A visit to a certain town in (post) industrial Cape Breton never fails to yield something to set your teeth on edge...or to offer serious comic relief. Yes, in this part of the world where it can take three months to get your car fixed and even longer to get a plumber to make a house call, without fail every time I'm there the subject for a multi-layered piece of writing arises. The only trouble is getting down to committing the substance to paper. A story a minute, in this place--and the one presently gripping my imagination comes from the name of a new store located across from the grassed-over mine and the No Frills grocery store and the (lifeblood of the community) liquor commission.
What Women Want, it's called. Housed in a former butcher shop (I think but could be very wrong) or possibly a bake shop, it's a brick bunker of a building with thick, padlocked shutters and, on a cheery note, a row of pretty molded Adirondack chairs out front. Set between two dirt parking lots, the store is an upscale souvenir shop designed (I think) to appeal to the tourist trade, the bus tour crowd, perhaps, who frequent that other, more picturesque town 30 miles away, made famous by Alexander Graham Bell and his Silver Dart.
Cupid, draw back your bo-o-ow!
(But I digress--only slightly). Given its name, does the store specialize in, well, loooove? Things romantic?
The name connotes pampering, self-indulgence (the good kind that all of us are supposed to hanker for) and, well, in short, the stuff that girly dreams are made of.
Inside is a veritable cornucopia of potpourri, kitchen kitsch, semi-upscale knick-knacks and bath items. Some of the merch is rather appealing, but, being a Frenchy's shopper, I'm not a very reliable source/critic here.
But I love the name, and it drew me in--as I'm sure it has and will others.
So, what do women want?
As a couple of Facebook friends have pointed out, the shop-owner (presumably female) could use some more letters for her day-glo sign.
But on a more serious note, what do we want?
World peace. An easy winter. Paying work. Food for all. Clean air. Clean water. The bugs to stop eating our plants. More people to appreciate the power of the printed and electronic word, and of stories. Our stories. Good walking companions, dogs welcome. Non-picking cats. Silence, sometimes. Rain in rain-barrels. Raspberries on canes. Fresh sheets of paper. A new pen. A car or bike that only takes you where you want to go. A bike path with no hard hills. Lots of trees, flowers, bushes, and not a lot of grass. Good rocks. Red wine, preferably Italian. Goat cheese, and gorgonzola. Tomatoes. And right up there with the air and water, kindred women to talk to.
And this is just barely scratching the surface. My surface. How about yours?
- A writer, mother, teacher, friend, I love books, blizzards and beaches, music from Hildegard von Bingen to the Beatles to Bonnie Raitt to The Brood; I love medieval churches, red wine, creme caramel, and roasted beets, and walking the woods and coastlines of home.