The chauffer role exposes moms (and presumably dads) to the wisdom of preteens and adolescents, as well as a few chuckles. Toting my seventh grade daughter and her friend to a local fro yo hot spot, I listened without comment as my daughter recounted a tale of middle school romance. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. I had to add the Hollywood disclaimer. My starry-eyed offspring described how a classmate had asked a boy for a kiss in the drizzling rain. "Isn't that romantic?" she sighed. Without skipping a beat, her friend replied, "It isn't romantic if the girl has to ask the boy."
A girl after my own heart! My daughter's friend was clearly raised on a steady diet of Turner Classic Movies and AMC. Cary Grant, Bogart, and William Holden set the bar for desired male behavior and are a tough act to follow.
Since my coming of age in the late 1970s, girls have been encouraged to compete in the marketplace. We can break the glass ceiling and pursue just about any career, barring NFL linebacker and a few other jobs most women wouldn't wish to pursue. I applaud the legwork of the trailblazers who cleared this path.
However, in romance, I must agree with the 13 year old sage. When Fred twirled Ginger around the dance floor, who was leading? The resurging popularity of ballroom dancing and such shows as "Dancing with the Stars" is no coincidence. We have become so accustomed to unisex clothing, sensible shoes, and fear of sexual harassment in the workplace that we miss la difference.
When Cary Grant held the door open for his leading lady, helped her with her coat, or lit her now politically incorrect cigarette, I would swoon. I spent most of my single days searching for men confident enough to wear aftershave, at home in a tuxedo, and who would send a dozen roses along with a hand-written note, just because. Do these men exist outside of their celluloid counterparts in black and white film?
The absence of witty banter and harmless flirting has turned our world into a gender neutral, boring place. The revival of ballroom dancing and four inch heels is symbolic of our need to return to more romantic times. I, for one, have never given up the power of red lipstick, stilettos, and a little black dress. Vive la difference!
While watching tivo'ed episodes of AMC's "Mad Men," I am often disappointed I didn't have the chance to work on early 60's era Madison Avenue. Sure, I appreciate today's innovations and increased opportunities for women. But, what fun to be wearing a pencil skirt and heels while being chased around the couch by a cocktail swilling boss. Well, maybe only if the boss remembled Don Draper and would fete me at Le Cirque or some other swanky boite.
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