Well, you get a two-fer tonight. I was in the shower* and thought to myself how the "intro post" is kind of a cop-out. Everyone who has ever written a blog had their first post contain affirmations about making their asses smaller, their mind more open, how it would be a process consisting of discipline, yadda yadda yadda. Everyone has read one of these and I doubt that ANYONE has been impressed or had their lives otherwise altered. So here we go. The first post of my blog where I actually share something of some relevant thought or insight.
I have realized that, since moving to Boston from Nowheresville, The South, I have changed significantly, in many ways. I lost the super unnatural highlights, the fake nails, (occasionally) the Southern accent (...very occasionally), the bright bright clothes and peasant skirts, and my keenness to talk with total strangers. Some might attribute this to the change of styles (although I doubt that bright teal peasant skirts have EVER been in style in Boston) or other, more superficial reasons.
I think that a lot of the content of one's character can be molded through their experiences in their 20s. I've lived up here far longer than I've lived anywhere else since I left my hometown, spending part of my college experience in London, which basically changed most of my viewpoints in my early 20s. However, I think that I have changed the most in my life here because of the nature of the population in Boston, or more specifically, Cambridge. Being here makes me want to be a better person, somehow. Yes, some might think that New Englanders are a bit uptight, but I think its more to do with restraint and thinking carefully before saying or doing things. I've learned to think a lot more before I say something, and I think about people that I didn't care to think about in the past. I also think that from the butt whipping that life has dealt me for the past few years, I've matured, in many ways, far more than the physical four and a half years that I've been here.
This is a HUGE subject, so I will narrow it down to (as my title states) the "Mariqueline" effect. Up until basically a year or two ago, I always believed that women could be narrowed down to two types: the Marilyns and the Jacquelines. Jacquelines, in my opinion, were boring, stuck up types, with no opinions other than the strength to which you must hold your knees together; they are the vanilla digestives of the world. Marilyns, however, are the wild, fun, flirty, outgoing party girls, full of opinions and vim and vigar; they are the shamlessly fudgy chocolate bon bons of the world.
I have always firmly believed that I am a Marilyn girl. I have had a keen interest in Marilyn Monroe for about as long as I can remember and know pretty much everything that has been made publicly known about her. She inspired me in so many, many ways, and I still think of her as someone admirable, comparable to Eva Peron: a woman who simply played the game the way she was forced to in order to get where she wanted. Due to this influence, I shimmied around in silly little outfits, flirted with wildly inappropriate men (read: unavailable men), and if it didn't happen on Sex and the City or in Stuff at Night, then it basically wasn't on my radar. I find all of this excusable because I still have time to have fun and be a party girl, and damnit! I could. I have no dependents, and according to most that HAVE dependents, being a party girl is not an option. And I won't lie. I still a million times prefer to go to a Gala or a Fashion Week event then the DNC. I don't really read the news, and all of the news I am aware of comes from the Today show when I get ready for work, or MSN.com, Slate.com and the Huffington post.
Something began to happen, though, about a year ago. I started to get more interested in Jackie Kennedy, or as she preferred, Jacqueline. I don't know if that is due to the strong influence of the Kennedy clan in Boston, or the fact that I began to see myself phase out of the silly party girl antics that I found so fun not long ago. For example, a good friend of mine, Anastasia, won a party at a bar in town. Back when I was living in Tallahassee, I would have been allllll over this. I would have been so excited, and planned an outfit, etc. etc. etc. I realized, however, after rather unenthusiastically getting ready (I was tired...) and thinking dark thoughts on the T on the way out to the bar (it was stuffy, people smelled bad, it was taking too damn long...), that I was unable for the first hour or so at the party to enjoy my time with Anastasia and her friends, as all I could think about was how sad and trashy all of the other people at the bar looked. I felt bad for them, really... they were all so silly and acing SO ridiculous, all for what? A phone number? A little bit of attention? A quick make out session in a dirty bathroom stall? And this is when I realized that I was less chocolate bon bon, more vanilla digestive. Why did I suddenly feel such deep contempt for people just trying to have a good time? When did THAT happen? I used to be the girl cheering friends on as they slipped into the bathroom for said make out sesh.
I began to do a little soul searching and a bit of research. Turns out, Jacqueline Kennedy was a FASCINATING woman. Yes, she had what is now and what I feel are very outdated, borderline barbaric beliefs on the role of a wife, but that can be attributed to her upbringing. As she grew older, she became far more independent and modern. She ALSO did what she had to do to get where she wanted, but she did it in a far different way. Now that I have lived through the party girl version of me, I not only understood but appreciated her hard and fast beliefs and gumption. Gumption... I would kill to have as much as she had to survive what she went through, and all at only about eight years older than I am now.
I began to feel like I was having a bit of an identity crisis. I stood by my Marilyn/Jacqueline ideal for so long, and so strongly, and with an admittedly high degree of prejudice, that I didn't know what to categorize myself as anymore, as well as many of my new friends. One of my best friends and long time roommates, Audrey (as I'll call her), was definitely not a wild and crazy party girl, but was also not a boring, vanilla, prude. So what is she? I decided that having these categories is rather small minded of me, but also that a real woman has elements of all of the great women in history. Anastasia, for instance, reminds me of Dorothy Dandridge mixed with Sophia Loren and Audrey Hepburn with a dash of Josephine Baker. Audrey reminds me of Eleanore Roosevelt, Audrey Hepburn, Laura Ingalls Wilder, Louisa May Alcott, and Anne of Green Gables. My mom reminds me of Sophia Loren, Jacqueline Kennedy, Dorothy Parker, and Hillary Clinton. I feel like I, at this point in my life, am equal parts Marilyn and Jacqueline. I love a good party now and again, but I now also have the gumption to see what I do and do not like, and a very, very strong aesthete. Which leads me to ask... where can I find some elbow length gloves in this town? I've looked everywhere.
Okay girls and boys. Enough introspection. I will go to sleep wearing only Chanel No. 5 and go to work in a nice peacoat and perfectly done but understated makeup. There is your Mariqueline.
*Can we just discuss how the shower seems to be the incubator of thoughts in the modern apartment? All of my best ideas, come backs, quotations, sage sayings... everything that I SHOULD be saying aloud is created when my hair is soapy and I'm at my ugliest (aka without makeup or cute clothes on).
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