July 01, 2006

Prada is the name of my Dog

"You're cute. How old are you? She asked.

She wasn't talking to my dog. She was asking me.

I was done restoring the hardwood floors in my apartment before i moved in. The padding and carpet that had coved the wood was hauled away in a pick up truck ealier that day. I had moved in my furniture, and spend the day unboxing my belongings. I took prada with me as i stopped by the grocery store and bought a pint of milk. I needed to move. I needed to change places, so i drove to a store across town. On my way home, there was a crowd downtown. I pulled over and let prada jump out of the back seat. I put on her leash i keep in the jeep. I read it again as she pulled it tight, trotting down the street, between parking meters standing alone and couples holding hands. It read 'Wheat Ridge Animal Hospital: 303- 424-2235'. It reminded me of how many places we had been. It reminded me of where we are, which in turn reminded me of where we were not.

We were stopped in front of the Lafayette Hotel by the woman.

"Well, my dog is 6. I am a bit older." I replied.

Prada sat down and the woman bent down to pet her.

"Well she is cute too." she said.

She continued to pet prada. rather than stand there like a parking meter, i asked her, "What is going on here tonight?"

"It was the Marietta Idol Contest." she said.

"I sang in it."

She stood back up and smiled, and pulled a crumpled pack of Virginia Slims out of her purse. The carton was collapsed and the cigarettes took the shape of her fist, like a bouquet of flowers with the blooms chopped off.

"What did you sing?" I asked.

"Jesus Take the Wheel, and Respect, by Aretha Franklin." she said as she lit a cigarette.

"It's too bad i missed that." I said, with a smile.

"Well, this party is about over." she said, and pointed towards the crowd with her cigarette in her hand like a majorette with a baton in a marching band.

"But they got Karaoke at the Holiday out on the edge of town. You should come. Room 415." she said as she took a drag and smiled at me.

I smiled back, but for a different reason.

"What is your dog' s name?" She asked, before i could bid her goodnight.

"Her name is Prada." i replied.

"You mean like the movie?" she asked back enthusiastically, as if she had found a connection.

"Uh huh." i said, not having a clue what she was talking about.

she could tell.

"The devil's wearin' Prada." she said, as if to acknowledge my confusion, and knelt down beside her new friend on my leash.

"Oh, right." I said.

"Like the movie."

Prada looked at me with chagrin in her dark eyes.

If I had patience, i would have let my thoughts leave my mouth.

I would have told her 'the movie' is really about 'a book' which makes reference to 'a fashion label' which is in reference to a woman's surname, which, in turn is from a family company that started almost 100 years ago in milan italy.

If i had or interest, I would have told her also that the movie had just been released, and my dog was 6 years old.

I might have continued by telling her book was published a few years ago, and my dog was still 6 years old.

If i didn't want to risk any interaction that would lead to another invitation to the Holiday Inn, I could have told her that at the time of prada's birth, the brand did back an italian sailing team in 2000, and that i did like the notion of adventuresome solidarity in racing in the open ocean, and perhaps that could have influenced me in my naming decision.

If i truly believed my thoughts were worth anything standing there in front of the Lafayette Hotel, i would have told her we all assume with ever little question, conventions that have been piled upon and upon each other through time until the meaning and the purpose has been covered up with more timely, more palatable, and more accommodating interpretations. like rumors passed around a school yard, like carpet over hardwood floors. covering up what is often much more simple, much less dramatic, much more solid , and most always, much more beautiful.

I would have told her that beauty is so easy to loose. I would have told her there are many great things that have books, and movies, and labels, and brands piled upon and upon them, that puts distance between me and the simple and beautiful truths i look so hard to find.

Or i could have told her I named my dog for none of that.

and that I named her for Radha, a beautiful woman of Indian folklore and Hindu religion, depicted with great fondness and reverence in Vedic artwork. She was a simple girl who captured the heart of the divine. Her story parallels that of the Virgin Mary in her role in Hindu culture and her story epitomizes pure beauty in art and unconditional love; and her name bears only a similar resemblance because i was sleeping in my 8:00 am art history class in college and mistook my professor when he named her. 'R's' and 'P's' sound the same when you are barely awake in a soft chair in a dark lecture hall.

Once the final exam came, i missed that answer on the test. But prada had been born. and Prada had been named.

My milk was getting warm.

I said goodbye to the Marietta Idol, and left her with the parking meters, and smoking under the Layfeyeette awning and went home.

I sat on a box on the hardwood floor, with prada beneath my feet. I drank my milk. I peeled the label away from the plastic jug.

And I admired the solid simple beauty at my feet. And wished for more of the same in my head.

And for pickup truck to haul away all the rest.

Posted by Todd Roeth at July 1, 2006 11:04 AM