Zoot Suit Man

Zoot Suit Man

 Looking in the mirror at all the perfectly symmetrical features that made me what one would call flawless beauty, I squeezed the arms of my gold upholster Georgian Mahogany Chair. This was a family air loom passed down to me from four generations of women whose goal in life was only to stay pretty. The Stafford Trophy Wife would be a better fit for the description. I pressed down on my chair lifting my body weight up 2 inches while leaning over the many arrays of makeup brushes and a plethora of Besame Cosmetic lipsticks. I glanced at the features that I disliked, my flaws. I needed to make sure that my makeup was perfectly applied, from my rosy cheeks to my Black Cake Mascara. I admired my hair and the patterns of black waves that embraced my scalp, as I applied my pearl pins, one on each side.  I wiped my hands across my Mahogany Vanity’s slick and smooth surfaces and embraced the gold knobs which gave this wood elegance.

“Evangeline, Gal what are you doing up here! We need to hurry up before we miss all the eligible strapping bachelors. “This is going to be the party of a decade,” My Sista Ava said bending over and placing her hand out in an “How do you do posture”.

“Aww Ava, stop with yo nonsense child, and you look stunning might I add,” I laughed as I watched her lay on my Olive-green Claxton upholstered chair, acting as if she fainted.

Ava would be what one would call dramatic. She was 2 years my senior, but somehow everyone always thought I was older. She was dressed in an off-the-shoulder sparkly gold Sheath Sleeveless dress, which hugged her beautiful hourglass figure.

“I know, I was born stunning, and you look breathtaking with your red painted lips, in that red sequin revealing dress, not to mention that high slit! I could see momma’s face now.

 “For red is the color of a harlot Vangie, and you ain’t got no shame child.”

“Well, it’s 1945 and momma only knew how to cook and clean and cater to our big belly daddy!

“You ain’t neva lied. I am glad to see you feeling better since you have not gotten any romantic love letter from Walter, who was drafted suddenly in the blink of an eye off to war. The tale of an epic romance,” she said while prancing around me and grabbing our coats off the stand-still oak coat rack.

“I had enough of your shenanigans Come on, let go,” I grabbed Ava, and we went out in the warm muggy air of summertime Mobile.

Mardi Gras

“Charles man, you gone stand here all evening watching these floats, I want to see some fine ladies, let’s go on down to the juke joint and here some Ella and Duke and Jam out brotha,” Collen said snapping his fingers, then tossing his hat up into the air catching it in his other hand.

Collen’s face was as pale as the moon, and his hair was as orange as a carrot. He was dressed in his black pinstripe suit and his Royce Longwing black shoes. Collen was especially sweet on the brown sistas.

“Come on Collen, listen to the sounds of the band’s horns blaring, the drums, and the “tat, tat, boom! Look at the Fat Tuesday Floats riding through the streets, painted in color beads, moon pie wrappers, and smiling faces. Look up at the Cypress Trees that lean in and embrace the heart of downtown. Welcome to America’s original birthplace of the Mardi Gras Mobile, Alabama,” I said sipping on my 1945 vintage whisky that I swished around in my aluminum flask.

“Give me some of that Whiskey, so you mean to tell me you came out dressed in your red Zoot Suit to look at moon pie wrappers man? Come on man, give me a break!” Collen laughed grabbed the moon pie wrapper and waived it in my face.

A Sight for a Thousand Eyes

As Collen continued to talk, the sound of his voice and the sounds of the crowd and the air full of happiness turned to a low-pitched decibel.

I’d just laid eyes on the most beautiful creature that walked the planet. As she got out the 1945 Jaguar Mark IV, which was coated in black and red trim and just as beautiful as her, I studied her. Her beautiful waved black hair and chocolate long exquisite legs while painted in a red dress had me feeling like Pepé Le Pew. She was my Penelope Pussy Cat. All I needed was one eye contact from her. She stood there smoking her cigarette from her black and white cigarette holder.

“Ooooo wee, what a fox! Do you see them two ladies over there, na brother, that’s what I’m talking about, “Collen shouted as his mouth dropped wide open, and his eyes seemed to pop out like a cartoon character.

 I began to shrug my shoulders to the trombone as she swayed her hips to the drums.

“Hey Brotha, move out the way and watch yo step!” a man dressed in costume yelled over the bit, boom, bang! I just kept dancing through crowds in the street, never taking my eyes off the lady in red. 

 “Hey man, you are jamming, na!” The trombone player said to me while laughing and tipping the brim of his glittery purple top hat. 

“Naw, man, I got my eye on this beautiful miss, you see, right there in the red. Hey Mr. Trombone, why don’t you share that bass horn of yours,” I said while snapping my fingers to the band's erotic sound.

 “Yea man, go ahead and blow that jam!”  I blew her like I had never blown a horn before. I blew her up to the moon and stars that lit up Canal Street. I could see out of the corner of my eyes that she was rather impressed by my horn blowing.

“Man, you make me jealous. You got my horn cheating on me. You better play that Jam na! Oh yeah, and I think she is watching you brotha. I know she is listening so keep on blowing!

“Aww man, I appreciate it.” I thanked the top hat man as he moved along with his band.

She and I stood there, across from each other on the opposite side of the street with only a parade separating us.

“Hey Collen, do me a smooth favor brotha, could you run down a couple of blocks and let me know when this here parade is ova?” I asked him as I continued to dance to the lady in Red and I Chemistry’s song.

“I got ya man, and I promise not to get sidetracked and turn into the juke joint!” He laughed while running away backward.

Evangeline

“Look Vangie, that ole handsome gentleman in that Zoot Suit played that horn just for you baby,” My sister leaned over and whispered in my ear over the crowd’s excitement.

“I’ve been watching him, and I shall wish I was that I was that beautiful brass horn he was blowing ever so hard,” I said putting out my long cigarette on the side of the old brick wall. I swayed my hips and he and I moved to the same melody.

He bowed and let his hand out as an invention. His hazel eyes began to sway me in his direction as I began to move toward him waving my arms in the air. It was like the people magically parted as the earth’s melodic gravity drew us closer together.

I could see his strong biceps through the inner patching of his suit as the Mardi Gras Mambo played into the clear night sky. His body painted in pecan tan shinned in the lighted street lanterns that lit up the parade pathway. Before I knew it we were face to face with one another. I could smell his old spice after shaving. I studied his every intricate detail like one would study a Van Gogh painting masterpiece. I place my hands on his chest to feel the details of his very existence which beat through the soul of his heartbeat.

“You are quite a sight for sore eye woman. What is your name Madam?” he asked me in his deep Baritone voice.

“My name is,”

“Evangeline, baby is that you?”

Behind Trombone Man there was Walter standing there in his Army uniform decorated with badges of honor.