Every Tuesday I will post some lovely retro-era eye candy as inspiration (think 50's-80's decades). I will be posting photographs and advertisement ephemera that, perhaps, is quite different from modern day photography in hopes that it may inspire us to come up with parallels and concepts we might not otherwise make with modern art/photography.
Simply write a piece of poetry, fiction, flash fiction, or even create your own art-work. Anything goes so long as you create/write something original!
Leave a link to your post so I (along with others) can visit and comment. Please also link back to this page in your original post so others can find it.
Most of all, have fun creating!
And now, for our very first.
Retro Writes (Tuesday) #1
Look at the advertisement photo for a few moments and allow yourself to be inspired.
Here is my contribution:
Betty Lou's New Dress (Flash Fiction)
"I can't wait for tonight," Betty Lou whispered sultrily to her reflection.
She glanced across the tiny calendar that lay upon her glass-mirror vanity. The day, January 1st 1967, had been primly circled with red pen. She'd never anticipated a date so vigilantly as she had this one. Not even the eve of her own wedding had held so much pregnant excitement!
She dabbed some powders across the bridge of her nose and put one extra coat of lipstick on before sliding into the fluffy chiffon dress she'd bought for this spectacular event. Of course, Hank had howled with disapproval at the cost but Betty refused to be seen at a gala New Years dance in anything less than the latest in fashions.
"How do you like me now," she said huskily in her rich Southern drawl.
"It's just great, honey," Hank said with barely a glance at her smooth-shaven legs or perfectly rolled hair.
It had taken her hours just to get her hair to set. Her scalp still ached from the pinch those foam rollers left. She spun again, just for the sake of watching the light-weight material rise. The satiny, pink ruffles rose on air, climbing above the brown skin of her upper thighs. Just as she expected, and just like always, Hank could care less. He'd quit trying to please her the moment they'd exchanged vows. And that had been ten years ago!
Ten years worth of wringing the wash. Of slaving with a sponge across the formica counters. Of bleaching her hands raw on the tough bathroom stains. Ten long years of laboring over baked lamb and overcooked vegetables. All those long hours of choking down Hank's disgusting obsession with gelatin salads and food flavored of vinegar. And not one bottle of wine spent in celebration of her...not for a birthday or an anniversary. Yet the old, gray hag held no reservations in popping the tops of their best long-necks for the dry-humored boss and his finicky wife who dined for the holidays, their lips dripping only complaints. And what of his own, balding mother? Why, that wretched woman...
"I really must go," his voice broke her train of thought. "My flight leaves in twenty minutes. I really must cut this deal tonight if you want that vacation in Bermuda this summer!"
With nothing more than a casual peck on the check, he grabbed his overnight case and made for the door. He halted at the doorway to the threshold of their bedroom and threw the words over his shoulder, "But really Betty, that dress isn't so becoming after all. For a woman your age, shouldn't you be going for a more mature look?"
Well humph! She thought to herself as she applied one more coat of red to her lips.
Dear old Hank with his business deals. With his briefcase full of office accomplishments and his dreams of out-ranking colleagues at selling real estate. Frank with his balding head, bad breath, and dead libido!
When the front door slammed of Hank's swift exit, Betty wasted no time crossing the room where she pulled a fat, heavily-packed suitcase from beneath the bed. She flipped it open for the tenth time that evening, partly to reassure herself. She already knew there was over thirty-thousand in cash. Hank's complete life savings! She counted the crisp bills one last time, for the sake of sound mind, before stuffing them into the inner zipper-flap. The rest of the suitcase contained her favorite dresses and her best shoes. Hell with everything else!
"Don't worry, Hank," she smiled slyly into the empty room as she uncorked an expensive red wine and gulped it straight from the bottle. "I'm not wearing this dress for you anyway!"