Usually it’s women who buy from the feather shop, sometimes accompanied by tolerant men schlepping backpacks. But every so often a guy comes in, usually to buy a present, and as someone who’s never really experienced guys shopping before, their efficiency in impressive. Guy comes in, I’ll take that one, guy goes out.
The other day we had this massive bearded dude, 6’3 linebacker style, walk right in and declare in a gruff baritone “My fairy wings didn’t arrive in time. I need some backup wings.” We offered a massive pair of feathered green wings; he tried them on (tiny) and said “A little high in the back, but I’ll take ‘em.” On his way out, by way of clarification, he said “I’m Tankerbelle.”
I love the goths, I love the middle-aged street-clothes ladies trying something different, I LOVE the little kids, but Tankerbelle will always hold a special place in my heart.
(I spotted him a few weeks later and got the pic; pleased to see he was still rocking our wings rather than what he’d ordered earlier!)
amhrancas 