Strangers on a Train
by Deborah Oster Pannell
I'm on the Metro North on my way to Manhattan. I'm putting makeup on my face. The woman next to me is reviewing legal briefs.
Afterwards, I put my glasses back on. I laugh, and say out loud to her, “It's always such an adventure seeing what I look like after I've put makeup on without glasses.”
She laughs, “I don't know how you do it on a moving train. I mean, I'm just trying to make these corrections…”
“Oh, you know,” I say, “you just do what you gotta do…”
And I glance sideways at her. She's not wearing makeup. And I think, I don't usually wear makeup either. Why do I “have to” wear it today? And I guess we will remain strangers, for now, anyway.
I hate it when a conversation ends like that. *
Nice creative nonfiction at work here, for sure. I wondered after I finished if the idea of strangers was hinted at anywhere before then and went back searching. I figured afterwards that the entire act of putting on makeup was the "hint" I was looking for after all. Good stuff.
Hardy-esque in a way.
Somehow these few words made me imagine whole lives for these two characters.
Thanks for the great feedback you all!
So -- why does she "have to" wear it today??
Guess I'll never know. (Unless there's a sequel!)
I watched myriads of women putting on make-up on NYC subway trains. I am amazed there aren't more blind women. I once saw a woman on the #2 train at 7AM completely change her clothes, including her underwear in the most discrete, but contorted fashion. Then she did her face.Vanity is a powerful force.*
Roz. This is a very good question. Still working on an answer... and related to your observation, too, Daniel. I susprect it's not pure vanity, but some combination of that plus a deeply ingrained societal pressure for women to look a certain way. It's not one or the other, but I believe some strange hybrid...
You hooked me. Don't get off this train.