“Heather’s one of those anonymous types. You know, she’s capable of doing anything, but you’re never quite sure what exactly she’s up to.”
Is it creepy that I think that's one of the greatest compliments I have ever received? My friend Mike said that tonight after making a joke about how the development of mold is all my fault. We carried on with the joke until finally my Mom said, "Why do you always say it's Heather's fault?" He got rather serious (as serious as Mike can get anyway) and said that I'm the perfect scapegoat for those reasons, which I quoted above. For some reason, I find that very flattering. He made it seem as if I were that mysterious woman on the opposite side of a smoke-filled bar; the setting film noir, the smoke rings swirling around my elegantly sculpted hair; the black gown hugging me in all of the right places. You know the type - the one who catches the Private Eye's gaze, and refuses to let him go. Will she be the damsel in distress, the double-crosser, or the perfect partner in crime or fighting it?
Ooo, I love that. Now I need a black satin dress... :)
I've been thinking about that statement all night. Maybe that's why I scare teenage boys... That was the funniest thing about being in London for the Childnet Awards. The award organizers had requested a picture once I had been told I was a finalist. This was the only photo I had available that was somewhat appealing to me, and was high enough resolution to suit their printing purposes. (Sorry for the poor quality of the linked photo - the original's on a CD somewhere, so I just scanned the awards booklet real quick.) Anyway. One of the child judges - Rishi - was about 13 or 14. We got along really well and had loads of fun that week I was in London. The night of the awards ceremony, however, I was talking with Rishi about the awards booklet when he said, "You know, when I first saw your picture was I seriously frightened," He deepened his voice and said, "You look like, 'Hellooo, I'm the new Bond girl... the evil one. Childnet will never be the same after I'm through with them.'" At that moment he imitated me, looking over my shoulder and making funny, seductive eyes. It was hilarious, but he was serious in saying that he was worried about meeting me, that I'd turn out to be some diva-esque femme fatale.
I was a little nervous after he did that - I was worried my picture looked a bit too vampish. But I didn't have any options at the time - I was traveling a lot and whenever I managed to sneak in a few moments for self-photography, nothing turned out right. Only that. (Well, that, and one other photo, but the other one was much higher on the Evil Bond Girl scale, trust me.) So I sent it in, trying to forget that I may be the most lurid looking kid in the Individual section. Rishi's comments - although they were humorous - were slightly concerning.
But, later that night I received about a dozen comments from older men at the awards ceremony - including the then CEO of Childnet, the Lord Mayor of London, and the Norwegian Ombudsman for Children - that it was the most unique, beautiful portrait they had seen in quite some time, and that I looked quite attractive. What scared young Rishi was considered captivating by the men in the crowd. I guess I'm lucky that I like men, real men. I've decided that if I had to narrow my tastes in men down to a specific type, I'd have to classify it as men. I've never gone for the boyish types - Leonardo DiCaprios; I'm a Cary Grant kind of woman.
So I think I've finally figured it out, why I never got asked out on a date until shortly before my 18th birthday, and by then the two potential daters were 24 and 25; why I can't ever seem to keep up a conversation with a teenage boy while in a typical teenage situation; why I seem to be completely out of touch with the whole 'teen scene' befitting my age. I scare the living daylights out of them because I'm the "anonymous type", the dangerous girl in the corner of a dimly lit bar, the confident one who's not afraid to take life by the throat and demand what's mine. Oh, and as Nate illustrated this week, I am obviously one among a very distinct minority among teenagers who even know who Edith Head was, let alone appreciate her style and taste. Not only that, I want to emulate her in my wardrobe. How scary is that? Like Nate said, I don't look like I'm 18. Thank you, Nate, that's another one of the greatest compliments I have ever received.
I like this new title. The Anonymous One. Maybe some day that will be the title of my autobiography. :) But now I need to figure out how to work this new angle so maybe I can catch a Cary Grant... That will be the true test of my abilities, of my worthiness to don the black dress for the role.
I think for my new mission Rita Hayworth will be my icon. I want that to be me - minus the cigarette, and a pair of sleeves added to the dress, of course (maybe add a diamond or two...). Also, I certainly won't be promiscuous, as most of her leading roles were, but she had that ability, that same Anonymous One quality. She was just so captivatingly unique. That's what I want to be to the extent that I become a professional. I think I'm going to have to order 'Gilda' on DVD for my first study in the life of an Anonymous Woman. Now if only I had her fabulous hairline... among other things.
Another classic film from Netflix entertained me this afternoon - 'Silk Stockings' starring Fred Astaire and Cyd Cherrise. It was pretty good, and some of the dance sequences were simply amazing. Especially considering that Fred Astaire was still leaping, swooping, and tapping so beautifully at the age of 57. He was certainly one fascinating man, yet another one I would have loved to have met before he died.
I think I need to get some anonymous sleep now. I'm heading out shopping with Mike and my Mom tomorrow to try to get some suits for him to take to Italy. Mom and I picked up about ten suits for him to try on yesterday, but apparently his Momma was wrong about what size he is now. None of them fit at all, so we're taking all of them back and making sure he comes with us this time. No more dragging so many heavy suits back and forth.
Good night!
