The Vision Thing

Looking at the world through eggplant-colored glasses.

By Kathryn Robinson

So second-nature is all this for Ruby, he once forgot himself entirely and approached a stranger in New York City, arms outstretched, fully intending to remove his glasses. “I was just going to tell him that his glasses made him look like a basset hound,” Ruby told us. “He wasn’t happy.”

Still, he said, some looks are designed for purposes profounder than face shape. He keeps one business dandy in town supplied with round frames in spite of the fact that his face would look a hundred times better in angular. (Like the bartender who remembers everyone’s “usual,” Ruby remembers every face he’s ever fit for frames.) It’s his style expression, his signature. “Oh, it’s completely wrong,” Ruby quipped. “But somewhere along the line he decided that it’s him.”

My friend twirled around, radiant in a pair of eggplant frames with slightly upturned edges. “Okay, okay!” Ruby enthused. “Very good! Purple is all about art, color, interest. These are edgy. These are powerful. Plus they’re great on you.”

She tried on the red again, then the purple, then back and forth in a toggle of indecision. “Take some time, think about it,” the Wizard counseled. “But here’s the thing to remember: The red ones say sweet. The purple ones say strong. It depends on who you want to be.”

She was quiet all the way down Pike Street. “Do you buy that?” she finally asked. “They’re just glasses.” I shrugged, reminding her of the story Ruby told of the girl he took for a high schooler, who came to him in search of a bolder image. When he steered her into a pair of thick rectangular black frames, the clear “don’t mess with me” look helped the young miss be taken seriously as the prosecuting attorney she actually was.

A few months later she stopped back to report that the glasses had entirely rewritten her professional life. Judges and attorneys who had dismissed her before now visibly accorded her new gravitas. “It’s all about the eyes,” Ruby marveled. “When people are trying to size you up—they go right to the eyes.”

My friend called a couple of weeks later. “I’ve made my decision,” she announced. “Can I come over?” She arrived at my door looking weary but triumphant. “I kicked him out,” she breathed, eyes closed. “I finally kicked him out.”

I gasped. “I thought you meant your glasses decision!”

“Oh, I thought I told you. I decided that right away.” And out of a shiny new case she pulled her new pair of purple glasses. I could have guessed.