A bevy of old broads

 I read in some shelter mag that an interior designer for his seriously wealthy clients was taken aback when they told him to stop buying Pratesi towels and get the Macy's Hotel Collection because they were the best for the price. Even rich folk like a bargain.

So I waited until there was a sale, and off I trotted to Macy's (I need the bargain). I loaded up on white fluffy towels and was at the register, when three old broads came up beside me.

One was in a wheel chair, looking decidedly worse for wear - white hair askew, a slightly dazed look in her feeble eyes.  The other looked loopy in that  Bette Davis - Whatever Happened to Baby Jane - way, like she was once an actress. Maybe she'd had in illustrious past as a starlet. You never know in Hollywood. Everyone and their pooch is or was in the biz in some incarnation.  Her bleached blonde-with-grey-roots hair sprung like a wild mop from her head and she sported ruby lipstick that had run into the deep crevasses around her mouth.

The third was a Filipino, probably the caregiver to the dame in the wheelchair. She was no spring chicken either. She looked almost ready for a walker herself.

Clearly they spent a lot of time together. They looked comfy in each other's presence. An old friendship. Maybe the two broads were sisters. Come to think of it, it was very Whatever Happened to Baby Jane. There was Blanche in her wheelchair and Baby Jane swanning around lording it over her.
Baby Jane had two sets of overly floral towels in her mitts.
"Whaddya think", she said, "do they match?"
Being the nosy broad that I am, I naturally had a gander. They sure were ugly.
Phyllis the Filipino leaned over, grabbed the towels from Baby Jane and ogled them. "No," she said, "they don't match. And this one is cheap."
She threw the offending towel in a dismissive gesture. It landed in an insouciant flop over the headboard of a display bed. Then she loaded a pile of shopping bags onto Blanche's lap. I could barely see Blanche's eyes poking out over the load. More bags were slung around the arms of the chair. These broads liked to shop.
Phyllis saw me trying to suppress a giggle. She tried to suppress one too. I'd busted her. For having good taste. And being in charge.
"You shove any more bags on her lap, you'll bury her", I said. Probably not the best choice of words considering Blanche's advanced age.
At that point Baby Jane gave a loud cackle. And we all started laughing. Even the guy behind the register chuckled.
And off they tottered, Phyllis pushing Blanche and Baby Jane teetering on her kitten heels.
It made me think of my friends. I hope I still have a gaggle of gals around me when we get decrepit. That's one plus to getting old. You have old pals.

And The Macy's Hotel collection? A tad flimsy. I think Phyllis and I would go for the Pratesi every time.