6/13 later on in the evening...

Most people see the flower girl walk into an establishment, not sell anything and then leave.  There’s this false idea that we just walk around and never sell anything. So many people ask me “why would anyone buy flowers at a bar?”  While 99.9999% of people say no thanks, (or some sort of drunken sarcastic rude version of no thanks) some people actually do buy flowers.  And the reasons are endless.  One of my favorite comes from a couple who regularly dines at Sarentos.  They always buy one red rose.  For their cat.  To eat.  Their cat eats roses.  And they’ve tested this so many times that they have found he only eats red ones.  Whatever.  I just take the $6 and move on.   Last week I almost got to add facial hair to the list of reasons that people buy flowers.  This little gem of a hippie was so proud of his beard that wanted to decorate it with a flower. 

He wanted to start a new trend kind of like those clip on charms that you add to those hideous clown looking garden shoes that somehow made it into the mainstream of acceptable foot ware.  I wish I had some mini plumerias, we could have stuck them in all over his mug.  Would certainly look better than the usual hippie beard trappings of bulgar wheat and alfalfa sprouts.  But as most broke hippies go, he didn’t have the extra money to blow on a flower.  I can’t blame him.  Shampoo for that beard alone must rack up a hefty bill.  Do guys shampoo their beards?  They should.

Peace. love and flower power,

The Flower Girl

6/13

Aloha Honolulu,

Where was everybody this last friday night?  Holidays will always baffle us flower girls.  I thought for sure that with the extra day off and plenty of beach time ahead, you would all be ready to start the weekend off with a drunken bash downtown.  But quite the opposite.  I guess the sun took it out of you early.  That didn’t stop a few dedicated barhoppers.  Chinatown, while lacking the usual hords of urban hipsters, irish bar enthusiasts, and culture seekers, was still alive and vibrant.  It wouldn’t be Chinatown without someone in costume.  Friday’s winner was a real life ballerina.  

There is something adorable about a girl in a tutu.  Even if she’s 5’9”, she’s forever six years old and innocent.  I wanted to play tea party with her.  Walking the streets in toe shoes, she and her hunky man dancer, with his chiseled abs and his bulging biceps, stopped for a photo shoot at the park behind Indigo’s.  With spotlight on them and a few of us watching in the background, he positioned her in graceful poses.  Tweaking so slightly her wrist, her hand, her elbow.  I don’t really consider myself a girly girl, but I can only wonder if the reaction is the same for all women.  Wouldn’t it be nice to have a guy swoon over you with so much detail?   Can you also not help fantasizing that if you too wore a tutu, that the hunky man could be yours?  And you’d ride white horses together.  And he would be good at fencing and concocting magic potions.  All that fades fast when the shrill of the homeless man screaming at his hat interrupts my fantasy and I realize that I’m in the nitty gritty center of Chinatown.  And my knight in shining armor won’t be a guy who can duel in the 16th century fashion.  He’ll be a romantic at heart who’s had way too much to drink.  He’ll be eager to impress someone who barely knows his name and he’ll buy my whole basket of flowers so I can go home early.  For a flower girl, that’s a fantasy that can actually come true.  

peace, love and flower power!

-The Flower Girl