I actually ventured out of the house earlier this evening to get some shopping done at the mall. I’ve decided that Nordstrom should be prescribed as a tincture for most every ailment – after just waltzing through, not even buying anything there, I suddenly feel inspired and my bad mood of the past few days has lifted. Of course, that might be because I got to browse through the clearance tables and saw something that made me giggle. In fact, I may just decide to go back and buy it, but the jury’s still out.

Anyway, it was this framed hand-illustrated quote from Tallulah Bankhead – “It’s the good girls who keep the diaries – the bad girls never have the time.” It made me giggle, especially when put into the modern day perspective of blogging. I’m inclined to agree with the infamous Ms. Bankhead. If anybody, she would know just how full a bad girl’s planner can become, which pretty much ebbs out any chance for a decent blogging schedule.

Those thoughts kept me entertained as I went to Hot Topic, spent too much money, and then went to Sweetwater Tavern for dinner. Filet Mignon should also be prescribed for mono – it does wonders, you know. The rest of the evening, munching on filet, and taking a quick spin over to Borders to buy the De-Lovely soundtrack, it hit me. I love the 1920’s. I love the 1930’s. I love Art Deco. I love Art Nouveau.

A friend of mine is getting married next year and I’ve been helping her plan her wedding. It’s been making me think about my own wedding, if/when it happens, and what I’ll want. Planning my what – fourth? fifth? – wedding, it made me realize that after planning other people’s weddings, I’m tired of the run-of-the-mill receptions and parties. By the time I finally get around to getting married, I can guarantee my parties are going to be truly… odd.

That’s where Tallulah Bankhead comes in. Now, I’m not saying I want anything on the scale of her partying, but I do want something in that same general style.

You know how I said a couple weeks ago that Glen Echo is one of my all-time favorite places anywhere on Earth? Well, oddly enough, it’s all in Art Deco style. How perfect! And what’s more, they have this large ballroom there that’s done in remarkably over-the-top Spanish style. Every time I see it, it makes me think of the movie ‘Gilda’, which also happens to be one of my favorites. It has this large stage – big enough for a full big band – and a very large dance floor. It’s air conditioned, it’s in the midst of an old fair ground, and it’s just like stepping back in time.

That’s when it hit me. I love the 1920’s. I’ve always wanted to step back in time. I’ve always wanted a party where I could do just that. I’ve got the setting, the means, the desire, maybe I should make it happen.

Think about how amazing it would be to have a party – not even necessarily a wedding reception, but I’ll be hanging onto this idea just in case – at Glen Echo, inside the Spanish Ballroom, but go all out. Hire an old 1920’s flapper-style band complete with that darn oboe player, have the men dress in top hat, white tie, and tails. The ladies can come in flowing silks, heck, flapper gowns if they feel like it. Just go all out. Oo, and you’d have to have one of those champagne flute pyramids, where you stack the glasses and pour the champagne over the top until it flows beautifully into every flute. Pull out every stop, cross every T, dot every I, so that as soon as you cross over the bridge into the fair ground, it’s like you’ve stepped back over 80 years of time in an instant. Suddenly everything is in excess, and ballrooms are populated by the likes of Bankheads, Fairbanks, and Rockefellars.

Music is playing, people are talking as if they were straight out of Bugsy Malone, and people are doing the charleston. And yet somehow, you’d have to make it seem natural, not at all forced. That’s one of my major qualms with theme parties, especially wedding receptions, i.e. those renaissance affairs where the men are actually wearing tights. It just seems… unnatural. Too far removed from the true essence of the time period you’re trying to step back into. The details of the time would have to be so strictly adhered to. Hmm. Could it be done without being cheesy?

Oh I hope so. I’d have way too much fun with something like that. Alright, I think I’m going to go pull my old copy of Bugsy Malone out and I’m going to cheerily sing along in the basement. That is, if my voice doesn’t give out. But hey, I’m back! My mood is great! I feel like doing the charleston myself, so I’m going to run with it while I can. 🙂 Sing it with me now, ‘My name is Tallulah, I don’t say where I’m going, or where I’m coming from; I try to leave a little reputation behind me, so if you really need to, you’ll know how to find me…’ What? You don’t remember that one? Oh, okay, I’m just weird then. I can live with that, dahling.

But, before I go, on that note of weddings, receptions, all that good stuff, I’m really glad this friend of mine found Mr. Right and they’re tying the knot. The plan is for an Easter wedding in San Francisco, which should be fabulous. Of course, that has me thinking not only of my own reception but my own wedding. Alas, fabulous wedding parties don’t usually come to pass without a groom. But what am I to do about that? Well, I think I’m doomed. At least, doomed for the next several years. I’ve decided once and for all that I’m attracted to men. I don’t just mean men in general – we’ve already established that I’m hetero – I mean *men.* I mean, boys need not apply. Furthermore, I’ve always been attracted to *men.* My first crush that I can remember was Tom Cruise when I was two. Needless to say I grew out of that pretty quickly – I think it was just the whole Top Gun thing and that him in the uniform seemed to resemble my Father in spirit, but that’s enough of that. What I mean is, I’ve never once had a crush on a boy. Leonardo DiCaprio just seemed silly to me. Hanson? Get real. Boy bands? Nope, cause they’re… boys. They always seemed too young, even when I was younger than them. And therein lies my problem. I think, even though I’d like to get married soon, that I won’t end up getting married until my late twenties, if ever. Why? Because I’m typically not attracted to men until they’re *men*, and most boys don’t become men until between the ages of 27 and 30. Only then are men comfortable with themselves, they finally fit in their own skin, they can admit that they like chick flicks or proper hygiene without fleeting thoughts concerning their masculinity. They’re – hopefully – more competent, intelligent, in-tune with responsibility, and above all, far more interesting to talk to. So, yeah. Unless I go for a big age gap – which might not be a problem – I think I’ll be waiting for a while. So, no pressure on me, now I just have to wait. I guess that means more sing-along movies in the basement all alone for me for a while. And you know? Maybe that’s not a bad thing. A *man* is worth waiting for.