A Femme Era: October 1986

Freddie was my roommate at the Aetna Casualty claims school in Hartford.  He was black but sounded white.  Like he was from Texas -  which he was.  He called me "buddy" and "pardnuh." Talked about golf and bass fishing nonstop.   We were in a recently constructed dorm called Aetna University which sat directly across the ersatz 18th century corporate headquarters. 

Every Friday at 4:30 PM, we stood at our window and watched the female employees flood out the front doors of what looked like a giant Ethan Allen.  Oddly enough, there was amazing diversity for an insurance company in Hartford.  And there were beautiful women...which is why we were standing there in the first place.

I leaned towards the women I thought were "put together."  Freddie liked the sluts.  I'm not sure if that's a Texas thing as much as a golf and bass fishing thing. Either way, Freddie's aesthetic didn't extend much beyond big tits and a high tide butt.  It didn't take long for each of us to understand the other's taste and point out what we thought the other might appreciate.

ME

(pointing)

There ya go, Freddie. Massive hooters in a maroon pant suit at three o'clock.

FREDDIE

Little rough even for me, buddy.   Cheap dye job and nail extensions.

ME

You didn't know what nail extensions were until I told you.

FREDDIE

When's your girl get here?  Eleven o'clock -- Coming down the sidewalk.

ME

Too much makeup. Around six I think.

FREDDIE

Mystic should make for a  nice weekend. Ever been?  How about that senorita crossing the street?

ME

 Face is too squished in. Never been.  How 'bout, Jackie?

FREDDIE

You mean in our class?

ME

Yeah, she's in Tulsa. I bet she fishes.

FREDDIE

She bites her nails.  Can't stand that. Here ya go.. parking lot.  Green top...

ME

There's worse things than biting nails, Freddie. What green top?

FREDDIE

It's like a green jacket. She's got a scarf on.

ME

The blonde in the paisley skirt?

FREDDIE

That's the one, pardnuh.

ME

Cute walk.  She looks like...

FREDDIE

Doris Day.

ME

I was gonna say my girlfriend. 

FREDDIE

That's right up your wheelhouse. Go on down and say, hey.

ME

Freddie...

FREDDIE

Yeah?

ME 

That is my girlfriend.

FREDDIE

No shit.

ME

Yep.

FREDDIE

That's like passing some kind'a weird ass test, pardnuh.

Ethan Allen 1974

"Not as good as it was..."

Unless we're talking about 1974. When was it in the 70's that vulgar became such a popular choice? Nik Nik shirts, bozo the clown bow ties, leisure suits, harvest gold appliances, rust shag carpet, turquoise jewelry and the Pacer. I've often speculated the Soviets introduced an experimental drug via a popular U.S. soft drink. Instead of streets filled with our own citizens screaming, "Die capitalist war mongers!" we got Cheese. I assume the Soviets ran out of money and had to rush the drug into production and all of America fell in love with Ethan Allen and Kitsch.

I hear the company is in financial trouble. That's amazing. I'd have thought they went outta business 30 years ago.

I remember these living room suites growing up in the south. Wall to wall carpet with tiny, machine made Persian rugs scattered everywhere and a matching suite of furniture with art work bought from the same Ethan Allen store. A look sans any character or personality. As cold as the air conditioning in an Atlanta mall.

One thing concerns me...his suit. I swear those are hacking pockets on his suit jacket. A slanted pocket, it just happens to be a favorite detail of mine. I shudder at the thought but I drank a lot of Coca Cola in the 70's.