People on the Train, Part II

I love little old ladies. Well, not really, sometimes they're kind of terrible. But it's so adorable how they always put so much effort into their appearance, carefully preserving their perms so that they don't have to wash their hair all the time, powdering their skin, and wearing those horrifyingly matching outfits. You know, the ones where everything is made from the same eye-gougingly ugly material and there's a matching brooch, pair of earrings, gaudy necklace, and hat to go with it.

I've seen meticulously groomed old men, and dirty disgusting ones, but I have never seen a disgusting old woman. Case in point: There was an ancient drug addict at the train station this morning. I wouldn't have been able to tell that she was an addict, were it not for the fact that SHE MATCHED THE COLOUR OF PAINT SHE WAS HUFFING TO HER CLOTHES. Pink blazer, skirt, necklace, and paint stains on the face. Now THAT's co-ordination.