Today I was out shopping and saw something horrific. A woman was actually out in public looking slovenly and unkempt. Good grief, she hadn’t even brushed her hair. Even the mask on her face couldn’t hide her lack of regard for the social mores we have come to expect from people who step outside their homes. Then I looked again. I really need to steer clear of plate-glass windows. Okay, so during our recent confinement, I have taken to wearing sweats outside the house and housedresses inside. Once I stayed in my flannel nightgown all day. Ellie, my cat, was very confused. She kept thinking it was time for bed and yet the sun was still shining. So I went back to bed.
Now I have always considered myself a pleasant enough looking woman. Upon occasion, gorgeous. This is not vanity talking. Gorgeous is a trick I picked up in my early days in show biz. Wearing something like tulle or satin, lots of glittering jewelry, liberally applied lipgloss, all done while staying within the vicinity of a 3-watt light bulb. Lastly, keep moving. A moving target and all that.
I do not make this up. It is a proven fact that these little tricks diffuse the light, keeping the subject a little out of focus. Doris Day knew this trick. So did the cameraman on her later movies. It was rumored she was often shot through gauze. When she was pushing 40 – which seems pretty young to me these days – it appeared more like she was shot through a quilt. No matter. I loved Doris Day. She was a mighty talent.
But where was I? Oh, yes. On being gorgeous. Of course, my mother, husband, and several seeing-eye dogs I’ve become acquainted with think I have my gorgeous moments. That was before. No more. I have let myself go. I have no idea where my makeup kit is. Maybe lost behind the laundry hamper. My nails are cut back to the quick. My toenails are barren. My hair is growing out. (What, what you say? You’re not a natural blonde?) Of course, I am. Keep moving.