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The Perils of Sunscreen
The summer sun in L.A. is blazing. When I take Rose for a late afternoon walk, I wear an enormous, SPF-30 hat and a long sleeve t-shirt to shield me. There’s not a speck of skin on view, except for my ankles. On the rare occasion when I spot an attractive man whose path I might cross, I, very casually, remove the t-shirt and sling it low on my hips, take off the hat, and run my fingers through my hair for a little lift. But it’s a lost cause. Hat head is impossible to reverse without a spigot, and by then he’s long gone.
Photo: Gordon Parks for Life Magazine, June 1951
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