This morning when I got off the metro, I'd walked about halfway to the escalator when I heard this voice behind me calling, "Miss! Miss!" I looked back - maybe I'd left something - and realized it was the train operator, leaning out of her little window. I pointed at myself. Me? Yes. So I walked all the way back, wondering if she was going to, like, ask me to tell the station manager she was being train-jacked, and she said, "I just wanted to ask you, where did you get those jeans?" I told her (Ann Taylor Loft - take that, denim snobs) and she said, "They're cute" and drove off.
I'd been told before that these jeans look good on me, but it was by people like Miss Shirley who are nice to me anyway. It was pretty cool to hear it from a stranger.