“With a slight toss of her head, she loops the moon into a scarf and sluices into the bitter night…”
I wrote this awhile back in my film noir heroine fantasy period.
Today, with a shiver down my to my backbone, I looped a woolen scarf inside my down parka, covered my head with the hood and rumbled into the bitter wind at the farmers’ market.
So much for sensual drama.
Mercury goes direct
I stir the soup
in clockwise circles
I saw the 1991 movie Impromptu with Judy Davis playing George Sand and her tangled liaisons with so many lovers/paramours. Wow what a life! What a camaraderie of artists. What craziness. And yet… what did I miss out on? These are heady, creative, inspiring and yes sometimes egomaniacal and flawed characters. Why do I forgive them their excesses and drama? Hindsight? Romance? Brilliance? All of the above?
Anyway, I will now listen to more Chopin and Liszt, read a full bio of the rabble-rousing Sands and add her to my list of artist/heroines including Georgia O’Keeffe, Frida Kahlo and Camille Claudel. Why is it that romantic tragedy trumps happy-ever-after in an artful life – at least in the books and movies?
the tilt of her hat
the pout on her lips
the crossing of her legs
the film noir heroine
the seduction of art
Wintry Rose, film noir heroine
I admit it. I love winter, Bogart and Bacall, fine bourbon and dark chocolate, horizontal shadows cast by blinds in a boudoir and the dangling cigarette scene along a lonely alley…
And if we are really honest, what woman doesn’t get tired of all the happy crusades and long for the old days only to be called or handled like “a dame” now and again?
Cue the music and the sound of ice cubes clinking:
With a slight toss of her head, she loops the moon into a scarf and sluices into the bitter night…
ag ~ 2015