Apollo wears Ray Bans

With the bless-ed dawn of spring comes crowning crocuses, jacketless afternoons and, everyone's favorite: spring cleaning. For me, this means searching all pockets, purses and pouches for my favorite pair of designer sunglasses. I use the term designer loosely, as I purchase pairs of Ralph's, BCBG's, or March Jacobs' at such places as TJMaxx or Marshall's. I'm all for "dress for less." Sure, they're last season, or even the season before that, but I live in Utah. In reality, if I buy myself a pair of last season's shades, I'm really ahead of the game). Each spring As I delve into my handbag, I come up empty handed, surrendering to the Sunshine Gods and the bottomless abysses that are my bag collection. I drive off in my car, sun rays gleaming and streaming as my eyes squint to see the road stretched out before me.

It was Monday last when I found myself seeking shade from the late afternoon sun which bopped along I-215 as I headed home. I decided to hit up one of my ritualistic "Dress For Less" stores in search of last season's shades (at more than half the price!)

I walked inside ready for the mission at hand. As I approached the turnstile, my heart sank. No Ralph. No Oscar. No Nine West. And no BCBG Max Azaria. Slim pickins indeed. Facing the reality that I was possibly a week late in the hunt, I decided I could do one of two things: arrive home with burned retina (and future wrinkle lines around my eyes -gasp!), or purchase a below-average, not-so flattering pair of sunglasses and arrive safe and sound, my brown eyes no worse for the wear. I began to sift through the measly selection.

I walked towards the counter, holding a pair of so-so silver-rimmed glasses. I handed them over to the clerk who didn't bother to de-activate or remove the sensor. Apparently these sunglasses weren't going to be missed. As I walked towards the door, I prepared for the sound of the alarm, and a signal from him that I was in the clear. No alarm. The sensor wasn't even activated in the first place. These glasses were even less spectacular that I had thought.

I jumped in the car ready to go, tugging at the price tag as I put my car in reverse. It wouldn't budge. Nor would the sensor, which, I should have mentioned, is conveniently and comfortably placed right between the nose. As if finding a flattering pair isn't hard enough, add that lovely adornment, and, voila! You look like a dinosaur. (So much for last season's look, now you're positively prehistoric!) I kept at it as I drove closer and closer to the freeway entrance. Fingers red and swollen, I gave up and shoved the lenses up my nose, sensor and all. I looked ridiculous. To make matters worse, the sensor's clumsy placement made for quite the visual obstruction. I felt like a little kid trying to prove I could go cross-eyed.

Certain that I'd rather keep my brown eyes sun-free than cause a collision, I continued to drive, shades in place. I was a mobile fashion faux pas, driving the Interstate at 70 mph. I could almost see Apollo, up there in his Ray Bans, laughing at me. I cranked up the music, and as I hummed along the Interstate, my mind wandered.

"Officer, I can explain. You see, it was either these or no glasses at all, and while these are so last season (killer aviators, by the way) and ugly at that, something was better than nothing and this is all they had. I know it looks like I stole them. But, I didn't. I wouldn't." The sensor would rattle with each side-to-side head shake, making me seem even more pathetic. He'd have no pity on me in my plight, and say, "Please step out of the car, ma'am."

Then, he'd cuff me, and haul me to the slammer, so-so shades and all. At least the silvery-gray rims of my shades would compliment my new black-and-white uniform, and I'm sure there's some Macgyver-like thief who could free me from the sensor using only a piece of dental floss. I can also rest assured that no one will steal my non-existent last season Ralph Lauren's while I catch some Z's between games of Texas Hold 'em.

Ah, such a bright future. Sure glad I bought those shades.