The All Seeing Eyes

The jerks who called bespectacled kids "four-eyes" on the playground were wrong.  The right pair of glasses projects a seductive, smart image and adds a dash of mystery to everyday ensembles.  Without his glasses, jazz pianist Bill Evans would’ve looked like a strung-out heroin addict.  With his glasses, however, Evans looked the part of a tortured introspective genius.  And would Michael Caine have been half as compelling in his mid '60s heyday sans his signature specs?  I have my doubts.

My tortoiseshell specs are an extension of my eyes.  Part of that is due to the fact that my vision is abysmal - without glasses, I’m almost blind.  Part of that, however, is because my glasses look and feel right on me.  After going through endless pairs of thin-rimmed specs during my childhood and a pair of chunky black Ray-Bans in high school and early college, I found my current glasses.  I’ve had them for five years now and can’t bear the thought of giving them up or changing my prescription, whichever comes first.

People often ask where I purchased my glasses.  While I keep it a close guarded secret to those I don't know, I bought them at J.C. Penney.  I haven't set foot in a Penney’s since, but their price was appealing at the time (mind you, I was a broke college student when I got them) and I had always wanted a pair of tortoiseshell frames.  I’ve since concluded that I got more than I bargained for, considering how durable my specs are and how many times the frame has been bent and straightened out (thankfully, the days of being rough on my glasses are over).

When my current pair is on its last legs, however, I plan to get several copies of them made to wear throughout the coming years.  These glasses are enough a part of my style that I’m glad to shell out the dough to keep them (or a replica) with me until the day I die.