by Meredith Cole
So a typical night out would consist of her meeting up with friends at a restaurant. They’d start at a bar. Most of the bars in Williamsburg have been decorated to look dark and divey. Her friends would be late, so she would spend some time nursing her drink and checking out the scene.
The best part of people watching in Williamsburg is the outfits or costumes that people wear. There is a certain hipster uniform (skinny pants, trucker hats for men, boots, long scarves) that can at times seem monotonous. But there are also wonderfully weird outfits that people put together.
Tonight there is a woman with a giant furry purse shaped like a log clutched under her arm. She’s wearing a tiny hat with ostrich feathers pinned to her upswept hair. Her companion is wearing a plaid jacket that looks like it belongs to someone 40 years older, a skinny tie, and his hair has been moussed to look like he just rolled out of bed.
The waitress is dressed like Morticia Adams, even though it is months after Halloween. Her lipstick and fingernail polish are black, and her long straight hair has been dyed black. Actually, there is not a single thing on her body that is anything but black.
Several people have brought their dogs in. One is a tiny and is being carried on its owner’s tummy in a doggy Bjorn. His little legs are sticking straight out and he looks mortified. Another is a large pit bull mix that is sprawled under several chairs. His eyes follow all the action and he is no doubt waiting for a tasty tidbit to fall. The waitress has to step over him every time she carries drinks to a table.
There’s an art show on the walls but it’s way too dark to make out any of the details. She thinks the pieces might be paintings of fruit. Then again, they might be pornographic.
Next to her, two guys are debating the merits of the new iPhone versus the old iPhone. They look unwashed and like they could either be homeless or members of some kind of ironic band. Instead, she figures out from their conversation that they’re both creatives at an advertising agency.
The couple on the other side of her is mumbling to each other. She can barely make it out over the music, but she thinks they might be arguing about money. People with don't seem to work but live high off the hog in her neighborhood are called trustafarians.
At last her friends arrive and they giggle together over the purse and doggy Bjorn. The rest of the outfits and characters in the bar are unremarkable. And if there's going to be a murder in the bar tonight, none of them see it coming.