If I Could Turn Back Time

Spurred by nostalgia for the freedom of youth, Sarah makes a snap decision...

- Sarah Quigley

It’s a sparkling spring day, but I’m feeling dispirited¸ and not just because InStyle has announced that capri pants are back.

“I don’t have many rules.” I sip Ray’s matcha tea even though I don’t really like it; today I need all the positive power I can get. “But I have a few. One, I won’t start a relationship with a man who’s still married. Two, I will never, ever –” I reel back at the sight of a tourist in tight, semi-transparent white cotton capris – “wear those.”

“Good for you!” chorus Ray 1 and Ray 2, both of whom have meticulous societal and sartorial standards.

“Such a trouser,” frowns Ray 2, using the singular with deference to his native German, “should not be publicly worn.”

“Trouser-S, plural,” corrects Ray 1. “There is more than one here?” Ray 2 swivels his well-groomed head in alarm. The waitress appears, doe-eyed and dewy-faced, like a Maybelline ad. I’m mesmerised by her rounded arms and perfect skin, unblemished by age, stress, accidents and other misfortunes.

“Carrot cake?” She has the radiance of a happy millennial.

“Danke.” I accept a sliver of cake buried in a mound of raw grated carrot. “Boy, you  Berliners sure like to make the literal point.”

“Are you really willing to wait for Mr Stable?” Ray 2 returns to the main conversational topic, concerned not just about legal contracts but also, endearingly, about my levels of loneliness. “German divorces move at glacial speed, you know.”