My beautiful laundrette

https-::s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.comA few weeks ago I was strolling along our local shopping strip. We live in an inner city, lowish rent area, though it’s rapidly becoming trendy. There are lots of interesting people in our neighbourhood, as is about to become evident.

As I passed the laundromat, I happened to glance in. A young woman, who had walked in as I approached, was stripping to her bra and panties. She then put her clothes in one of the machines and sat down to read a magazine.

I wondered, had she just spilt something on her clothes and it was too far to go home?

Did she have no other clothes? She seemed rather too well-kempt and cheerful, for that to be the case.

Perhaps she regularly undressed in the laundromat. I was once picking up my dry cleaning, elsewhere, when a fellow hurried in, collected a suit and half a dozen shirts, then stripped off in the carpark and dressed for work. I asked the woman behind the counter “Does that happen often?” She replied “Every day.”

The girl in the laundromat was certainly quite unselfconscious, which was a refreshing observation. People spend too much time and money on clothing, make-up, accessories, piercings and tattoos, to present a persona to the world. I rather enjoy deconstructing the projected image by imagining strangers naked, say riding in the train or drinking in a bar.

I admired the young lady’s pluck.

 

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