Did you ever want to be somebody else for a little while?
See what it would be like to be Eleanor Roosevelt or Marilyn Monroe?

I’ve always thought about being the world-renowned cabaret chanteuse
Edith Piaf and singing torch songs about love, loss, and sorrow.

I know I’d have several problems. First of all, I can’t sing. But I do know the English words to two French songs: La Vie en Rose and Say Si Bon, and one even in French, Frere Jacques.

Another problem is what I’d wear. I wouldn’t consider dressing like Edith Piaf. Her signature outfit was an unadorned short black dress. Even Mother Theresa’s signature white sari had three blue stripes.  

Who in their right mind would wear a plain black dress if they could wear a black satin strapless number like Rita Hayworth wore in the movie “Gilda”?  Hopefully, I could find one in size 14/16.

I saw the movie “Gilda” several times. The movies were where I learned about life. Mostly about the life I didn’t have. I know all the words to “Put the Blame on Mame,” the song Rita sang in that wow of a dress in “Gilda” that looked like the top was falling down.  Actually, I think “Mame” is a French word so maybe I’d put that song in my Piaf repertoire

Edith’s black dress didn’t even have bananas on it like the amazing “Black Venus” Josephine Baker who took Paris by storm even though she came from Missouri. Josephine was in the Folies Bergere in the 1920s. She didn’t have to worry about her top falling down. She didn’t wear one. Her costume? A short skirt of artificial bananas and a beaded necklace. People who didn’t even like bananas adored her.

There would also be the eyebrow problem. Edith penciled in her eyebrows
but I like Brooke Shields’ eyebrows better. What ever happened to Brooke?
Oh, the plight of child stars.

And, of course, there’s the size problem with Edith. Edith was only 4’10” and was called “the Little Sparrow.” I’m more like “Big Bird.”

Actually, Edith and I had little in common really except heartaches over men. But she had a lot more headaches and a lot more men than me.

Do you think a white gardenia in my hair would be too much? It worked for Billie Holiday. And a red feather boa draped over my shoulders like Julie Wilson? I do like accessories.

Julie Wilson wore a white gardenia in her hair. I wonder if she copied Billie Holiday or Billie copied her. It’s very important if you copy someone, you choose someone good.

Julie Wilson was considered the pinnacle of the cabaret world—but weren’t they all? Julie sang at the swanky Carlyle Hotel in Manhattan but I bet she wouldn’t stay there today. A single starts at $1,300 a night, plus taxes and fees. BTW, Julie came from Omaha, Nebraska. I guess you can’t come from New York if you want to be a New York cabaret singer.

Of course I have to mention the cabaret singer The Incomparable Hildegard. Does anyone beside me remember Hildegard? I saw Hildegard singing at the Persian Room when I was 17. I thought she was a little strange but the older, martini crowd loved her. Her theme song was “Darling, Je Vous Aime Beaucoup.” I don’t know the words but it’s French so I might include it in my repertoire. She always carried a long white silk handkerchief but that accessory doesn’t thrill me. Maybe if it had some sparkles. She didn’t come from New York either. She came from Adell, Wisconsin. If you don’t know Hildegard, you certainly don’t know Adell.

But after I saw the Ken Burns Country Music special on PBS, I thought for five seconds about being a country singer. I’d fit right in. There’d be Reba, Shania, Patsy, Miranda, and Gingy.  I know the words to The Tennessee Waltz, Deep in the Heart of Texas, and On Top of Old Smokey. But then I thought I was not going to cut my nails to strum a guitar or be limited to wearing a cowboy hat, fringe, and boots. I just couldn’t live without accessories. Anyway, since I come from New York, I guess I have no chance at country or cabaret.

But who’s the fantasy person you’d want to be?

You’re just a button click away and I’d love to hear from you. 

About your world, your family, your joys and frustrations, growing up, growing older, even recipes– even though I stopped cooking–by request–years ago.

Goodbye until next time…

Hope your day turns out as well as I hope (but doubt) mine will,

Gingy (Ilene)