My wife Miska met a friend for coffee this week. They sat at a cafe table outside while a man in a white fedora passed them, back and forth, multiple times. He would go into the barber shop next door, only to exit a few minutes later and cruise near the ladies, giving them a smile or word. The fedora man would then repeat. He was working it.
On a final pass, he paused to slide Miska a note on a yellow post-it, a note addressed to "Foxy Lady."
I'd like to punch the guy in the face. I'd also like to shake his hand.
While I suggest he raise his fedora enough to clear his vision for a good look at things such as wedding rings, I appreciate his brazen courage. I of all men understand the beauty he encountered. The poor fellow didn't stand a chance.
4 Replies to “Foxy Lady”
Perfect! What a fun story and a lovely tribute to a foxy lady, from the man who truly adores her.
yes, you’ve got that right. I do adore Miska.
“Foxy lady”? Who talks like that? Jimi Hendrix? Ron Burgundy? 😉
Did Hendrix wear a fedora?