How I learned to stop worrying and love my inner Edina
H. wrote recently of our Halloween spent in Florence, and because apparently I am living in the past and can’t let go, I thought I’d revisit that William Wallace-filled night with her. Because looking back now, I think that night and my approach to my costume is really rather revealing.
H., because she is gorgeous and blond and tall and, at that time at least, a champagne swilling chain smoker (the smoking thing still applies) chose to be Patsy (“It is a miracle that I can walk at all… I bless the wonder of life… and the newness of living.”) for Halloween. It was an inspired choice, and I will forever hold dear the memory of her beehive and cigarette holder.
But I was bereft of costume ideas. And as Americans abroad, it was vital we held up our crass consumer ideals for the world to sneer at. So I had to come up with something. H., helpful as she is, suggested I be the Edina to her Patsy, but I was holding out for something more glamorous, something chic and continental. Because it was Italy, after all, plus I’d lost some weight trudging up all those blasted stairs to my apartment and I wanted to show off the new sveltness. I didn’t want to be Eddie, with her rotundity and clumsiness and “the brunette one”-ism. I wanted to be hot.
So I wore a short black skirt and a black top and claimed I was a Bond girl. Lame.
Because, y’all? I am not a Bond girl. Bond girls are elegant and classy and dangerous and gorgeous and cosmopolitan and tall. And I know the idea is to be something you’re not on Halloween, but this was pushing it even for make-believe. Plus, it completely lacked creativity or personality. It’s one of those “costumes” where you have to tell everyone who you are and then they look at you pityingly, thinking, “This poor, poor deluded girl.”
It would have been far better had I embraced my inner Edina. Because Edina is loud and curvy and inappropriate and vulgar and self-involved and juvenile and fun and creative and, ultimately, strangely successful. Had I donned something vaguely Lacroix-esque, vibrant, and ill-fitting, I would have been part of a dynamic (and recognizable) duo. I would have been a character—a personality instead of an ideal.
I regret that I was so wrapped up in appearances that I couldn’t make a fool out of myself, that I couldn’t recognize that I am much more Edina than Bond girl, and that similarity is, actually, more flattering than not. No, I am not a myopic and youth-obsessed lush. But I am loud and curvy and colorful and often inappropriate. If you switched out Edina’s squeamishness about sex for Patsy’s outright wantonness, it would be a pretty good fit.
This year, H. is reprising her Xanadu costume. Maybe I should follow suit and be Edina, finally.
Eddie: Sweetie what are you drinking?
Patsy: Oh this? Chanel No. 5.
Edina’s hot. Embrace.
A Free Man’s last blog post..Science Tuesday: Outside his window he sees the water that’s supposed to be clean
Now when I say “lol” I really mean I was laughing out LOUD.
When you said “it was vital we held up our crass consumer ideals for the world to sneer at”, I was hysterical as perhaps only another expat can fully understand.
Embrace your inner Edina– I think the Italians can appreciate her.
And I agree, costumes that make you ask what someone’s dressed as are no fun.
Florida Girl In Sydney’s last blog post..Breakin’ it Down at the Opera House
I can’t count the times I’ve let insecurities about appearance stop me from having the time of my life. Most of them would have been Halloweens of the past. I truly wish we could have learned to embrace our inner selves much younger in life. Things would have been so much easier.
I’m a smidge of self-respect from being Patsy, but am Eddie at the same time.
Bond girls are boring. Except for Halle Berry.
Finn’s last blog post..It’s Up To You, New York, New York
Oh, gawd. I love that show! I’ll watch it and cackle like a madwoman while Ty just shakes his head in confusion. American men just don’t get it.
Coal Miner’s Granddaughter’s last blog post..I Just Wet Myself
A Free Man: She is rather scrummy.
Florida Girl: I totally thought of you when I wrote that.
Angel: We are our own worst enemies, aren’t we?
Finn: I could debate the Bond girl/boring premise with you. Halle’s ok, but I prefer Octopussy. Just ’cause of the name.
CMGD: Lancelot actually watches it with me and enjoys it, but not as much as I do. Not by a long shot.
Ok people. Don’t believe a word she says.
It was Pussy Galore she dressed as. Somewhere, I even have a photo of it.
And she looked FABULOUS.
FABULOUS.
Really. Seriously. I wish I could find that photo.
I think it was a low-cut black shiny button down, Italian boots, and black hot-pants.
So don’t believe her. She WAS a Bond girl.
(Fabulous!)
(ps. Speaking of ‘boring’ Bond girls, I just read yesterday the newest one in the upcoming movie was born with 6 fingers on each hand. And they’re finally doing the silhouette girls in the opening).
H.’s last blog post..A Long Costumed Past
I’m thinking the upcoming Halloween holiday may be just your opportunity, Edina….
maggie, dammit’s last blog post..Awareness
I heard about the Bond girl having 6 fingers on both hands too– and the whole thing about now there’s just a stub where the extra finger was.
If she was a AAYSR reviewer she could have given shitty blogs five flaming fingers and a stub– wow, that’s so wrong.
Florida Girl In Sydney’s last blog post..The Great Schlep
I love Edina. No one asks for a cah-poo-chino likeshe does, sweety darling.
Chanda’s last blog post..Storm Front
I love the idea of Edina as a Halloween dress up – oh god it would be so fun!
“Sweetie Darling, could you make Mummy a cap-poo-cino, with the little machine?”
If you do go as Eddie, I want pictures!!!!
we_be_toys’s last blog post..Brief Candle
God I miss this show. The fact that you referenced it not only in a post but in a real life Halloween situation makes you my hero of the day. Just promise me if we ever go traveling together you won’t trade me in some North African bazaar.
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