There was one popular department store in the town, Russell's; it had a department that sold the clothes the cool kids wore. Not the "in crowd" with their Peter Pan Colors, but the uncool cool kids, with our bell bottoms and mini-skirts and flowered wide sleeved blouses.
In the jewelery department, there was a display of enameled flower rings, made of metal. Denise, who was the ultimate in blase, led me directly there and deftly pocketed two or three. "Now you try." She said. I looked around. I felt my heart going pit a pat. I was about to become a criminal! I never gave a thought to what my mother would think. What my friends in the "college" crowd would think. What I might think if I was thinking.
I didn't think, I just slipped a daisy ring in bright yellow and orange onto my finger and slipped the finger, hand and all, into my jacket pocket. (Pea coat, very cool.) Then Denise and I sampled perfumes as we scoped out whether any security types appeared to be watching us.
Looking back, I am amazed at how easy it was, how unguilty I felt. How thrilled to have a little trinket I didn't have to pay for.
Amoral at such a young age. In later years, I would join bands of radical youth openly protesting the capitalist system by pilfering items from toilet paper from the student union to steaks from high end markets. We justified our actions as redistribution of wealth. As a teenager, I was just having fun with the cool kids.
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