From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Sight
I’m leaning against the drugstore window, squinting through my brand-new Foster Grants as the sunlight turns the sidewalk into a blinding white glare. My fingers are raw from trying to master the "Around the World" trick with my Duncan Yo-Yo, but it’s all baloney compared to the guys already cruising by with those fancy new car radios blaring. Ma sent me out for a loaf of rye, but seeing her hand over that eleven cents—**$0.11** just for bread—makes me wish I could spend it on a matinee or more pomade for my hair instead. Everything feels like it’s humming on high gear, from the sharp silhouettes of those pinstripe suits to the way the girls are bobbing their hair under those tight cloche hats.