Growing up, there was this wonderful woman named Alice in my church who taught us a little course on manners... and I'm sure something else. She always wore impeccably fancy clothes and fur coats. She was incredibly graceful and had a great sense of humor. She, you can imagine, wore brooches.
You know how you remember funny, random moments from childhood? Well, when I was in third or fourth grade, I had this big, merlot-colored, fake fur coat. It was glorious! I remember standing with my mom, talking to Alice as her husband removed her coat. She gave me a little advice to the tune of: Never remove your own coat, Natalie, it's how a man earns his keep.
I'm not a fan of chivalry. You've heard the saying, "Chivalry is dead and feminism killed it." Well, I respond, "Good." I don't like the idea of men (or women) being obligated on the basis of gender to do things for women (or men). I prefer the idea of men and women wanting to do things for the people they care about because they care about them. ...And, conversely, men and women letting the people who care about them do things for them. (Are you following these poorly written sentences?)
Anyway, it's these moments of pretty clear modeling, even in jest, that I ponder when thinking about prospective boyfriends and prospective imaginary boyfriends. I have particularly high standards for the imaginary ones, as you can imagine. Ha ha.
And, back to the grind...
1 remarks:
I love brooches. I wear them on my pea coat, my denim vest, and in my hair.
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