How my world turns

The world around me has always been filled with attractive people it seems. Every now and then someone lacking inner beauty or that spark in their eyes will pass by. Often, what I see or who I see isn't what or who others see and nothing drives home the fact that we are each a small world more than that. Once you realize that you are a small world and the person next to you, a completely different small world, life is easier.

The other evening, at dinner, I thought our waitress looked like Elizabeth Taylor, she was so beautiful. Perhaps the way she applied her make-up. She did not have violet eyes but her face otherwise was Liz Taylor's circa 1965 or so. Through my mind flashed photos of Liz Taylor and then I recalled Sarita Montiel. I was surprised at how long it had been since I thought of the Spanish actress. It is because of her that I learned to raise one eyebrow in photos. An affectation I can't seem to change and would like to.


























Sarita Montiel was up there with Ava Gardner, Rita Hayworth, Lupe Velez, Ingrid Bergman and all the other gorgeous faces in my old movie books. At thirteen and fourteen I was easily carried away by their photos into a glamorous world filled with impeccable clothes, flawless hair, perfectly applied eyeliner...I wanted so much to one day carry myself like these glamour girls. I don't know how successful I was, but for a decade the way I shaped my eyebrows and did my eyeliner was influenced by the old photographs. I was lucky enough to own vintage dresses that fit me like a glove and had my dreamy moments {in as glamorous a world as I could ever have}. I decided, just that evening, I had succeeded after all.

I then found myself  ordering sweet potato fries in a flannel shirt, jeans and boots. When my boyfriend asked me what was wrong, I said,"Nothing".  How does a woman explain that she is so happy and thrilled to be four months pregnant and sitting across from the most gorgeous and loving man she's ever known and yet just shed a few,  small,  invisible, superficial tears over a glamour girl left behind long ago? The once 36-24-38 hottie who could be found  wearing a curve hugging, green, velvet, vintage dress with killer liquid liner, vampy lips and cha-cha heels on a Saturday night has exited. It is hard to explain, it is something that has to be experienced, so... really, nothing. The fries arrived and after four of them, my thoughts were on how the waiter across the room could play Oscar Wilde in a biopic.

The next day I came across a record by Sarita Montiel. I had been thinking how much I loved the name Robert Diego for a boy and Anna Maria August for a girl. We are such complex little worlds.