PSL: Let’s do it
Á la Française by Solange Luftman
Oh yeah baby. You pour that syrup in my cup. Yes, you stir it up. Oh I wish I didn’t have to wait for this pleasure. The anticipation is killing me! Have a nice day? Now that the object of my desire is ready, you better believe I will. Putting my mouth to the rim, I inundate my taste buds with liquid envy. As per usual, I must slosh the mixture around a bit before swallowing to get a complete experience. Mmmm. Seduction of the sweetest kind. I often wonder if the second sip will be as good as the first and it always is. A fine lover you are. Merci beaucoup! Oh my, honey you are a savage* one! Let’s keep this going until fall ends. I wish you could never leave my side. A slick lick of my upper lip and the deed is done. Confused? I’m talking about PSL’s obviously. You don’t know? Ugh plebeians these days… It stands for Pumpkin Spice Latte. You know, from Starbucks? When you reach a certain level of class, one does not need to indulge in decorative cappuccino foam from a porcelain mug. Simplicity is key. The lipstick stain on my coffee cup reminds me of how chic I am. Channeling Liz Taylor is a specialty of mine. Look at my eyeliner in all its élégance*. Yes, I’ll probably tell you that it took me a minute to get ready, but I’m lying. Contrary to popular belief, glamour is not organic. And neither are the fields that poor Costa Ricans have to till to make sure I can enjoy my PSL at this moment. All that is posh is contrived. Didn’t Brigitte Bardot’s platinum long locks teach you that?
Like the lovely photos that Starbucks places in their coffee shops that showcase the natural beauty of their coffee bean farms and close-ups of the raw vermilion beans, my charming impressions of old Hollywood actresses is a façade. Marilyn engaged in all this as well. Those eyebrows did not pluck themselves. Because it is often discouraging to look up to celebs that have passed on, I can always count on Lana Del Rey™ to make me feel at ease. She’s the perfect impersonator of old Hollywood and I crave to be just like her, just as I crave PSL’s. To tastefully wrap things up, I would like to discuss all the lowly peasants that berate me for enjoying PSL’s. I don’t want to sound crasse*, but those individuals can bugger off. Sure, I occasionally sport floral print tracksuits and draw-on a beauty mark on my left cheek, but criticism for coffee tastes is so démodé*. As for me, I’m going to continue to wear haute couture and be fabuleux*. The magique* of PSL’s is real, unlike your dreams for the future. Offended? Hmm c’est la vie*!
*Á la Française: in the French manner. Like the croissants and éclairs I enjoy over a stimulating brunch with elite acquaintances. *Savauge: wild. Like the time I did the cinnamon challenge and coughed puffs of powdery puffs into the pale moon light™ *Élégance: elegant. Like the lands of Gods and Monsters™ *Crasse: crass. Like the angels looking to get fucked hard™ *Démodé: out of style. Like Lana’s boyfriend who’s really cool, but not as cool as her. *Fabuleux: fabulous. Like Lana Del Rey™ *Magique: magic. Like a red party dress™
Issue 158, November 2014
7