São Paulo may be perceived as just another metropolis. However, the city, situated in a country of continental proportions, does not see an influx of people from all corners of the globe but rather from various states within the same nation. Contrary to expectations, people here do not walk around in luxurious coats but rather flaunt sizes, colours, and symmetries to showcase their tan and toned legs.
The place where a complex of superiority mixes with a hint of the tropical climate is well-known for attracting visitors by offering opportunities to fulfil their desires. Despite its fast pace and endless nights, you may fall in love with the city, but there is no guarantee it will reciprocate.
Returning to my natural habitat, I realized I was out of sync. I felt like a small-town girl who had just moved to the big city. Although all of this had always been part of my life, I had become rusty to it more than I had imagined. I had grown used to quieter days and a more structured routine. I have even developed healthier habits.
However, the doorbell ringing at my apartment quickly dispelled all those feelings. Standing 1.73 meters tall, with flawless eyebrows and Chanel Pumps, Victoria had come to spend a few days with me before her trip to Rio de Janeiro. A hug, two bottles of Carbenet, and hours of conversation on the balcony brought me the happiness of being back.
The next day, I was still struggling to adjust to the temperature. So, in an attempt to find the perfect piece of clothing to complement my top, Vic, with her sharp e-commerce girl gaze, convinced me to go to Renner’s and check out the new collection of skirts.
As I crossed Campinas Street with Paulista Avenue, I was unaware that I was about to change my life forever.
Trying on the 27 cm piece of fabric, I felt something had aroused within me. Still uncertain about my choice, I sent a photo to Victoria asking if the skirt was too short, and she, without hesitation, replied that hers was much shorter than that.
Still perplexed by what it all meant, I embraced what I would call ‘a new era’, and I would no longer be concerned about displaying my body. With this newfound resolve, I not only purchased one but two miniskirts.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Laura was receiving our unstoppable messages, and we were trying to convince her to join us at the bar. Even though the official friends’ meeting was set for Saturday, we wanted a girls’ night out, as since my arrival, we have yet to have the opportunity to meet. Still, Laura was undecided about whether to do it or join us, knowing we wouldn’t settle for ‘just one drink.’
Later that day, as Victoria and I got ready, I noticed something had changed. The atmosphere felt different, and self-assurance emanated throughout my preparation. I knew it wasn’t the red lipstick, the earrings, or my new perfume. It was something much greater than that.
On our way to Opalina, it was evident that all eyes were on us (or at least, that’s what we thought). It felt like Gisele Bündchen was yelling, ‘You go, girl!’ while we were serving our best catwalk. From head to toe, we felt invincible. And nothing, absolutely nothing, can bother a woman in a mini skirt.
Much like many places in São Paulo, Opalina required directions to be found. With its discreet entrance, the space, originally an adapted house, offered enough room for a happy hour, a night out with friends, or a rendezvous. Its intimate decoration juxtaposing concrete truly captures the essence of the city.
After climbing many stairs and working up a sweat, Vic and I settled near the bar with 92% of our legs exposed. While attempting to sit on the high seat, I asked my partner in crime if a part of my ass was showing, and she replied, “Who cares? You look stunning.” At that moment, I was sure at least one cheek was out.
To celebrate, we ordered two house cocktails for a toast. But complete satisfaction only came when Laura arrived. My heart couldn’t have been more full, especially considering she wore a mini skirt.
It was incredible how, even after 24 hours together, Vic and I had so much to talk about. We knew the lack of charisma would eventually come, but nothing else mattered at that moment. Warmed by the drinks, we decided to share a bottle of wine, which, ironically, came in a stunning transparent bag with ice. No matter how much you elevate your style, this city’s bars overtake any signs of authenticity.
With a few glasses, Laura suggested heading to the bar that starts with the letter ‘P,’ but there was still some hesitation about going back there. Mainly because the place had taken a turn for the worse (as if that were possible) in recent months. To keep the night alive, she announced that Picles now had a successor, and in the blink of an eye, we were in an Uber that left us in front of Próximo.
Próximo was clearly a reimagined Picles. The place was slightly more organized and less crowded, perhaps because it had recently opened. Unfortunately, there was no piano to sit at, which detracted a bit from the venue’s personality. Nonetheless, it retained the structure of Picles, and since we were already familiar with the layout, we headed straight to the Jam session.
Upon entering the room, we sought a spot where it was evident that we had no idea what we were doing. But who cared? We served looks that night. Sometimes, people need stories to tell, and we are determined to be the standout characters.
Between songs, Vic and Laura went downstairs to get more drinks and asked me to stay and hold our spot. However, as the band changed, the space quickly filled up, and upon receiving a compliment about my rings, I realized I was no longer alone. Skimming to the side, a blondish man standing around approached, and I, already slightly high from the numerous glasses and the famous Xeque-Mate cocktail, began to laugh uncontrollably.
Perplexed, the admirer of rings chuckled as well. When I finally composed myself, he inquired what was so amusing about the compliment. I knew I had to limit the truth, but my indignation was shorter than my skirt. Had men forgotten how to approach women, or did societal improvements restrict them from complimenting a lady’s legs?
Ignoring that his face reminded me of my uncle, and he explained that taxes would be increased to help eradicate the lack of basic sanitation in São Paulo, I decided to give him a chance. However, instead of making a move, I was treated to a 19-slide presentation about his birthday.
Tired of the conversation leading nowhere, I joined the girls on the dance floor. One of the incredible aspects of the bar was that they didn’t have the eighth-best DJ in the world, but rather an iPad on the wall to select the music you wanted to play—as long as you respected the queue and the Djavan song.
Dancing to the rhythms of Batidão Tropical, I couldn’t help but repeat that I had found my purpose in life. I wished that all girls and women could experience the power of this piece of clothing. The miniskirt not only brings a different radiance but also enhances your self-esteem. If I had been born in the 1960s, I would definitely have been out on the streets holding signs and shouting, “Mini skirt forever!”
As the energy waned, we stepped outside for some fresh air. That’s when the PowerPoint fan approached, inviting us to an afterparty. After discussing the country’s economy for over half an hour, I had no desire to speak with that guy. Despite his insistence that we go elsewhere, I stowed my decision. He then asked for my phone number to maintain a connection.
A valuable technique I adopted was never giving out my mobile number. Imagine receiving messages about the GDP or Income Tax? Instead, I opened Instagram and had him follow me. While I might not have wanted a date, engagement was still crucial.
He thanked me and reiterated that the invitation stood. At that moment, Laura nonchalantly asked what he did for a living, to which he replied, “I’m an artist.” That’s when we realized it was time to leave.
On the way back, we were elated by our reunion. It was hard to believe that so much time had passed without seeing my friends, but I knew many stories were yet to unfold. Inside the Uber, we began sharing photos from that night, and as I noticed that, without exception, I looked stunning in all the images, I felt that the sentiment that had blossomed in the Renner fitting room was about to flourish.
São Paulo may be considered just another metropolis. However, in a city where everything may seem straightforward, things often do not unfold as expected. Where you might expect luxurious coats, you find sizes, colours, and symmetries. And so, on an ordinary Friday, I found my cause. From that day on, I would spread the mini skirt’s word.
A.M.
Sexo&Cidade 
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