Have you ever wondered what it means to be a die-hard girl? Picture this: laying the sun-burnt grass with mosquitos whirring in your ears while sweltering in the late-afternoon sun while wearing an evening gown. That’s torture. But also, in a very messed up way, it is incredibly delightful!
Viktorija asked me to model for her earlier this week and I, being the camera-whore that I am, readily accepted the invitation. But I did almost regret it, as I lugged huge bins of dress-up clothes down from the top of my closet and daubed incredible amounts of makeup around my eyes. I hate ladders, and I hate makeup, and I really hate itchy grass and midges and mosquitos, but vanity always wins. And, imagining the romantic shot of myself, staring dreamily into the clouds from my sheath of royal blue satin, I was prepared to endure much greater horrors than the itchy grass if only to have the chance of realizing the images in my head. Who knows if it worked, my imagination is quite demanding, but the real point is that, even at twenty-one, I still love playing princess. Give me a dress, a field, an old house, anything, and watch me run riot in my private imagination, if you can get inside.
This summer, in Italy, my princess fascination was particularly indulged by a short stay in a Tuscan castle. What was that? You heard me right. A castle. In Tuscany. And no, it doesn’t get any better. Sadly, however, while I had packed plenty of skirts, there were no evening gowns to be had. Beautiful, gorgeous vistas of mountains spreading out from the shadow of olive groves, and the pale blue of the Mediterranean in the distance, but no evening gowns. There weren’t even any bugs. Except for fireflies, and fireflies are such innately romantic bugs that they don’t even bear mention because they only add to the lovely surreality of the experience.
Today wasn’t Tuscany. And it certainly wasn’t bug-free. But I figure you win some and you lose some, and at least this time around, I got an awesome dress.
