The greatest sentence ever written about candy shops: "I think I loved the richly decorated canisters almost more than their contents, and I subscribed with the fervor of a youthful heart to the idea of life which each of these stores seemed to represent: an ideal you began to serve as soon as you entered their doors, since you were immediately assailed by all the perfumes of pleasure; you were confronted by cases where trays and tins and jars of goodies were arrayed, by counters covered in packages bedizened with a sheen of stars; and you knew that beneath each fancy wrapping tied with its satiny ribbon was a richly hued and well-wrought box containing, in its turn, a treasure seductively clothed and reclining on a bed of crumpled tissue; further, that within the splendidly gleaming thing itself were sweets of all sorts wound in scintillating papers, while underneath that ceaseless shimmer could be found peanuts, raisins, dollops of jelly, chunks of toffee, cores of caramel and flavored cremes, each coated in chocolate the way silk slips obey yet conceal their appealing bodies; so that first of all you had to approach the object of your worship, sometimes walking blocks on a dull cold day, and then you had to complete the commercial ritual: inspecting, choosing, expressing your wishes by pointing, by putting a name to your desire, and paying its price too, before taking it - as if in no hurry - into your hands, then almost leisurely turning to leave before your fingers began to act upon the wrappings (since there was a rule against eating on the premises), sauntering a short way, still shy as if you carried a bottle in a brown paper bag, appearing surprised that the sweet has been released from its conventions, but bringing it diffidently to the mouth where its final resistance melts away, and you have a bit of marshmallow to enjoy for a moment, or an anonymous surge of sugar, a taste of some exotic spice, a pop of mint, as the candy makes a second genital of the tongue, and before you think about, and seek uneasily for, another piece: insecure because you are aware you may become bored or sated; insecure because you fear the supply may run out; insecure because you wonder, after all, if it is worth it - the many-blocks walk on such a cold dull day, the loss of loose change, a perhaps too hopefully expectant state of mind - just for this bit of butterscotch, this nub of hazelnut, this soft blob of perhaps unmerited reward, this precious though transient gift of pleasure - ruinous to the teeth, the figure, the complexion - but prized because, in a life so founded on the continued useful operation of the senses, there was this pure, inherently idle, injudicious and indulgent sensation."
Posted on: Thu, 08 Aug 2013 02:00:16 +0000
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