Redux
Every journey circle home
“This is what I’ll wear to the bash tonight”, she said, pulling a pair of black sequin trousers out of her bag, holding them up by her long, burgundy, pointed nails, every detail perfectly aligned with this year’s fashion consensus, and just like that another familiar conversation began, about clothes and shoes, about which restaurant had secured a booking, about which exes had returned from their studies abroad and been spotted here and there, I have seen those trousers everywhere myself, in shop windows and online, in cheap versions and in outrageously expensive ones, and the truth is I like them too, though in chocolate brown, because brown is this season’s answer to everything, she lifted a bustier with a fingernail, black again, glossy again, and it struck me as absurd that the more threadbare our world becomes the louder and more flamboyant our celebrations grow, as though insecurity can be disguised with sequins and sparkle, everything polished on the outside, coordinated eyeliner and lip liner, pin straight hair, keratin, because technology has marched on at speed when it comes to hair, food, wine, cheese, kourabiedes, red meat, pleasure and excess, only the minimum wage has failed to keep up, it shuffled forward just enough to claim movement, a kind of numerical sleight of hand that avoids asking the simplest question of all, how exactly is the month supposed to add up, that familiar month with its many expenses, taxes, supermarket bills, utilities and loan repayments, thinking through the obvious before announcing that the monthly minimum wage for full time work after six months of continuous employment will rise from 1,000 euros to 1,088, from the first of January 2026, and presenting this as an improvement, almost as an achievement, because as we were told a delicate balance must be kept between protecting workers and safeguarding business viability, not of course the viability of business owners, they will always find ways to exploit their companies in order to enjoy the good things, large houses, holiday homes, designer dogs, cars and travel, and naturally this supposed uplift, not of the soul and certainly not of living standards, more an uplift of the eyebrow, was questioned by politicians and trade unionists alike, they all expressed disappointment, yet no one tore their trousers or their bustier in anger over the matter, days like these they too have to cook, to go from house to house, those with relatives and friends, just like those living on the edge or below it, and the pensioners sitting on sofas, some in dreadful housing, others in homes they handed entirely to their children while waiting for someone to visit, in Cyprus there is always something to eat and something to wear, charities collected pasta, tinned food and clothes we no longer liked and gave them away generously, we do not throw them out, we give them away, these days will pass as long as we have our health, meaning we can breathe, even if we carry autoimmune conditions and mental burdens, they will wish us happy holidays and ask if we are well, without waiting for the answer, and of course they will ask where we got the trousers, the ones with the sequins.