Still on Colfax, Still in Love

A bit of a hiatus, but I'm still here, and still living next to Colfax Avenue, with all its wonders, part of the longest highway in the country and passing through the most diverse part of our weirdly diverse state. 

It's our normal beautiful blue sky red-leaves Indian Summer, the period after the first snow where we catch a few weeks to a month that is as lovely as late Spring, with cool fresh breezes and rustling of small things in the wind.

My husband and I are pleased with the variety of outfits worn by the fellow who catches the bus near my work; all thin, shiny, polyester suits, and all in a range of colors from sunshine yellow to emerald green, glittering powder blue to orange and red plaid.  He tucks the cuffs of his pants into his white socks with their thin blue or orange rim lines, above his worn white sneakers.

This week walking back from the dentist I came across a scooter reinvented as a shrine, lined with artificial roses in pinky-orange over an orange and cream checkerboard across the sides, with the front of the scooter bordered in a great rectangle of orange and pink roses around a one foot by two foot portrait of a lady - a picture that looked like a painting, with a dark background and woman's maternal visage perhaps from the fifties.

Splashy, colorful, individualistic pop sentiment like this, crossing cultural borders from around the world, is all the rage in the city the past few years.  Sass, humor and creativity are the chic thing of the moment, and it's a pleasing cultural moment.