Cadbury Eggs and the Girls of the 1950s
I finally found the eggs in Baltimore this past weekend for sale in front of the cash register in a gas station. The Boyf bought me two, but I should have purchased the whole box of them -- about 20 or so. Then again, I'd probably have eaten all of them by now. So, yeah, maybe it's best that I don't go on a creme-egg bender this year.
ABRUPT TOPIC SWITCH:
I'm becoming increasingly interested in how women lived in the 1950s: icons of beauty, career options, fashion. I don't envy the social constraints or the paltry women's rights or the way everything was hidden and packaged so the neighbors wouldn't see; believe me, I'd rather be here now. But I like the glamour of the era: the pincurls, the pencil skirts, the heels, the pleasantries, the manners, the Scotch after work, the Automat.
I'm not a big shopper -- I actually hate shopping -- but on my way home from the gym one sunny Saturday, I spotted a vintage 1950s gown in an open-air flea market that could have come straight off a mid-century society lady on her way to a Park Avenue party in Manhattan, and I bought it. All $130 dollars' worth of it. I have no idea when I'm ever going to wear it. Sometimes I think my dress would only look good on Reese Witherspoon on the red carpet. And the Boyf says it's a "fat girl's dress," which didn't win him any points that day. But having her in my closet is kind of like having a little piece of the polished image of the decade. I imagine who wore it and why, what she did that night and who she did it with, and how it all ended for her -- why this dress ended up in a Midtown flea market instead of in a museum or with her children, if she had any. This is a picture of it that doesn't quite do it justice:
And here's a lipstick holder (with tiny mirror) I got for about five dollars at an antique shop in the Midwest. I'm guessing the ladies put this on their vanity tables, along with their hairbrushes and handheld mirrors: