Blasts from the Past

 

Chilly, wild winds whip the Japanese Lilac tree around like Ozzy Osbourne’s long brown hair in a 1970 Paris gig. I feel dizzy watching the branches whirl like a headbanger’s hair, and the wind’s roar makes me want to wrap a pillow around the ears under my short gray bob.

 

The press called that 1970 concert monstrous, but I doubt it was as monstrous as the finale of the 1964 movie My Fair Lady. When I noticed the movie on TV last night, I thought a musical might be a pleasant way to end the evening. I had fun singing along, surprised I knew all the words. But then, why wouldn’t I? My girlfriend and I spent months dreamily twirling around the living room while singing all the lyrics to all the songs in all the musicals of the 1960s. I’m surprised our parents didn’t wrap pillows around their ears. Maybe they used more discreet ear plugs, who knows? Although I remembered lyrics, I didn’t remember plot details. Last night, even when it was becoming clear what a pompous jerk the professor was, I kept singing. But when the plot got to Rex Harrison’s charmingly delivered song, “Why can’t a woman be more like a man?” words stumbled off my tongue until I just sat, mouth agape. How horrible that in the 1960s we girls thought Audrey Hepburn’s coming back to be treated in a condescending manner was romantic. Yuck.

 

On a less horrific note, today’s paper carries the obituary of a London fashion designer who focused on youthful styles: Mary Quant. Remember Mary Quant? Her 1960s miniskirts and hot pants? In retrospect, embarrassing, but at the time, weren’t we chic? And Quant’s iconic haircut? It was so short, the large, signature curls on each cheek were hardly long enough to twirl around one’s little finger. She was a key figure in what was dubbed The Swinging Sixties. Swinging? I don’t know about that. In the 1960s I was not swinging anywhere. But I felt very stylish when I purchased a Mary Quant lipstick in London in 1975. Might be one of very few in-vogue things I’ve done in my life. Mary Quant was 93 when she died. She’d seen some fashion swings, for sure.