A year ago, upon returning from my summer trip in Europe, I came across a new concept in feng shui. After an uplifting conversation with a friend who recently moved to Manhattan, I learned that the newest addition to any apartment lacking the constant visitation of cute girls, was the introduction of a baby turtle.

My friend Matt told me that there were several venues in Chinatown selling the miniature reptiles - illegally -- because any turtles under 4 inches cannot be sold, apparently due to the high likelihood of diseases and for reasons of population control. After he bought one and named it "Mikey," he started walking around the block with it in his hand or on his shoulder, using it as an icebreaker and an instant conversation piece. All the girls at work that heard about it or saw pictures wanted to come over and see the baby turtle. His girlfriend thought the pet, as well as her boyfriend, were adorable.

I'm not sure what the attraction is; most girls do not smile and say "aw" to scaly green creatures. Perhaps it's because they are so small, and people are fascinated by anything minute that actually moves and exists in its own little habitat. Maybe it's the taboo factor; maybe a certain mystique exists because by law you're not supposed to have them. The Asian connection may provide an aura of excitement; the affiliation with the Far East could fuel the enticement.

I have to say, I myself was surrounded in marvel by the turtle, and I too found myself wanting to own one. My mother thought it was a good idea, and I had my own apartment that needed a cute little something-in-the-corner. Of course I took the whole "illegal" thing as hearsay, and had to find out the hard way you can't get a babe-magnet cute little turtle unless you buy it on the streets.

I thought about how many exotic neighborhood girls I could get to drink beers in my apartment after wooing them with a little green friend peeking in and out of its shell, mystifying them by doing nothing more than blinking. An air of suave would follow as I coyly mention the fact that my turtle was contraband, without being a ninja or a mutant.

Nothing would suit me more than to be able to entertain guests at my new abode with an interesting pet that didn't shed, smell or slobber, that no one would be allergic to. However, my ignorance forced me to think that aside from my Manhattan friend air-mailing me one, I wouldn't be able to own a baby turtle. Also, this need for the far-out just made me realize I had no personality, and I soon forgot about my quest for the turtle. I abandoned the reptilian charm for some gel in my hair and some tight silk shirts.

After a beach trip earlier in the summer with some friends, however, I saw just how incredible the "shell-shock" really was. A bunch of us were at a beachwear shop, and there they were: baby turtles on sale. The disclaimer advertised that all turtles under 4 inches could only be used for educational purposes. That was the loophole. Anyhow, these two girls hanging out with us were so blown away, that they each bought a turtle, and actually stole two more while no one was looking. Just snuck the little buggers into the little aquariums while the shop owner was reading People magazine.

The thrill was gone for me though, and I wasn't about to transport prohibited wildlife across state borders. Hadn't even occurred to me until a year later that I had my own damn Chinatown in D.C., and I could have hopped on the Metro and gotten an elusive turtle a long time ago. No matter, I had gotten over the whole "Turtle Power" fad, and I was never very good with pets anyhow. But after seeing the debutante-dazzling that my Upper East Side friend had been doing for over a year, I've come to a conclusion. I've decided that the next time I'm on Trading Spaces, I'll ask for a little green mini-tortoise to adorn my hearth.