Perhaps I should have known, when I began separating my laundry into “lights,” “darks,” and “leopard,” that things had gotten out of hand. Still, it wasn’t that I couldn’t go a day without sporting those gorgeous asymmetrical splotches of black and caramel brown somewhere on my person, but rather, why in the world would I want to? Why, after becoming a jungle cat, would I opt to return to my former life as a brown mouse?
With that first spotted acquisition - a re-gift on my birthday from my mother’s cousin who hadn’t even torn the original “To Gloria From Freddie” card off the bag - my wardrobe of lifeless creams, browns, and beiges instantly became the studio musicians to my leopard superstar. Suddenly, every day at least one cubemate or fellow bus passenger commented on my new stylish leanings.
I binge-watched tutorials on how, with a simple twirl or looping of fabric, I could turn one lone scarf into twenty different looks. For the first time in forty-one years, I actually received positive reinforcement on my couture. At long last, validation as a member of the human race became mine.
With increased fervor, I bought more pieces—a leopard skirt, a leopard blouse, a leopard twin-set—and with each purchase the words of praise and adulation from strangers grew exponentially. Sadly, so did my credit card balances. Their rise, in fact, was in direct proportion to my bank account’s fall, followed in no time by that of my IRA and stock portfolio, as well. I kept trying to restrain my urges to keep from falling prey to fiscal ruin, but eventually I knew that my appetite for all things leopard could not be tamed.
The news outlets dubbed me “The Haute Couture Bandit” because of how perfectly my leopard ski mask, tote, and stiletto booties matched the handgun I waved at the teller and all those I’d ordered to lie with their foreheads touching the linoleum. No matter which security camera angle appeared on TV or the net, the look was absolutely flawless.
So, with a flair like this, it’s a real shame that I’m not going to be able to complete this current order of spotted items from my online Wish List. Apparently - and this according to the detective outside on that bullhorn - my building is now surrounded, and I need to come out with my hands in the air. Thankfully, those silk elbow-length leopard gloves arrived Special Delivery not even an hour ago. Grrr-ARRR!
5/29/2026
The Words That Got to Me
"Why, after becoming a jungle cat, would I opt to return to my former life as a brown mouse?" why indeed? And I loved picturing...Hands in the air....wearing silk, elbow length leopard gloves!
That is too funny, I hope you sent Freddie a thank-you note. (I never know if you're facting or fictioning with things like this. It does say fiction - so, fictionally, you could send the thank you note to your mother's cousin--wouldn't that be a hoot.. ok, enough of that. Good Will will be thrilled OR are you keeping it all for nostalgia's sake, or Halloween? (kidding) I loved your posing for the security cameras while holding up the bank, in your to-die for outfit. Cute, funny story--imaginative and fun - and with your gorgeous hair and statuesque flair ( a little rhyme there :) leopard would still be great. If you should decide to limit the pieces you keep, I'd choose leopard sun glasses, wide brimmed hat and gun, of course. I can picture you in leopard attire. Smart look. I used to have a pair of leopard heels. Loved them. Wore black a lot. Clever scenes of you doing those things--fun to imagine! Easy to picture it, too!. in fact, that would make a fun script, enhanced with pictures of you in your leopard outfit! Enjoyable read!