second year jake head

Citizens of Athens, I propose to you an incredibly fun new game of sight-seeing and people watching. Fortunately for us, we live in a city rich with the eclectic and eccentric, teeming with flaneurs. Oh, you don’t know what a flaneur is? Well, for those of you who are neither pretentious nor a francophile, a flaneur is a french term coined by a haughty socialite that roughly translates to “eccentric stroller”--but since translations usually fail us, the best way for me to accurately explain this is by exemplifying it:

Say you and a friend are sitting at Walkers complaining about the recent increase in bagel prices on campus when you happen to see a young man strolling down the street (the strolling bit is essential here, for a flaneur never walks like he has somewhere to go). This man’s hair is purposefully mounted in a hive-like heap above his head, and there is a long, unfiltered cigarette dangling from his painted lips (or perhaps it is a bedazzled juul, depending on the generation of the subject in question); his dress is deliberately strange and uncommonly beautiful. Probably, he is walking an animal as similarly dressed or as equally charming as he--perhaps it is a cat with a top hat, or an annoyed iguana, or maybe a rat with a tiny sweater (I’m triggered). This man, as you have gathered, is a prime example of a beautifully eccentric flaneur, of which Athens boasts many. Now, my challenge and game for you, dear readers, is to observe and count as many flaneurs as you can on the streets of Athens. Be careful to distinguish between those who are well intentioned flaneurs and those who are simple attention seekers (white people with dread-locks and Native American tribal tattoos are examples of the wrongfully eclectic, for instance). See how many you can count in one week!

Do be careful though, for as you play this game, you might notice some changes to your personality and persona. You might begin to eat less chick-fil-a (technically you should capitalize CFA but fuck them let’s not), and more tempeh. You might begin to impulse buy jewels, vintage mirrors, and brightly colored razor scooters. Your friends might complain that you walk too slow, or that you are too materialistic, or that they’re tired of hearing about how much Kentucky Ayahuasca inspires you--you might also notice a distinct and recurring habit of staring through dimly lit windows while listening to Edith Piaf’s greatest hit in your spare time; at one point, poor reader, in the course of your gameplay, you will have completely transformed into a flaneur yourself. If you are already a reader of The Chapel Bell, no doubt this process has already begun. Don’t believe me? Ok. But just know that the tote bag you now sport instead of a backpack is a sure indication of the inevitable.

Spot the Flaneur!