posh

We were in the car - the UMS car, as we call him, he's old and sweet, like a good dog, and U-M-S is on his license place, hence the name - we were in our neighbourhood, in fact, exploring, on a lovely day. Something happened - some little thing about some car letting him in or not (my husband is always the driver - I'm Maps, the Navigator: we don't use GPS). And he said something about 'people don't let you in until you make eye contact.'

'Of course,' I replied. 'You're not human, until that point. You're your car.'

And we started chatting about how we all see cars - like dogs - as having personalities. A Porsche, for example, is a whole different kettle of fish than a Fiat, say, or a Ford.. or a Range Rover. Just then, a spot appeared, and he slid in. Right across from a shiny vintage Rolls. We left our UMS car - an Audi, more than a decade old, bashed and scratched and showing all the marks of a rich, full life - which we hope will continue - and went on an adventure.

I was thinking, while we were walking, about labels (my friend Sophia's phone chooses 'posh' for Soph on her predictive text). I think I don't buy into that stuff, I like to think I'm above it, but I found a Hermes scarf recently, on the sidewalk - abandoned - and instead of leaving it hanging from a post, in case its owner came back to claim it, I kept it. It's not my most beautiful scarf - it's shades of grey, not very pretty - but it's Hermes. Does that make it better? Does that make me a hypocrite? Do I like it any better because it's made by Hermes?

When we returned, I happened to have my camera, and I peeked inside the Rolls. There, on the back seat, was this ethereal snakeskin print scarf. I pictured its owner: Daisy Buchanan, as played by Mia Farrow. There was something.. lonely, I guess, that I felt, coming off from the scarf. It looked so quiet, in the back of the car.

'Come on Jill, stop farting around,' he said, and I got in the car. But as we pulled away, I sensed - and this is me, once again, anthropormorphising objects, as he says I always do - but I felt, as we left, that our little UMS car was resisting saying goodbye.

Like he hadn't even had a chance to get her license plate number.