A Month of Saturdays II

Surrounded by the wind-tunnel wheeze of the freeway, the figures on either side of the fountain square at the William Mulholland Memorial in Los Feliz arrange themselves around their queens like armies on a chessboard just before play. Another Saturday--another celebration in the park--and little girls running hoist their lacy skirts and reveal satin shoes with covered buttons; drawn to the fountain, they slide their hands over the water as if stroking a cat. The mild, milling discomfort of a wedding party at rest between photographs--the young men, a constant shrug pulling their shoulders up to their ears; the women tugging at seams, hems and each other--reveals a universal injustice: Any man can add a tux and be a prince, but no matter how many bridesmaids there are, the dress will look right on only one of them. Why is this? And more importantly, how did she pull it off?