eleven

last friday i was at a hollywood themed party. what was significant about it is that NO ONE BELIEVED THAT MY COSTUME WAS REAL.

i was meant to be a flapper, an icon of the roaring 20's, when the american economy was booming following the very successful first world war. flapper's were a new breed of young women who had money to burn and who were laughing in the face of pre-war conservativism, ready to change american culture forever.

of course since the stock market crashed in 1929, and the great depression/new deal era lasted for a decade after that, the flappers were in reality quite a fleeting figure. in hollywood however, they live on for eternity. they embody perfectly the exact mix of elegance and rebellion which hollywood heroins are made of. if you don't know what a flapper is, then i'm sorry but you are a very sad human being.

so anyway, every time i told anyone that i was a flapper they'd say something like "you mean like a bird?" or "what's a snapper?" or "stop making shit up mez". and when i tried to explain the history of it, they tuned out and started dancing. the condescension i faced was appalling!! especially since in this case, i was clearly the more cultured and historically informed involvent (made that last word up).

by the way, the drink is just guava juice. i myself haven't thrown all conservative values to the wind. not on purpose anyway.