I was once in a bathroom in a Cleveland gas station when I stumbled upon a lady crying over the sink. Ladies who cry in bathrooms are generally the ones you want to talk to— they’ve got some good stories. They also generally have a great shade of lipstick in their purses, so if yours is running or fading, you can offer a shoulder to cry on in exchange for several swipes of that color. You won’t be copying them because lipstick looks different on everybody. This is basic color theory.
This heuristic is especially true in a city like Cleveland, where basically everything smells like urine anyway, so you might as well hang out in gas station bathrooms with pretty people.
I asked her what was the matter. She told me that she couldn’t find a swimsuit to accommodate her 13 inch waist to hip difference. I said: “girl, make the swimsuit accommodate YOU.”
She was about to walk across the stage in the Miss Cleveland pageant, so she needed to have a swimsuit that fit her. So I took mine out of my bag— a one piece!— and cut the hips out so they would fit her.
She won the pageant even though her mom wasn’t there to see it. She was in California or Santa Fe or Beirut; I do not recall. But it didn’t matter, because she was shining like the medium dipper anyway.