My sister pilfered my copy of Lolita off the bookshelf recently and went into over-drive on Nabokov’s literary genius. Her obsession moved from book to film and she bought the DVD of the 1997 movie off the Internet, which I have not watched. The disturbing pedophiliac plot aside, I did enjoy the mid-century setting and dreamy cinematic effect. I will go so far as to say that I like it. Especially the road trip scenes, because there is something endlessly seductive about taking a long car ride from Point A to Somewhere Else.

And there are those famous heart-shaped sunglasses (originally from the 1962 movie). [It was very wise of me to pick up a similar pair in tortoiseshell at H&M last year.] There may be a road trip coming up in my life and I was daydreaming about an awesome memory snapshot of me in those heart-shaped sunnies while on the road (after Kerouac, I feel pretentious every time I use these words).

That is the furthest I will go in referencing Lolita in my own life. Any more and it will be very, very weird.


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