Togetherness

My first job out of university was as a receptionist/bookkeeper (pre-computer, children! Ledger sheets and an adding machine with paper tape) for a company that had a Board of Directors.

Two of the Directors were a married couple. We in the office called them Frick and Frack. He was about 6’2”; she was an even five feet tall. They always dressed alike. I mean, always. And I mean identically alike. She made all their clothes, despite their wealth. She was cheap, too, used to count the office supplies in case we’d been profligate with the liquid paper. He, on the other hand, was a pathetic letch. “Pathetic” in that what he thought were double entendres could probably be said by Elmo on camera. It was sad, really.

Anyhow, I want to talk about the clothes. Although this was well into the 80s, she would make identical leisure suits in Frank Stella-esque decorator pastels. They wore matching hats. She was very proud of him and seemed to think we were after his ass, or after his toupee, which was a pre-Trump marvel. I had forgotten all about them until today.

Today I saw a couple in at most their late 30s, not only dressed alike but – here’s where I boggled – also had their hair dyed the same unconvincing milk chocolate brown. It was the closest thing I’ve ever seen to a good argument in favor of reincarnation. They were Frick and Frack reborn.

Fran (my pal from the next desk) if you’re out there, you should have seen them. They made me nostalgic for Julius and the Sams and the Lake Park of yore.