So- I look around at the early commuters all desperately trying to cling onto some personal space and notice some familiar faces. Not necessarily familiar to me, but I'm sure if anyone else has been on public transport you've seen these people too.
Women are definitely the more interesting specie, and much more fun to watch.
My gaze lands on a twenty something brunette- clearly still a firm believer that hitting the sack before 1am is the epitome of UNCOOL, regardless of how early her start is.
She sits there yawning, clutching a latte, all tired eyes and thick mascara, already praying for the day to come to a close, so that she can do it all over again.
To the left of her is the 'I just turned 30, and after a hundred failed relationships I am still a single woman'- she is scribbling something in her wacky patterned note book, and with a flourish has just removed the sixth pen I've seen in 20 minutes. Each one has been pink and fluffy, they all sprinkle glitter, and potentially magic, and are all supposed to highlight how cute and feminine she is. She keeps looking out the corner of her eye to the pale, exhausted form which is the 20 something woman to her right, her mind battling with itself about her unthoughtful seating arrangements- I can almost hear them, "honestly Janie! Of all the seats on all the tubes, you would bloody sit next to a fucking teenager?!!- You'll never find a man if you continue flaunting your old age in public!"
Standing above her is the careless teen, 17 years old, a body like a Maserati, which she has of course decided to drape in 'vintage' rags and rusting silver jewellery. Her music is loud, and her clothes are purposely falling apart, luckily the gift of youth allows her to pull it off.
On one of the single seats sits a woman in an immaculate mac, typing furiously on her Blackberry. All the women in the office hate her because she is beautiful and fabulous and carries either a Mulberry or a Chanel handbag. She is lonely though, none of the woman like her, and all the men want to sleep with her- as for settling down, she'd like to but for some reason something about her power pencil skirt, stiletto heels and high paid job makes the weird lady from floor 6 who thinks bathing is an unnecessary luxury a more attractive bride.
There is the shy one, the loud one, the one who wears vests all year round, the mother of three who hasn't applied a lick of mascara since the birth of her first child (who is now 22), and a couple of librarians thrown into the mix, all beautiful and wonderful in their own way....
The men are a lot easier to group- aside from the occasional sprinkling of flair, Ed Hardy who disappears down the escalators, VA-G who slips through the doors, Forreduci who's hidden behind The Metro- they are usual grouped by suit colour. There is the one in the black suit, the one in the dark grey suit, the one in the navy blue suit, the one in the dark grey suit with black pinstripe- they've all already faded into one for me, God I'm glad I'm a woman- even if I turn out to be the 30 year old with the pens.
Which one are you?
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