She Wore Slacks for the Occasion

On the opening day of testimony, Eva arrived at the courthouse dressed in a white trench coat; it was only buttoned halfway. The undone silvery buttons reflected every ounce of light as she stepped out of the car—underneath was a white pearled silk blouse.    This wasn’t what made the papers though.

I was one of those photographers who rushed towards her frenetically. All of us were dressed in frumpy coats, with pockets bulging of extra flashbulbs and film. Our battered russet Fedoras were pushed back on our heads so that the brims wouldn’t get in the way of the big cameras.  Flashbulbs were popping indiscriminately, embowering her in heartbeats of bright light. You would have thought she was a celebutante.   Like a mischief we scurried hurriedly on the scent of her. Hazel eyes replaced the pupils of every Tom, Dick and Harry…money, rigmarole such as this would certainly pay handsomely.

I forgot to take pictures along the way— I had no more use for orthochromatic film and darkrooms illuminated with red light. History was happening in front of me.   Onlookers waited in the hallway behind perse velvet ropes hoping to land a seat in the courtroom. Visibly open-mouthed, they stood eyes fixated, in their midi length bias-cut dresses.

Eva winked and blew kisses as she passed by.   She entered the courtroom to testify as a witness to a home invasion. She was once more flayed by the judge for wearing what her blouse was controversially tucked into. It was the slacks, they were the whitest of white. She was flagrantly disobeying the judge’s orders once more.   The soberest of faces washed over Honorable Malcolm Rowe. “You were told twice to put on a dress next time you entered this courtroom…”   The brown hardwood gavel hit the sound block.   Found in contempt.   She chose to smile because equality wouldn’t be reached without a bit of drama.   This potboiler sold a record number of scandal sheets the next day… A win for womankind, just as she had hoped.