It’s devastating to go from being needed every day to waking up every morning with absolutely nothing to do. For reasons I don’t understand, I’ve become ancient history; forced to stand by the sidelines and watch the world go by. I feel like I’ve been cut down in my prime, like my syndicated show’s been cancelled. I used to be star, an essential part of the daily routine. Now, no one even knows where to find me.
And it’s not just me who’s feeling unhinged. One by one, the gang’s been let go of their former duties and replaced. It’s like we’re living in uncanny valley while falling down a rabbit hole.
The Louboutins went first. Which came to no one’s surprise. From the moment they stepped through the door, we could tell they were the kind that lived fast and loose. But we’d never guess this was how it would end. Every weekend the pair of them would go out to loud sweaty places and come back with the most outrageous stories, usually involving glitter, lasers, and a peculiar game that involved repeating “Anyone seen Becky?” every hour or so. I guess you had to be there to get it. One evening, they were moved (shoved) into a tiny shoebox of a home at the back of the closet and we haven’t seen them since. Suddenly, the party was over. Stuck in solitary confinement, they’ve developed a routine of asking us what day it is, which we’ve been more than glad to answer considering everything else that’s happened out here. None of us can bring ourselves to tell them that they’ve been usurped by the very same basics they used to mock. These days, the new It girl is a combination of old gym socks and chunky blocks of foam with little holes. We all agreed that revealing this would only make them believe they have no place in this brave new world. And who knows if that's really true. I haven’t introduced myself to the replacements yet, but I've seen their name tags. Crocs. An odd-sounding name for an odd-looking couple.
When Levi Strauss caved—retreated into a deep, irreparable depression—after being traded for a couple of bench players who aren't even on the same level, I was in shock for days. These subs can't compete. They barely qualify. They're in a completely different category. The event was unquestionably, the biggest upset in history. One goes by George, the other, Hanes. They look like two grey balloons held together by a giant scrunchie at the top and two smaller scrunchies at the bottom. An overly long rope hangs out that’s supposed to act as some kind of belt but at best, looks ironic. I don’t know what to make of them. Apparently, George and Hanes were found in a store that also sells processed meats and cheeses at a discount. I guess that explains their ongoing identity crisis. Sometimes, they give off a very “what is life even” vibe. All I know is, the day they arrived in that travel-sized garbage bag with a big happy face on it, I knew we were officially living in strange times. The image still keeps me up nights.
Nobody knows what happened to Tiffany and Pandora. From what I can tell, nothing came to fill their spots. They just don't come around anymore. One can only assume they’re safe inside, taking some time to rest on those fancy pillows of theirs. I miss their sparkle and charm. It was always a good day when they came out to play.
Although I’m not the only one going through this, it still sucks. It's hard to have something so important taken away. I thought I was her loyal sidekick. Her signature colour. The wing woman she could always count on to make a good impression. She used to never leave the house without me, always double-checking to make sure I, Estée “Rebellious Rose” Lauder, was there, tucked safely into a pocket. When she was nervous, my shade would give her confidence. When she was anxious, the sound of my click would give her reassurance. But those days are over. She's got new friends now. And annoyingly, not only is it difficult to tell them apart, they've all given each other the same nicknames. N95 this. N95 that. N95 4ever! Blegh. I don’t think we'll ever get along.
As I stand at the edge of the table, the sun beating and wearing me down a little bit more every day, time goes by pointlessly. I look and everything that was familiar—everything that made sense—is no longer around. Everyone's in hiding, waiting for things to pass, not knowing what it is they’re actually waiting for. I wonder if things will ever be the same. I wonder if the gang will ever be together again. And I wonder if I’ll ever be as useful as I once was.
