Stars for the Floor

I used to steal my roommate’s Nylon for the horoscope. Not the reviews. The back page, next to the perfume sample, typeface like a note passed in class. Jane did it. The Face pretended not to, then ran one anyway. Nobody in the art department believed Mercury. You read it in the kitchen while the kettle went, still in last night’s mascara, and it told you whether to wear the thing.

We’re an evening paper. Even evening papers kept a column for the people who actually bought the issue. Here is this week for the floor, the fit, the afters. Take what you need. Leave the rest on the counter with the lip gloss.

Aries: Wear the thing that made you nervous in the hallway, because if they clock it at the door, you’re in.

Taurus: Buy the cassette, and don’t explain the receipt to anyone who only streams.

Gemini: You can do two rooms in one outfit, but don’t text the first one from the bathroom of the second.

Cancer: Put Sade on before anyone asks, because afters are already happening in your kitchen and you should act like you knew.

Leo: You are the flyer this week, so stop waiting to be introduced to a night you already paid for.

Virgo: The playlist is fine, so stop adding one more track and go do your mouth.

Libra: Let them pick the Uber aux, since you picked last week and you played the same four songs.

Scorpio: Don’t tell them the name of the night. If they should be there, they’ll find it.

Sagittarius: Leave before the lights come up, because the sidewalk version of the night is almost always better.

Capricorn: Pay for the cab, and keep the receipt in the jacket you are going to wear again on Thursday.

Aquarius: The group chat is not a vote, so send the pin and put your phone in your bra.

Pisces: Glitter on the collarbone is a policy this week, so enforce it, even in the kitchen.

If your sign feels wrong, borrow the other sign’s. Nobody at the door is checking a birth chart. The bathroom line already decided who you are tonight.