Someone Else's Clothes

"I'll take your side. If I'm the only one, I'm used to that. I've been alone. I'd rather be the half of us... the least of you... the best of me." -- Jason Robert Brown

There used to be a restaurant on 70th and Broadway called Cafe Mozart. It wasn't a culinary paradise by any means, but I stopped in for dessert constantly and dragged countless friends there. Why? For the thrill of the moment when their eyes focused on the painting hanging above the piano... and the subsequent moment when they realized that the woman in the painting looked exactly like me.

I didn't pose for the painting, of course; I was six years old when it was created, so the model who once looked so much like me is probably in her forties by now. Ink-and-paint doppelgangers are nothing new in my world anyway; in addition to Ms. Cafe Mozart, I once blogged about a twin from the Notre Dame Class of 1948.

Things have been getting a little more real lately, though. A few weeks ago, one of my colleagues told me that she saw me on the upper west side on a Saturday afternoon. She spotted me from across the street as I was walking with friends, but since I seemed to be in a hurry, she didn't call out to stop me. Trouble was, I was nowhere near the upper west side that day. My colleague was bewildered -- she sees me every day and is perfectly equipped to recognize me from across a street in plain daylight -- but we laughed it off.

Today, one of the rotating MDs came up to me and apologized for freaking me out at the gym the other night. She was on the adjacent treadmill, kept smiling at me, and tried to initiate conversation, but I obviously didn't recognize her so I gave a nervous smile and switched treadmills to get away. I haven't been to the gym since I left college, but the MD worked out with me last Tuesday. She recognized my face, my hair, my body, and even my glasses.

So in this sprawling, diverse city of eight and a half million, some anonymous woman is living in my skin. She sees the world with my eyes, she tames my hair every morning, she flashes my smile, she keeps my body fit, she kisses with my lips. And though I'm pretty panicked about all of this, there's not a damn thing I can do about it. I just hope she's treating me with respect.