Suddenly we see a skinny woman in a print dress holding on to her wildly wide-brimmed hat and running full force across the avenue toward us.1s
Misty wintry afternoon. My friend Janny and I wereâ€”arm in armâ€”briskly clacking in our highest heels down Fifth Ave. It was 1974, and we were young and stylish, self-satisfied and loving being Manhattan women.
Suddenly we see a skinny woman in a print dress holding on to her wildly wide-brimmed hat and running full force across the avenue toward us, head ducked down to brave the chilly wind. "Where can I buy a fur coat?" she asks.
"Well, if not here, then nowhere!" I said, "There's Bendel's, Bergdorf's, and Bonwit Teller right _here!"_ She swirled around to look where I was gesturing, still holding her hat in place, its green ribbon flying. "Thank you so much!" she said and took off back across the street.
"That was Joni Mitchell," we whispered, awestruck. We had just listened to her newest album, _Court and Spark,_ and admired her wisdom. "Why didn't we invite her to come with us?!" We have always regretted this mistake.