Ashley Does Her Part

Just a few more words on cosmopolitans' bad reputation. Here's how Richard Russo describes a woman in his latest book, That Old Cape Magic, which I read last week (better than Empire Falls, not as good as Nobody's Fool):

“A woman, in her late forties, was all dolled up and taking in the Old Cape Lounge as if it were just too wonderful for words and she meant to commit its every detail to loving memory. Her dress was cut low in the front, revealing a body that, though thickened, remained somehow hopeful.”

Though he does go on to describe in her in more depth later, right then he doesn't need to go any further to convey her lack of sophistication and salt-of-the-earthiness; he merely has her order a cosmopolitan.

On the other hand, my colleague Ashley, a 28-year-old sultry tattooed brunette vixen, is doing her best to change the stereotype. Here is the transcript of texts from a few nights ago:

Ash: I'm having a gin cosmo!

Me: Have two!

Ash: I'm on my third!

Not the recommended dosage, but she's young. She and I went to Blue Smoke for a very late lunch a few days ago and while I had a gin cosmo (which I watched being made: gin, cranberry juice and that lemony stuff in the squirt bottle), she had a beer to go with her pulled pork. So she's not the total convert yet, but it's a beginning and can only be good for cosmos' image.