Wotchoo lookin’ at?

I love winter in Cape Town. It’s true that the kitchen door gets jammed a lot and people tend to drive like lobotomised politicians on crack, but at least everyone smells better+. Another great advantage to the wet weather is that it keeps the early-morning laundry club indoors.

Not that I have anything against people hanging laundry++ – it’s the weird pre-7 a.m. dress code that I find vaguely unsettling. It consists of the following:

  • Moth-eaten, fluffy slippers (compulsory)
  • Saggy, faded tracksuit bottoms (optional)
  • Ancient cotton sleep shirt with picture of putridly cute fuzzy kitten on it (compulsory)
  • Terrycloth bathrobe (extremely compulsory)
  • Curlers (optional, but recommended)

Originally, it was only The Bat who dressed like this, but she’s older than the written word and really doesn’t give a crap what we youngsters (i.e. anyone who has yet to celebrate their eightieth birthday) think. However, it seems to have caught on in a big way with the others in the block.

I think the part that bothers me the most isn’t that most of my neighbours choose to wander around the complex dressed like mental patients. Rather, it’s the fact that when I leave for work and happen to encounter one of these pioneers of the New Grunge movement, my amiable salutations are met with much malevolent glaring and clawlike clutching of the abovementioned robe.

Maybe I missed the body corporate meeting where they passed the resolution about terrycloth imparting invisibility on the wearer.

+ Yes, we’re all concerned about the ozone layer, but there are limits, dammit!
++ After all, it is another contributor to people smelling better


27 thoughts on “Wotchoo lookin’ at?

  1. After reading the fluffy slippers I thought you were spying on me but the rest of the ensemble is not me… unless there is a fag hanging out the mouth.

    *sigh* Now I have to hang up the washing AND look over my shoulder.


  2. Is seems that the seething masses of the great unwashed have chosen The Bat as their Great Oracle on the Spin Cycle imparting her age old, wash-day wisdom.

    Go forth, live humble, wear faded polyester and sin no more’

    M…Could Cayennetology possibly be under threat?


  3. You’re not supposed to notice. It’s bad form. Just pretend like there’s nothing there. Right now you’re the kid going “I see pajama people, walking around and talking like normal people”. Put those blinkers on. Or dress like they do, it sounds comfortable 😉


  4. If you can’t handle an unsightly robe and some soiled slippers, be happy you don’t live opposite Gavin, who thinks the outfit de rigeur for collecting his Cape Times from the front verandah at 06:30 is his birthday suit, no more, no less.
    I’ve taken to diving into the shrubbery as I exit the house for work each morning, then leopard crawling along the wall to the drive way, before leaping into the relative safety of my car, eyes averted downwards at all times, of course.
    I do not dispute for a moment that the male form is a thing of beauty, but really I’d like to choose which male form I amconfronted with, and when as well, thank you. Gavin and his crack of dawn* routine doesn’t really do it for me.

    * yes, there’s that too, he doesn’t walk backwards into the house after picking up the paper, now does he?


  5. katt: I wouldn’t worry about it. One of the perks of living near the arse end of the world is that you can pretty much wear what you like, because there’s nobody to see you.
    xGW: Nothing in life is certain. I will meditate upon this.
    jeanpant: Don’t be ridiculous! My PJs have ducks on them, not kittens.
    revo: That’s poetic, man. Disturbing, but lyrical. You should be writing advertising jingles.
    chewey: I’m sure it’s comfortable, although it might scare the people at work if I showed up at the office looking like that.
    parenthesis: We only have one rule here: comments need to be shorter than the actual post


  6. Pingback: Morning Glory? « The Space Between Words

  7. Isn’t she the one who had giant underwear? Or maybe that was a co-worker of yours. Anyway, all you need to truly do is get in your car to become invisible. People cut you off and pull out right in front of you nonstop. Now, if you add terrycloth AND curlers, you’re probably inching toward superhuman powers.


  8. Let’s just hope this lunatic bunch keep their New Grunge attire to the morning laundry ritual (and that the rain keeps up)… would hate for this bad taste and terrycloth-robe-clutching-glaring attitude to spill over to the rest of the day… unless, of course, it was my boss wearing that. I’d have no problem pretending he was invisible.


  9. ahaha! As I’ve said before – I think – are you sure you’re not living in my apartment block? Between Mrs Goldberg (who sounds suspiciously like The Bat..it’s almost uncanny), and Mrs Abdul who hangs 8 000 sheets up outside my window, I’m connecting the dots here, Kyk.

    Pop in for a cuppa sometime will ya?


  10. livewire: If you also consider my ability to write invisible reports, I’m beginning to wonder whether I exist at all. Maybe I’m just imagining myself.
    ant: I’m pretty sure most of them dig out the old power suit before starting the daily commute.
    peas: While you have PMS? I may be unbalanced, but I’m not completely insane.


  11. I am happy (and relieved) to report that I am far more upmarket than your neighbours. My slippers aren’t fluffy. You’re obviously in the wrong Southern Suburb. However, I do tend to wear them all day long in summer, even while gardening, so I guess I lose points for that.


  12. Moth-eaten, fluffy slippers, an ancient cotton sleep shirt, terrycloth bathrobe and curlers? All that’s missing is the cigarette dangling from the corner of the mouth (preferably Peter Stuyvesant or Rothmans)
    Are you sure you’re not from Germiston?


  13. poor kyk… that you should be subjected to terry cloth and dirty looks in the morning… and thats not even from someone who lives with you!!!!
    slippers i can live with- in winter i go everywhere in mine (the last pair were fluffy purple with a silver star on the front)! the furthest i’ll go beyond that is to leave a towel on my wet hair.


  14. mjw: Zap! Minus ten million points. You are the weakest link. G’dbye.

    chitty: I shall meditate upon this, also.

    angel: Oh nooooo! You’re already halfway there. Fight it!

    ol’ hoss: And that’s a superlative comment, Hoss.

    peas: True, but “beat me” isn’t quite the same as “rip my head off and shit down my throat”.


  15. Why do people smell better in winter? Sure, there might be less B.O., but what about the smell of mould?


  16. i suggest a calendar… Miss(for)June can be The Bat. Bag it in FHM (under homegrown tannies). The outcry will result in a “i’d rather go naked… campaign”. and the world will know: Kyknoord brought sexy back.


  17. pwpoisson: Charming. The Labour Act really needs to incorporate harsher penalties for olfactory harassment.

    peas: That might go some way towards explaining the bloated feeling.

    anicker: On the other hand, it might also spark an outbreak of self-inflicted eye injuries.


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