All of this is not my fault. The coziest image I can congure up is a winter night in the house I grew up in Connecticut, built around 1935 or 40. The living room has an oriental rug in front of the fireplace. There’s dark wood walls on one side with built ins full of books to the left of the fireplace, with a window seat over the radiator, on the right of the fireplace are the hall closets with my babcia’s mink stole and the formal table clothes for the holidays stored inside. The fire is on, my father is passed out on the couch with a half glass of wine on the floor beside the couch. On the top shelf of those built ins are the speakers I’m sure my parents bought in 1980, they’re big honkers, and on Saturday or Sunday nights, there was this radio show which played all big band and 1940’s swing from about 9 pm to at least 11. I never found out when it stopped because my spot was right in front of the fire, where I’d pass out and someone would send me upstairs when the fire was down to the embers.
This combined with my mother’s deep love of old Myrna Loy and Carry Grant movies and my Father’s deep love of all things big band and early Jazz and I didn’t have a chance. I grew up thinking the 1940’s were the shit, and if I were honest, I’d have to admit I’m pretty sure of that today. Come on. If the movies are to be believed, you, as a woman, spend the day baking bread and cakes, wearing super cute aprons, and then you morph into this, with martini in hand, at night!!
I think this assumption comes from my Cioci Ann who has told of great lunches where she and her best friend who lived down the street, after sending the girls to school, would head out for a lunch of two martini’s and toddle on home happy as clams. My Cioci Ann, my Babcia, and my grandmother were perfect images of the beautiful 1940’s woman, which only confirms that it was great time to be in my family, I would have certainly been in style.
To this day, whenever I’m sewing Peggy Lee cannot be beat. Although I’m sure this didn’t happen, I picture my Babcia sewing all those clothes I hear she was so handy with while listening to Peggy Lee. I always want to put my hair up in a bandana Lucille Ball style, although I usually refrain. Few things can beat “Fever,” “Seven Day Fool,” and “Hey Big Spender.” This is sewing music.
And this is the height of dancing!
I can do this!! Come on!! The fashion was perfect for my small waist-ed but clearly child-bearing-hips figure, you’d never have even KNOW I have thighs of death!! If a Halloween costume to be believed, Greg and I would have fit right in. (The only thing I bought for this outfit were the pearls, at a second hand store down the street.)
Although I’m sure I’d be bored and defiant and upset that my brains were spent all day baking cakes and wearing fantastic figure flattering shirtdresses, I gotta say, it sounds kinda nice right about now.