The (Elusive, Like a Cat) Cat Shirt

The Cat Face Shirted Man

One thing I kept forgetting to mention earlier in my journals of Rio was the vast* number of Cats (the musical) shirts I saw down here. I’m almost positive that I saw two soon after arriving in Rio, although I remember neither sighting very clearly. All I know is that I saw some Cats (the musical) shirts and I coveted them.

*When considering these shirts, 2 indicates vast.

Then, when Mandy was visiting, we saw the guy pictured above from the bus somewhere near Flamengo. While not a Cats (the musical) shirt, it’s glorious and it embodies the specific type of cat-love that I’ve long wanted to advertise on my chest. I coveted the shirt, but it seemed that my coveting was forgiven because nothing other than divine providence could explain how the next day Mandy, Lauren, and I spotted the same shirt on a woman near Arpoador. Lauren, being awesome, ran over to the woman and asked her where she got it. We found out the shirt could be obtained at the Ipanema hippie fair held every Sunday afternoon.

The hippie fair is something of an arts and crafts bazaar where local artisans come to sell their wares or the wares of factories that mass produce arts and crafts type things. They’ve got goods from bamboo spatulas to tamarind seed earrings. You can (supposedly) also buy cat face shirts there.

While blessed with the knowledge of where to obtain the shirt, it remained just out of reach. None of us would be able to make it to the fair that Sunday; Mandy would be leaving on Friday and Lauren and I would be in Caxambu (Photos 1, 2, 3). Nevertheless, the shirt didn’t leave my mind (dreams), and about three weeks later, I found myself free to hippie shop one last time on my last Sunday in Rio.

By the time I returned from my tour of the country, Rio seemed to have shut down. The skies were gray, the streets were wet and empty. As the quiet gray Sunday demanded, I didn’t rush to the hippie fair. I got delayed…a visit to my Lauren’s and my old apartment building to pick up some things Lauren had left for me, a long lunch at Livia’s, a piece of cake from Fornalha (my old neighborhood’s 24-hour bakery), another fresh strawberry milk from my favorite juice bar. I finally headed towards the fair, but got off the bus too early and had to walk a ways to get to it.

By the time I arrived, most of the vendors stands had been abandoned, night had set in and rain had scared people away. I wandered the remains of the fair, asking about a black shirt featuring a cat’s face. One woman said ask next door, the woman next door said “no.” Resolute, I kept asking. I asked a woman and her daughter as they closed shop, folding their shawls and stuffing them into garbage bags to go home. The mother’s eyes lit up with recognition.

She pointed.

I looked.

She looked.

We saw the metal tube skeleton of a booth. She said, “she must have left. Lots of rain.”

I might have to have my connections in Rio seek this out for me. This is why networking is so important. Until then, I’ve.