Hey, sorry for the extended hiatus.
A bunch of stuff happened in my personal life that made blogging not a thing that was happening. I'd spend a few paragraphs apologizing for that, but that isn't what this one's about. Perhaps at a later date, I may go into light detail about what made this summer so crazy and all. Right now, though, it's three days to Halloween, I'm still a feminist, and I've got something to say.
This past Saturday, I went out with some friends to have a few drinks and generally drag my sorry carcass out of the house for a few hours. Expecting me to say something about the "typical" Halloween costume for women right now? Nope, sorry - totally out of luck there because I don't buy into body policing! Suffice it to say, I went the "I have a dress and now I have an excuse to wear it" route. My friend Raven is a stitch-witch and she made this BEAUTIFUL black dress for a performance and I was honored to have another reason to wear it! I sat down in my dressing area with my big mirror and I started getting ready.
Shameless costume bragging: I did totally awesome vintage-y hair and makeup. I call it my Elphaba tribute setup. Green, glittery eyes with black winged eyeliner and lots of mascara on my top lashes... Shimmer cream instead of blush... For a finale, red lipstick with red glitter brushed on over it. Yes, I thought it was right genius to dip a Q-tip in Mehron Barrier Spray and blot that on over it. Okay, yeah, that's enough of that. Back to the whole point of this!
Long story short - put my dress on, threw a vintage greatcoat over it (yay, Goodwill find!) and headed downtown. Parked my car, headed to a coffee shop to wait for my friends to come meet me - sounds pretty standard, right? Well, after people in costumes began to surface, people started to ask me "Well, what are you?" I hadn't really gone out with the intention of anything beyond "Elphaba tribute/kinda pin-up thing," so I didn't have much of an answer. So, I fished around for something more interesting than that to say about it. Then I thought about marathoning American Horror Story, first season, with Raven while she finished the dress...
"Elizabeth Short," I told curious inquirers.
"Who's that?" they would ask.
"The Black Dahlia," I told them.
Of course, THAT'S when the recognition or sort-of recognition would dawn on them. And that is when I started to think. I didn't like what I wound up thinking about. After thinking some more, I sat down to write all this.
Okay, here's a little history lesson. Elizabeth Short led a short and rather troubled life that ended in Los Angeles on January 15, 1947 when she was murdered by an unknown perpetrator. A young mother with her toddler discovered Short's body in the Leimert Park area of Los Angeles. The media of the time went nuts. It is Edgar Allan Poe who said something to the effect that there is nothing so poetic as the death of a beautiful young woman. The sort of macabre cult interest in the "Black Dahlia" murder is sick proof of that.
On the television show Criminal Minds, the team makes extra effort to say things like "Don't name the killer" and "Don't give them that fame." It is right that they say these things. Name me three American serial killers. You're maybe thinking Charles Manson, Ed Gein, the Green River Killer, the Zodiac, Son of Sam... You history buffs may think of Albert Fish and H. H. Holmes. Here's another question, though: Can you name me even ONE victim? Okay, Sharon Tate. I'm not even going to bother giving my full rant on how nuts it is that serial killers have fans and followers while nobody remembers the names of the victims
Sharon Tate. Go Google her. This is the first sentence in her Google blurb: "Sharon Marie Tate was an American actress and sex symbol." She was white. She was pretty. She was married to Roman Polanski. And she was murdered. Any movie buffs out there? What was she in? Oh, right... Does it matter? She was that sexy girl who was murdered. It's almost like we fetishize murdered (white!) women.
Okay, back to Elizabeth Short. What was she like? Did she like to dance? Who was her favorite singer? What was her favorite book? Nobody remembers those things. For most people, nobody ever does, so that's not all THAT unusual, is it? I bet you couldn't tell me Ingrid Bergman's favorite song when she was sixteen - that's not what people become famous for. But Ms. Short... Her ONLY claim to fame is being brutally murdered, dismembered, and then discarded like garbage. The crime scene photos are actually pretty well available on the Internet and are objects of fascination, from what I gather. In the words of Timon, "And everybody's... okay with this?"
I'm not. I saw her portrayed as an unhealthy nymphomaniac paying for acting auditions with sex on American Horror Story. I saw her added to the script of the show in... actually pretty decent writing, in my opinion. It made me wonder, though... What was she really like? The Wikipedia said she had trouble with asthma and bronchitis. I can't even find anything that says she WAS an aspiring actress. Are we now just making this murdered woman into a character and remembering things about her that aren't even true?
So, I'm Elizabeth Short for Halloween. Sure, you saw her on American Horror Story. Whatever, right? No. Not whatever. There's not much that can be done now to right that wrong. There's no killer. There's no closure. However, in my own heart, I am choosing to think about Miss Elizabeth Short and what she might have been like as a person. I want to give her a little glimpse of life again while I go out and enjoy myself and continue trying to make the world a better place. I'm not saying forget her name - remember it! Remember, however, that she was a human person like yourself. Remember that she had dreams. Remember that she was more than a crime scene photo or an object of macabre curiosity.
Elizabeth, I'm talking to you, sweetie - let's go out and have a good time, shall we? I'm Marigold and I won't forget you.
A bunch of stuff happened in my personal life that made blogging not a thing that was happening. I'd spend a few paragraphs apologizing for that, but that isn't what this one's about. Perhaps at a later date, I may go into light detail about what made this summer so crazy and all. Right now, though, it's three days to Halloween, I'm still a feminist, and I've got something to say.
This past Saturday, I went out with some friends to have a few drinks and generally drag my sorry carcass out of the house for a few hours. Expecting me to say something about the "typical" Halloween costume for women right now? Nope, sorry - totally out of luck there because I don't buy into body policing! Suffice it to say, I went the "I have a dress and now I have an excuse to wear it" route. My friend Raven is a stitch-witch and she made this BEAUTIFUL black dress for a performance and I was honored to have another reason to wear it! I sat down in my dressing area with my big mirror and I started getting ready.
Shameless costume bragging: I did totally awesome vintage-y hair and makeup. I call it my Elphaba tribute setup. Green, glittery eyes with black winged eyeliner and lots of mascara on my top lashes... Shimmer cream instead of blush... For a finale, red lipstick with red glitter brushed on over it. Yes, I thought it was right genius to dip a Q-tip in Mehron Barrier Spray and blot that on over it. Okay, yeah, that's enough of that. Back to the whole point of this!
Long story short - put my dress on, threw a vintage greatcoat over it (yay, Goodwill find!) and headed downtown. Parked my car, headed to a coffee shop to wait for my friends to come meet me - sounds pretty standard, right? Well, after people in costumes began to surface, people started to ask me "Well, what are you?" I hadn't really gone out with the intention of anything beyond "Elphaba tribute/kinda pin-up thing," so I didn't have much of an answer. So, I fished around for something more interesting than that to say about it. Then I thought about marathoning American Horror Story, first season, with Raven while she finished the dress...
"Elizabeth Short," I told curious inquirers.
"Who's that?" they would ask.
"The Black Dahlia," I told them.
Of course, THAT'S when the recognition or sort-of recognition would dawn on them. And that is when I started to think. I didn't like what I wound up thinking about. After thinking some more, I sat down to write all this.
Okay, here's a little history lesson. Elizabeth Short led a short and rather troubled life that ended in Los Angeles on January 15, 1947 when she was murdered by an unknown perpetrator. A young mother with her toddler discovered Short's body in the Leimert Park area of Los Angeles. The media of the time went nuts. It is Edgar Allan Poe who said something to the effect that there is nothing so poetic as the death of a beautiful young woman. The sort of macabre cult interest in the "Black Dahlia" murder is sick proof of that.
On the television show Criminal Minds, the team makes extra effort to say things like "Don't name the killer" and "Don't give them that fame." It is right that they say these things. Name me three American serial killers. You're maybe thinking Charles Manson, Ed Gein, the Green River Killer, the Zodiac, Son of Sam... You history buffs may think of Albert Fish and H. H. Holmes. Here's another question, though: Can you name me even ONE victim? Okay, Sharon Tate. I'm not even going to bother giving my full rant on how nuts it is that serial killers have fans and followers while nobody remembers the names of the victims
Sharon Tate. Go Google her. This is the first sentence in her Google blurb: "Sharon Marie Tate was an American actress and sex symbol." She was white. She was pretty. She was married to Roman Polanski. And she was murdered. Any movie buffs out there? What was she in? Oh, right... Does it matter? She was that sexy girl who was murdered. It's almost like we fetishize murdered (white!) women.
Okay, back to Elizabeth Short. What was she like? Did she like to dance? Who was her favorite singer? What was her favorite book? Nobody remembers those things. For most people, nobody ever does, so that's not all THAT unusual, is it? I bet you couldn't tell me Ingrid Bergman's favorite song when she was sixteen - that's not what people become famous for. But Ms. Short... Her ONLY claim to fame is being brutally murdered, dismembered, and then discarded like garbage. The crime scene photos are actually pretty well available on the Internet and are objects of fascination, from what I gather. In the words of Timon, "And everybody's... okay with this?"
I'm not. I saw her portrayed as an unhealthy nymphomaniac paying for acting auditions with sex on American Horror Story. I saw her added to the script of the show in... actually pretty decent writing, in my opinion. It made me wonder, though... What was she really like? The Wikipedia said she had trouble with asthma and bronchitis. I can't even find anything that says she WAS an aspiring actress. Are we now just making this murdered woman into a character and remembering things about her that aren't even true?
So, I'm Elizabeth Short for Halloween. Sure, you saw her on American Horror Story. Whatever, right? No. Not whatever. There's not much that can be done now to right that wrong. There's no killer. There's no closure. However, in my own heart, I am choosing to think about Miss Elizabeth Short and what she might have been like as a person. I want to give her a little glimpse of life again while I go out and enjoy myself and continue trying to make the world a better place. I'm not saying forget her name - remember it! Remember, however, that she was a human person like yourself. Remember that she had dreams. Remember that she was more than a crime scene photo or an object of macabre curiosity.
Elizabeth, I'm talking to you, sweetie - let's go out and have a good time, shall we? I'm Marigold and I won't forget you.
