of tourists and college kids. The rain was picking up and places were starting to fill. Settling on the Met Back Bay, we found two open spaces at the downstairs bar and set up camp while the downpour began in earnest. It was a cozy scene, made more-so by the bonhomie of the brunchers (lots of Bloody Marys were being made in front of us) and the martini in my hand. There is no better place to ride out a rainstorm than a bar. The burger was good too, and we once again found ourselves stalling in the hope that the rain would pass or at least slow to a manageable drizzle. It did, but in its place was a front of cooler air, and brutal winds. Still, I’ll take wind over rain any day. As the afternoon ripened, that wish was delivered in gusts and gales that shook the city. We rushed into the South End, found a bottle of Malbec, and hurried back to the condo.
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