SURFING MAG AND STAB MAG'S FAVORITE SON, CHAS SMITH, SHARES HIS WORDS ON WWW.GLOBESURF.TV
11:12 am Apr 14, 2010

ChasSmith.tv

She was scrunching her eyes, so cutely, trying to see if the pattern was what she thought. Black hair perfectly askew. Red fingernails clinking crystal stemwear holding the last of a fabulous red from Vosne-Romanee. The sulfites and whatnot. She came in closer, scrunched eyes and whatnot. “Are those…” “Yes” I cut her off. “They are. Shakkas. Hundreds of small purple shakkas.” She whistled low. “I thought I was seeing things. Swore I was seeing things. I’ll tell you, though, I have met some of the world’s best dressed men on this train.” Her voice was a honeyed Australian mixed with Portuguese. She opened another bottle and poured me some. Her eyes were now wide and swallowing me.

I looked down at my sweater. It really was a piece of art. Globe called it the “Shakka zip hood” which made sense on two levels. There were hundreds of purple shakkas and it was a zip hood. But the name didn’t necessarily capture its essence. Its élan. I would have called it “Shakkas on Wool 1. A Study in Contrast.”

The train pulled into Cannes station. She got off before me and looked back once before turning down Rue d’Antibes. Her legs were the color of caramel and the soles of her heels the color of rose.


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