The case housing her iPad is black and innocuous, and it stands out to me compared to all of the over the top glitz I've seen this weekend. It's cute and has an attached keyboard, so useful as well. I shiver a little, feeling the goosebumps pop up along the length of my legs, and reach up to close the old fashioned airplane style circular vent. A scene playing out through my headphones catches my attention. Woody Allen's Blue Jasmine plays on the screen a few rows ahead of me, partially obscured by the overhead compartments. Jasmine is wandering around a party, trying to find someone to talk to while toting around her big Birkin, interlocked C's hanging from her belt letting everyone know that that lovely dress she's wearing is, in fact, Chanel. She's visibly uncomfortable but also dripping with confidence, an anomaly.
The scene changes and I'm less transfixed. I look back down to the the girl next to me in her baby pink top sipping her makeshift Bloody Mary, watching episode after episode of Sex and the City.