Call me Ginger

‘Classy’. I cannot put into words how happy that adjective makes me. Subtlety, sensuality and class. These may not be the most commonly desired qualities today but sometimes I get a feeling of being in the wrong time and yearn for days past. I imagine myself, the picture is naturally black and white, adorned in jewels, shrouded in a fur trimmed shawl, my heels click and men turn as I arms wide waltz through life. Lately I’ve been, not all consciously becoming more and more the woman I want to be. The way I present myself, introduce myself, the impression I leave and image I portray are all edging closer to the person I see myself as, eventually. Gratifyingly I have been getting complimentary feedback, which is encouraging as choosing to follow an image, an idea of someone outside of the average is not easy feat. I think this boldness is motivated by my decision to fight against the perfectionist and self deprecating demon inside of me and relax a bit into my present life. To do this fully I find I need to stop moderating myself, my actions, my impulses, my image. I adore old movies but especially around the holidays I find myself drawn to them. Perhaps its the simple innocent JOY present in them, the understated nature and femininity of the women or most probably the pure glamour of it all that captivates me completely. I am my most honest self when I’m a dancing. There is something about movies of the 40/50s that enthralls me. I am each time transported by them, I watch with twitching limbs and held breath as luscious sequences unfold and stars glide across the screen skirts flowing and lashes fluttering. Oh the dancing. There was elegance and tenderness. A respect and sensitivity. Love, I just love movies of this era and am actively making an effort to reintroduce the world to them and the attitudes, freedoms and sophistication. Women were sexy, a form of sexy completely lost currently and men, men where smooth. They were ‘gentlemen’ and they were gutsy. There was no ‘game’ as there is now, a social convention associated with dating that utterly baffles me as to its purpose. There was an abandon and a sense of hope, a risk taking commitment to reaching for what or whom you desired. It can be nothing other than a romanticized version of the past, this I am aware of yet let me dream. Even if it is romanticized is it not still inspiration and does nostalgia itself not motivate change. Envisioning a different future by remembering the past and perhaps resurrecting some forgotten mannerisms and ideals is to me an intelligent and respectful approach to creating a life path to roam. The direction I choose to move in is as much dictated by the choices I make in the present as it is by the choices made by others in the past. Live and love but also laugh at the many mistakes your bound to make along the way, then learn what can be learnt and continue on. Ultimately I am each time so inspired and in awe when I watch an old movie or see Gene Kelly dance that I do wander into a train of meandering thoughts that have me wishing and longing for another time. What I take from this is a motivation to embrace the 1950s diva within me screaming to be dressed correctly and treated as a true woman. What you present dictates the response you will receive and I for one plan on controlling my own narrative and embracing the person I want to be rather than the accepting the convenient and current image around me. I want to waltz. I may and do receive some perplexed looks as I dance to the song in my head waiting for the bus or walking down the street but really if I am pleasing myself and living as I feel like living why should a few embraced stares deter me? I will be who I want to be and if I want to be Ginger Rodger I am damn well going to do a whole hearted attempt at an imitation.

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