The Day I Met Billie Holiday: A Ramble on Loving Jazz and Being a Doomed Romantic

Billie Holiday - My Man by Bodhisattva1956 I was about ten or eleven years old and we had just moved to a new house in a new town which was normal for us. We were always moving and I was always the new shy mysterious (I liked to think "mysterious" but perhaps the world just saw a pudgy redhead) girl. Maybe I'd grown used to it. Maybe I even liked it. Maybe I will always be that little girl inside, keeping quiet, full of thoughts in a crowd of strangers. I was in the grocery store, thumbing through the cds at random and Billie Holiday caught my eye. I had never listened to her music outside of the soundtracks to movies but I liked the picture, the name. I put on the headphones and my life was never really the same ever again. Strange, such an unromantic electronics section in a suburban town; a part of town that smelled new, felt new, held no memories. New elementary school with new paint and good teachers and students whose parents could afford new clothes for back to school. Yet there I was, traveling back in time, feeling and seeing things that would make me know myself, help me find whoever it is I am to this day. I could hear the band, and her voice, so beautiful but heavy, so soft but real, so pained yet elegant. The way a voice sounds has always been my little version of God. The way it can be funny or sad or gorgeous. The way you can fall in love with a song or just fall in love with a person's speaking voice. To me it is more intimate than the way a person looks. There is something about a voice that cannot hide a soul. That day I listened to Billie Holiday, I came home with the cd and I listened to it over and over again, memorizing the lyrics and lip syncing, memorizing the tones of her voice, the inflection, the pacing. I had fallen in love with her without knowing anything else. Jazz and other wonderful artists of that era would follow but Billie Holiday had opened the door and invited me inside. Maybe it is silly. I often feel very silly. But I look at that day in my childhood as an example of fate just guiding me unknowingly to things I needed but also I see it as a sort of analogy for how I see the world around me. Jazz and the way Billie Holiday especially sings it, (to me) is about both the pain and beauty of living. I specifically remember loving every single song on that "greatest hits" album however my adoration dwindled at the very last song "My Man." I found the song depressing: an abusive spouse she can't help loving. But I listened to that album so many times that eventually I grew to love it too, and to this day it is one of my favorite recordings. Should we love the people and experiences that bring us pain? No. However it is innately human that we do love people we "shouldn't." Even before I'd known romantic love, I knew exactly what the song meant, and I felt her rapture and despair and how they could happen simultaneously. How hideously tragic. How pretty. To love someone is such a joy, but to be hurt by them and to know it will happen again is agony. Addiction, bad affairs. Troubled past. Troubled present. The timelessness of the themes, the way her voice rings with wisdom, joy, hope, sadness. More than all that it's the way that music can transport us. This day in my life was unremarkable, the setting mundane, yet with this new soundtrack to my life there was magic in the air. I see all my petty affairs of the heart as these beautiful poems or wretched sagas, and sometimes I can't help but wonder if it isn't because I love jazz....a little too much.

Accidental Diary Post

Suddenly a tiny change. Anything. Something. A breath of fresh air, a window opens. An extra five dollars in the bank account. Suddenly things look up again, the impossible not so outrageous. I had cement reality boots on but now the cement is loose clay, I wriggle out.  I find some sexy stilettos.

Summer sweeps in and everything looks more hopeful. Maybe I will become a lady detective and travel  to exotic places and sip tea out of a funny cup and feel a different breeze from under a different tree. I fantasize about being a female Hercule Poirot but realize it is not so terrible to settle as someone who only pretends to be Hercule Poirot. I admit it: I'm a fantasist, an optimist, a dreamer, a joke teller. This world is full of people. People I want to love and make happy. But many strangers are frightening and the truth is I just can't make everyone happy or magically give everyone peace and force them to get along. I revert into my own world where Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly and Louis Armstrong sing theme songs for me, where all around me are possibilities...imaginary friends amid the faces of real people I've never met. I paint the world rosy. I know how stupid I must sound. But if utter happiness and hope are found in the process of regaining my utter lunacy, then why fix a method that isn't broken? I put on clothes that make me happy, I act like a buffoon because it makes me happy, and I try to make other people happy, because it makes me happy.

It's easy to waste time saying the world is ugly. Terrible things happen, tragedy will always exist, but if I can just focus on making my day fun for myself and others, if I can throw caution to the wind in lieu of being ridiculous, of feeling giddy for no reason, perhaps I'm giving life a little meaning, if just for a moment. Even now I'm embarrassed by the overwhelming positivity of this post, but then, why throw a shadow? Why feel guilty? Things are okay, I feel okay. It's okay to foolishly embrace joy, to feel thankful for what we have. For the first time in longer than I care to admit, I feel okay about where and who I am, and slowly but surely I feel myself climbing closer to the mother of all wisdom: that I don't need anyone's approval but my own.

Sunny Thursday.

Feeling better about life. The sun is out and Carly Simon is on my record player. Laundry, manicure, cleaning, everything's gonna be okay!

"I am Outraged Womanhood"*

I wish I lived in a world where it was COMMON to feel respected by men. I wish I lived in a world where this was the norm, this was the base accepted policy: that women were people with brains and feelings and they weren't interesting to men simply because they had sufficient sexual organs and attractive physical features perfect for using and discarding....like objects. This whole dating thing has left me a little disheartened. I hardly ever date and it becomes nearly impossible to trust new people when so many of them seem to want me as an object. It is terrifying to my mind, heart and soul that so many men see me as a skirt they can spend ten dollars on and screw. I am not a commodity. I am not a thing. I am a person.

I've always considered myself a feminist, insomuch that I believe in equal rights for all. I've always considered this my truth, but I've never felt so small as I have lately. I've never felt so personally and so politically offended than I have of late. I'm not actually talking about some crazy politician or his insane remarks on the female body or rape, although a lot of this circulating in the news has been infuriating and terrifying and of course a topic of discussion. I'm simply talking about the way men treat me. I'm embarrassed for the world I live in. I'm embarrassed that I can't go downtown in my own city (which I love) in heels and a short skirt and dance. I can't do that without loathing the human race. I don't want to hear excuses like "men are scum" or "they think all girls at those clubs are looking to hook up" or "that's what people do at those clubs." I don't care WHERE I am or HOW I'm dressed. I want to live in a world where people treat me like a person. No matter what. I hear my own voice in my head saying "You're asking for too much," And at the same time, I'm replying "No. I'm not." It's not just about America. It's just not about downtown. It's not about men hitting on me in bars. It's not about "how hard it is to be pretty." This is about humanity and I'm a person. I deserve to be treated like one. We all do. And I'm sick of apologizing for asking for more. I'm not doing it any more. If this is what I'm supposed to expect and put up with because "that's just how it is", well frankly that's just not good enough for me.

I have no qualms with men and women who want to embark upon casual relationships or flings or one night stands. That can be great if it's what you're looking for, and I wish everybody safety (and caution) and a good time. However I just can't help but feel offended when it seems that everywhere I go, men want one thing from me and don't even care if they get to know me. I'm sure good men exist, after all I'm friends with some very good ones. But the fact that I'm a female stranger shouldn't automatically place me in the category of "potential meaningless sex" right? Even if chemically, a man can't help thinking about it, does he have to treat me that way?

The downtown example is simply that: an example. The trouble isn't this one instance, the trouble is that it is self repeating and this evening I speak of was just a tiny sample out of all the downtowns and all the people and all the men in the world. I know this frustration isn't new and my circumstances are far less dire than those facing countless women worldwide. Perhaps I'm being silly and overreacting.
All I  know is, my heart is heavy and my brain is tired and I can't go on pretending I don't mind being objectified to my own face.

*The Great Dorothy Parker. If she were living today, I wonder what she'd think.

The Healing Powers of Hepburn

Art by Cecila Sanchez

 When I say Hepburn I refer to Audrey Hepburn first and Katharine second. Both of them are my imaginary best friends in their unique ways though truly Audrey was my first love. When I was younger I watched her movies over and over in an almost religious fashion. And over five years ago when I went through my first heartbreak over my first love I probably watched Breakfast at Tiffany's at least four times a week. Even if I was sometimes awoken by the party scene when Audrey yells "TIMBERRR!" as Mag Wildwood drunkenly falls to the floor with a resounding thunk, the melodies of Henry Mancini lulled me to sleep and comforted me. Something about Audrey Hepburn being graceful and beautiful and silly. Her simple glamour, her spirit. This legendary woman I never met who lived through WWII as a child and transported messages to the Allies and ate bread made of grass and studied ballet but became a movie star. She was famous but she seemed like a friend. A beautiful friend who picked me up and told me to walk out the door looking fabulous and somehow everything would be okay. Strange that a movie star, portraying a character in a movie, could somehow cheer me up the way people I knew in real life couldn't.

And today, when I didn't want to get out of bed, I put on Breakfast at Tiffany's again. The notes of Moon River, her back to the camera, her giant hair. Givenchy. One of the most beautiful dresses ever designed. This beautiful woman. This imperfect character, all alone, eating a Danish. And suddenly, again, I know everything's going to be all right. Somehow. It's a piece of art. A piece of fiction. It's Hollywood and it's "just" a movie...but something about it is my gospel, and I am forever thankful for the fantasies that get me out of bed each day. I'm going to go put on some make up and go to work. I hope whoever reads this is having a lovely day. I'm going to be okay, and so are you.

Crime and Jazz and Justice and Guns and 1970s Trench Coats; These are a Few of My Favorite Things

These are a few of my favorite things...in Movies. I honestly don't know how I would react if faced with crime and violence in real life. I'm a sheltered gal who lives off fictional crime. Also I really don't go in for modern day (or modern films set in modern day) crime films/tv shows as often. Drive was an interesting film because I appreciated the noir vibe, but I also really detested the harsh violent scenes. There was no outsmarting a bad guy, there was no humor, there wasn't ever anything silly or lovable amidst the darkness. Modern crime movies I do enjoy include Reservoir Dogs (which does its share of harkening to films past) and The Departed. I'm sure there are others but I can't think of them.

But down to business....let's talk about crime movies I love/recently watched for the first/semi-first time.

SERPICO 1973 I confess I knew about this movie as a pop culture reference from Wes Anderson's Rushmore for over a decade before I finally watched it. I just kind of love 1970s movies sometimes. The clothes, the attitude. I feel like all movies in this era have a sort of hippie revolutionary feeling. No woman is ever in a bra. She's often working at a newspaper or law firm and very strong, and for the first time there are a lot more African American characters with legitimate speaking roles that are more central to the story. In Serpico, Al Pacino plays the only determinedly just cop on the NY police force, while he is also the least well-kept and most left wing. Al Pacino is wonderful. Go watch it.


THE CONVERSATION 1974 My mother and I watched this movie together when I was probably around ten years old. We used to go to the video store and just walk around until we found something. If she said a movie was really good, sometimes she'd need to talk me into it, but I usually trusted her. The music is perfect as is Gene Hackman's portrayal of a sound recording expert who fears his work may lead to murder.


THE TAKING OF PELHAM ONE TWO THREE 1974 The music at the beginning of this classic heist movie said everything I needed to know. CRIME JAZZ. What can be better than crime jazz? Yes, I will watch this. And yes I will enjoy it. Walter Matthau. Men in moustache driven disguises. Did I mention CRIME JAZZ? For people my age, this movie is Speed.....but way better. And CRIME JAZZ. Sorry, I'll stop saying it.
I could also talk about Dog Day Afternoon and Goodfellas and The Godfather and then talk about film noir and the fact that I've only seen one or two James Cagney movies despite my unyielding adoration for that man but I feel I've rambled enough for now. Perhaps I shall post again and perhaps it won't take seven months next time....

Let's Do This...Let's Talk Jane Austen

Jane Austen is timeless because her stories are about women struggling with friendships, family, and of course, men. Every year somewhere some woman writes an article on Jane Austen for some lady mag like Vanity Fair or Cosmo and every year it's true: Jane Austen understands us. She tells it like it is. No we're not all still obsessed with marriage and we live in a different world in terms of law and career and we don't need men to SURVIVE. But most of us still like to dream about romance...to dream about someone who will be a gentleman. Also she simply writes about real people that we all know. The fact that these novels were written two hundred years ago is so beautiful to me. So much has changed in terms of technology and the way we court each other and live our lives. However, the human being is much the same, and the way we feel and interact person-to-person remains unaltered.

Sometimes I nerd out because some of these stories feel like looking in a mirror. Do you ever feel like Elizabeth Bennet and you're surrounded by Mr. Collinses? I do. Or you're Emma and he is Definitely an Elton and she is Definitely a Mrs. Elton? Me too. Or you are crying over some son of %^& bastard and you realize you really are being ridiculous....you're being a Marianne Dashwood, and you know deep down you'll get over this. Even though that Willoughby was terribly entertaining for a while. Yes, yes, yes.

I'm probably the billionth lady to ever think and say all this. It's nothing new, but sometimes you have to celebrate something, even when it's old.

First Ever Guest Post: Embracing the Vintage Glam in Times of Trouble

The ever-confident and inspiring Mae West.

A couple of months ago, I was contacted by Jackie Clark, who does outreach for the Mesothelioma Cancer Alliance. She asked if she could write a guest post on the topic of women faced with cancer. I've clearly been lazy about this blog, but this seemed like a really good reason to post again. I hope her article inspires whoever stops by, and that you check out Jackie's other articles. Thanks, Jackie!

How Vintage Fashion can be a Source of Comfort and Strength

By Jackie Clark

A cancer diagnosis can be a horrible jolt to a once-peaceful life. It is important for a woman to do things to stay positive at this time. A strong focus on recovery can help you through strenuous treatment, and you may want to indulge special interests at this time.

Vintage fashion can offer not only exquisite outfits to wear, but also serve as a source of comfort. A favorite silk-lined wrap, for example, may bring fond memories of your mother. These comforting thoughts can help ease the stress, particularly in more severe cancer cases such as mesothelioma from asbestos exposure.

Treatments can drain every ounce of energy from you. At this time, you need to rest to regain strength for the next round of treatment. Different sites online can help you indulge your vintage fashion fantasies as you review styles, possibly for purchase. You may find, for example, original Coco Chanel coats for sale through an online vendor. You may then want to search for matching shoes and a purse. You can do all of this from the comfort of home without even leaving your bed. This may do wonders for your spirit as the images take your mind off your condition.

If you love this type of fashion, then the pieces you wear remain a constant expression of yourself that won’t change, even as your body and health may experience radical upheaval from the treatment. In the spirit of fashion, you can try different things to enhance your look as you make the side effect of hair loss work for you. This is your chance to go blonde if you are a brunette, for example. In doing so, you keep fighting to maintain your positive mental outlook to help you get through tough treatment.

These elements of fashion can take you back to a time that was simpler, or remind you of relatives long gone. You may have inherited pencil skirts from your mom or grandmother that remain stylish today. If one of them lost a battle with cancer, you may want to wear their heirloom clothing to show that the fight continues. Their struggles also may remind you how far we have come with medical advances in cancer treatment.

Vintage fashion can serve many purposes beyond making a visual statement. These pieces can keep you tied to those you loved in your life, and remind you to treasure every moment. Vintage quality and style can give you a source of comfort as it offers you something familiar to cling to when surrounded by new and unfamiliar settings. The clothing can give you the confidence to feel beautiful and appreciate every day for its special gifts of life.

Things that make me happy

The space heater my mother got me.

A tv with a vcr and dvd player in my bedroom (that's right I still own videos....Muppet Christmas Carol, here I come).

Xtabay Vintage (I finally went inside and nearly fainted, it is SO amazing).

Tea on a tea tray with milk and honey, tea cup and saucer.

Having problems like: "Where do I want to sew on this fringe?" and "Do I need more sequins?"

Living in a place where I can walk outside and see lots of people milling about, but not TOO many. Not New York amounts of people.

Christmas....I must start writing those cards!

Carly Simon (EVEN though I've had Nobody Does it Better stuck in my head for three days)

My pale pink walls

There's nothing wrong with being a single young woman, but I'm thinking maybe I shall adopt an imaginary pet so that I can sign the Christmas cards this way. I imagine that said pet would also make me very happy. My roommate's cat and I are getting to be friends, but you know, this imaginary dog thing has been on my mind for a While.

Vera Ellen EXPLOSION

So it's been one of those days where I planned to be good and get a lot of practical things done and somehow all I've done is swallow lots of tea and play on the computer and listen to an amazing Liza Minnelli record. OH WELL. Anyway the internet led me to some Vera Ellen stalking and she really is Amazing. Clearly from my blog, you can see I like her, but I feel I need to see more of her movies. She was just such a killer dancer, and so adorable, and she had some Fantastic costumes. Let's gush over her amazingness now, shall we? Oh yes, let's.

Discovery from the past.

I was looking for a cheesy 50s cha-cha song that I love that comes on at work, "It's so Nice to Have a Man Around the House". It's really catchy and cute, with strong lady vocals (Della Reese) and makes me want to dance around in vintage clothing. Also, it's one of those rare songs that makes me so happy I forget I don't actually have a man around the house (boo). So I searched on youtube and found all these amazing songs by Della Reese, including an old country western favorite of mine from 1949, "Someday you'll want me to want you." Her version is bluesy and jazzy, but then there were all these other videos of different singers covering this song and I discovered someone I'd never even heard of: Kitty Kallen. Cute name, cute voice, cute style! I think her big hit was "Little things mean a lot". I recognize it from movies.

A so-so poem

Love Song for an Imaginary Pet

I don’t have a dog.

the rain falls and I wish a tail would beat near a fireplace.

he would set his chin on my knee while I knit (I should take up knitting with this fine beast at my side)

his name, Horatio, Ralph, Douglas Fairbanks, scrawled mechanically, tightly on his collar, he jingles when I call and I love the sound of his little paws, dirtying up the rug.

he smells but he is my friend and he thinks me odd when I cry.

he loves the fire, the food that I carry out of the stove, he barks when I come home

only to say he missed me.

he never likes me to leave.

he loves me.

he is devoted.

he may chew and tear and shred and hurt, but only out of adventurous spirit, never malice or contempt.

he knows I love him when I set him down the little bit of steak I can not eat.

he knows I would never harm him.

he rests his chin on my lap while I knit (now that I knit, with my Spike, my Ralph, my Douglas Fairbanks).

I don’t have a dog.

Ramble on Womanhood and Beauty, whatever that is.

I was sitting here looking over some photos I took recently and considering the angles on one (somewhat unflattering in my opinion) and my face in another (black and white, my hair and make up done..I think I look a bit lovely, honestly). I start thinking about beauty (that huge monster of a word) and the way women think of themselves in regard to it. It makes me so sad to think how some women constantly belittle themselves over this ridiculous idea that to be pretty or beautiful they must look like someone else, that being themselves, that the faces and bodies they were given are second-rate, are wrong. Maybe I was raised with insanely supportive parents (very likely). From an early age I was constantly complimented by my parents as well as strangers. I wasn't the Smartest or a baby pageant queen (thank goodness) but I was sharp and was a pretty good kid, and despite the angsty middle school years when I lost weight and the awkward high school years when I desperately craved a love life, I never felt ugly. Yes, I have days where I'm blue and I cry and look in the mirror and despise myself, but those days pass and for the most part, I like the way I look, and I like to dress myself in a way that makes my individuality even more pronounced.

I've always felt that in order to survive in this world, I need to feel that I am the absolute best at being myself. That no one can be Margaux as well as I can (granted I'm aware there are others with my name, even my spelling...you know what I'm saying). I may be goofy or awkward or shy sometimes. I may get runs in my stockings, my make-up may run, my nails may be short, I may be a lowly restaurant girl, saving my pennies, but at the end of the day I have to believe that there's something perfect about all my imperfections, even when my nose looks like a 747 from certain angles, and even when I notice the size of my thighs.

After all, Audrey Hepburn and loads of other women became famous because why? Because they were a little bit Different. If you embrace what makes you unusual or out of style, you become a trendsetter. This is why I wish more women could just love what makes them weird, think of it as a gift, not a curse! We think of beauty as something universal and unchanging, but it is just another form of fashion, and I don't care who you are, you're beautiful BECAUSE you're different, not despite that.

PS Sorry I got all Oprah.

Hallowe'en Approaches!

I know I've got over a month, but I'm in a very autumnal mood and am especially excited for Halloween this year as well. The Bride of Frankenstein came on tv and I decided to watch it for the first time (I was on a role since I also watched Citizen Kane for the first time, today). I really love the way Elsa Lanchester is made up in the film. The 1930s make up, the crazy fingerwave-fro with the white streaks. I'm strongly considering being her for Halloween as the costume would be easy and the look is mainly about strong make up and hair which would be super fun to experiment with (mwa ha ha ha).

See for yourself:

If you're feeling generous....

Vote for my photo on the Mad Men walk-on role contest! It's not the prettiest picture of me, but I thought it was funny and Mad Men era-appropriate.

my first cheesecake

I think coffee, beer and cheesecake are just things you like more and more as you get older. Okay, maybe I'm the only one who looks at cheesecake this way. It just seems like a grownup dessert to me...and over the past year or two, all of the above have begun to appeal to me much more. I watch a lot of The Golden Girls and I adore how they always have late night talks over cheesecake. So I popped on an episode and made my first cheesecake from scratch. It wasn't difficult but it took a lot of time-mainly because of the graham cracker crust which was challenging to keep stuck to the sides of the springform pan. And yes, it was also my first attempt at a recipe from this gem of a cookbook from 1995, Cooking with Friends. I'm such a nostalgia nerd.

I finally did it.

Still waiting to hear on a job, but in other news...I finally opened up a wee etsy shop! There are only five items including a very small (32" bust, 25" waist) but very cute yellow 1950s dress. I hope to expand on this a lot eventally!

Party like it's 1939

My mother's non-profit had an event at a vintage car show, so I dressed up as 1937 (not 1939 as this post title might hint) as possible, to match this 1937 Alpenrose milk truck and even did my hair in finger waves. To my shock, the wave setting worked wonders this time (I now see the light-the hair MUST be soaking, not just damp, etc). I had a lovely time taking pictures with folks and just looking at all the pretty. On a side note, I realize that the next time I have money that isn't needed for Responsible things, I'm going to invest in some vintage-y shape wear as this garter-belt-showing-through-my-dress look isn't Quite as sophisticated as I would like.

A couple owners let me sit in their cars too!

I met this adorable lady named Dijon (just like the mustard) whilst looking at this big gorgeous, silly-fantastic car. She was dressed completely 1920s style along with her beau who wore a boater and suspenders.

Reasons you want to go see Captain America: The First Avenger

Stanley Tucci, making movies better since 1985

If you're like me, you love movies and you REALLY love movies with a big budget that are set in an attractive period of the past. If you're a lot a LOT like me, you love the 1940s, and your boyfriend loves Marvel. This movie has pretty much everything. It's not the Best movie I've ever seen, but it's a great movie to go see in the theatre. Action, adventure, a little romance, girls dancing in a can-can line in WWII patriotic costumes, and beautiful, inspiring vintage hairstyles worn by Hayley Atwell. Oh, also STANLEY TUCCI. Oh yes, Chris Evans is also a rather lovely specimen. He is no RDJ but, you know, he's cute and all.

Pretty hair!

Cuteness.

WWII Era Girl Power.

Mad Men Hair

I finally put up this video I made a few months ago. It's nothing SPECTACULAR and the angle isn't great, but ya know....it kind of works for Joan hair.