Mary Poppin's umbrella

Digial art based on my own stock
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Every girl and woman gets to hold Mary Poppin's umbrella once, even if only for a few seconds before deciding the color is much too strange, not fashionable at all. Those poor fools will grow up to become supermodels and marry billionaires, a fate worse than death. I mean, imagine being the wife of Donald Trump or even worse Steve Jobs...

Others will get a dreamy look in their eyes and sit down on the white cast-iron bench in the park to listen to the great tales carps and red finned bass burble. Tales of vegetarian sharks or a little lost fish, of islands that sail across the sea like galleons. The Queen of the toadstools will walk past, clad in glorious red and white, followed by a retinue of chanting chanterelles.
Every raindrop will taste like muscadet. Standing up she will find herself as light as thistledown and when he steps on the pond she'll find the surface will only give a little and that walking on the water is the most natural thing to do.
 Afterward she'll mislay the umbrella, leave it in some umbrella stand no matter how careful she is. It doesn't matter: she'll always feel the grip in her hand, the one in the shape of a smiling cockatoo and know that no matter how bad things look she can always walk down to the pond and listen to brand-new tale about Dory or Nemo.