04/20/2026
I was minding my own business, walking down the street, when suddenly a flock of flowing caftans appears like a glamorous mirage. Bold prints. Sequins catching the sunlight like disco balls. Statement necklaces the size of dinner plates. And every single one of them radiating the exact same energy: “I have a drink in my hand, and I absolutely will say something inappropriate in the next 30 seconds.”
This was a coordinated effort. A movement. A squad. A company of Helens, if you will.
They moved with confidence. Unbothered. Slightly wine-fueled… I assumed. The air around them smelled faintly of Chardonnay and cheap perfume.
I don’t know where they were going, but I hope it was somewhere fabulous… and I hope Stanley wasn’t invited.
