SENORA BABOO, AS MY DAD HAD NAMED HER, sits behind me daily as I work on my computer, on the right-most corner of the dining table which has become my permanent office since moving to Barcelona. We are alike, she and I, having a penchant for dolling up and dressing up, though in my case, I'd need to wear more than just a necklace over my nudity.
Unlike Señora Baboo, however, who is picture perfect day in and day out, my daily appearance has not been as manicured as usual. Where I used to work best in high heels and lined eyes, I now bask in the glow of my laptop screen wearing whatever I woke up in, or whatever I am about to sleep in. Footwear? Just my bedroom slippers. Makeup? Call it a natural "sheen".
And my office pals? Two hairy gals -one gold, one grey- that need walking and feeding, and minding when they're bored. It's not the most glamorous of setups. But at any given time of the day, I can throw on a dress and some concealer, traipse over to the corner bar for vino or vermut, stroll down Diagonal or Passeig de Gracia for a quick shop, see some Gaudì and pick up some pan integral on the way home. Or I can stay in and savor being home with sunlight, plants and pets, watch a movie, whip up a salad or do some gardening over breaks, like I never quite had a chance to since I started working six years ago.
Glamor is more than what goes on your face and adorns your body. And it must definitely be more than what fills your surroundings. It is, by definition, "the attractive or exciting quality that makes certain people or things seem appealing or special." Archaically, it is magic. Enchantment. You can feel glamorous in a corner office overlooking the ocean and just the same feel glamorous in bed, with messy hair, a laptop and a puppy. It's really up to you.
And so. Señora Baboo, I am still more glamorous than you.
Señora Baboo, oil on canvas by Rudy San Pedro. www.rudysanpedroart.com