oh to be a stage girl in the 30s sitting in my uncomfortable outfit, looking all feathered & positively dazzling in a dressing room packed with other feathered n positively dazzling ladies, sighing because my good stockings have ripped again & having another one of the girls touch the rip on the back of my thigh with tenderness before she tuts & says ‘that’s too bad, sugar. let’s see if i have some that will fit you’. oh to try on the same tights that have been on her legs & to have her say ‘the trick is petroleum jelly’ before she makes me wiggle them down so she can get out a tub of vaseline and make me shine from the waist down & then tell me we’re gonna be stars together one day and we don’t need anyone else but each other and for me to climb over all the snoring girls late at night to lay right next to her & hold her tender hands & say ‘yeah, ok, just me and you’
I call this one “12h in Paris”, my friend and I took the bus at 5am to arrive in Paris at 8am. We just went sightseeing for a day, had an amazing lunch, strolled through the louvre and headed back home at 8pm.
