Eyes and ears
A month ago I broke my tri-focals. I was fortunate enough that on the following Monday or Tuesday when I dropped by the optician, that they had another set of frames that fit my lenses. $149 later, I walked out with my old lenses mounted in jet black Wolverine frames.
Another problem, which I’ve related before, is that my head isn’t symmetrical. My left ear sits further back than the right, and my right ear is lower than the left. My eyebrows also don’t quite line up.
Glasses have to be bent, coaxed and bent some more to keep the lenses level and the same distance from my eyes. What usually happens is that the left lens drops down and the right lens pops forward. Besides being uncomfortable and looking really weird, it really fucks up my vision, what with the astigmatism and lines in the tri-focals.
Opticians hate this. They seem to have this notion that the frames must sit level on the table and the bend in the bows behind the ear should be in the same place. When freshly cleaned, frames will more or less stick in place and I walk out thinking everything is fine. A half-hour later after my complexion has lubricated them, they slip back—or rather, down on one side and forward on the other.
As a result, after a couple of trips to the optician, I always end up fitting the frames myself.
These new frames have been the most frustrating I’ve ever owned. First, I really, really didn’t like having to buy them. I need new lenses, but didn’t have the time to wait for an appointment and have new lenses made for more fashionable new frames—although I scouted around the shop and didn’t find anything to my liking.
Second, they resolutely resist bending. Ordinarily I can bend frames with my fingers. These require two pairs of pliers.
And the lenses keep popping out. Yesterday I discovered why. The lenses don’t fit perfectly. There’s a gap at the outside lower corners.
Last week, as my frustration was building to a crescendo, I dropped in to OneHipChic Optical, on Park Ave right next door to my shrink. Very trendy place. Exposed brick and ceiling beams, hardwood floors, milled stainless-steel fitting table, lots of halogne track lights.
My first thought was, “Oh, maybe I’m not hip enough for this place.” I even said that to the owner.
She laughed and replied, “We’ll see about that. Now take off your hat. Do you usually wear a hat?”
“Well, only in public,” I said, removing the offending headgear. “Bald guys with ponytails frighten people. But I like long hair and besides, if I lost a foot in a car wreck, would I have the other cut off just so my legs match? So why cut all my hair just because I lost it on top?”
“I think it’s a distinctive style, and it seems to work on you. I wouldn’t worry.”
Warming up to her, I continued, “Besides, the only other things I could do are a combover, which is just a public statement of denial, shaving it all off, which is another public form of denial—especially if you’re gay—or monk’s fringe which reminds me too much of my grandfather. Then again, a hat is just a poor man’s toupee.”
She got a good chuckle out of that. “And you really shouldn’t wear green. It’s not your color.”
“Erm… huh? I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I don’t have a colorist. And I like green. It’s my favorite color.”
“My favorite color is red, but I can’t wear it with my coloring. I can get by with orange through.”
And she does. She was wearing orange (quite well too) and drives an orange New Beetle.
She then proceeded to do what I’ve wanted an optician to do for 40 years. She pawed thorough drawers and drawers of designer frames, sharing her thoughts as she went along.
“The current trend is towards smaller glasses, but with your tri-focals, that doesn’t leave you much to look through. We get around that with either drilled lenses or semi-rimless frames. Then we can make the lens any size or shape we want.”
More rummaging.
“I want to see you in cool colors. The black works—that’s actually a cool color. Hmmm. We’ll stay away from gold. These are navy. But I’m thinking a silvery sort of pewter.”
And on it went.
“Your face is kind of wide, so we could go more angular, but then again, something arched on top would perk up your eyebrows.”
In the end, we had nine frames in two groups sitting on the fitting table. Including a festive red pair. Apparently, I can wear red even though she cannot.
One by one she had me try them on as she stood a few feet away, hip cocked, chin cupped in one hand, and frowning I think. Like she was examining a painting at a gallery. The commentary continued.
“No, the angular won’t work with your cheekbones. Try the next. The navy looks good on you, the the shape isn’t quite right. Try the next…”
We got down to the last set.
“Those. I saved them for last. I think that’s the right ones for you. Look in the mirror and tell me what you think.”
“I like them—what I can see of them. Why do you like them?”
“They’re wide enough for your face, the color’s just right for you,” a pewtery titanium, “and the arch really brings out your eyebrows. You have interesting eyebrows. These make use of them. And when we get your new prescription, we can play around some with the shape and size of the glass.”
Now the moment of truth. I took them off, holding my breath and looked at the price tag. Just $210. Amazing. The ones I only sort of liked at the old place were nearly $400.
I left with an estimate for new lenses, $380, and a recommendation for an optometrist. “She’s really good and you cna probably get an appointment without waiting long.”
I called yesterday and have an appointment for Monday morning. Turns out, the eye doc specializes in things like computer glasses and uses some laser gizmo for measuring the prescription.
In the early 70s I saw a demo at the Ontario Science Centre that showed how laser light could make more accurate vision tests. They said that soon, all vision tests would be made with lasers. Apparently, “soon” meant 30 years.
In any event, perhaps as soon as next weekend I’ll have fashionable new glasses that accentuate my eyebrows, highlight my coloring and enable me to see again.
I’ll just have to remember not to wear green.
