I’m your Vitameatavegamin girl! Are you tired? Run down? Listless? Do you poop out at parties? Are you unpopular? The answer to all your problems is in this little bottle. Vitameatavegamin. Yes, with Vitameatavegamin, you can spoon your way to health!
I’ll spare you the rest, though I could easily keep going. It’s been years since I last saw this episode of I Love Lucy, but repeated viewing in my childhood has burned the Vitameatavegamin speech, as well as some other key episodes, into my long-term memory.
I had a bit of a thing for Lucy.
Just like I kind of like steak and I’m sort of obsessive.
I remember being about eight when I first found out that Lucille Ball died in 1989. I was outraged because she had the audacity to die before I got old enough to meet her. Because, you know, the likelihood of my meeting Lucille Ball would have been EXTREMELY high, had she lived another few years.
I wasn’t always the most realistic child.
In any case, I watched the show religiously. And though I rarely watch it anymore, there are bits and pieces of it that have stuck with me.
Case in point: My obsession with retro dresses and traditionalism.
This particular obsession has made several of my friends question my sanity… but really, that’s nothing new. Still, I do catch a lot of flack when I say things like, “I love June Cleaver,” and “I’d love to have a hot meal on the table for my husband when he gets home from work,” and “Every self-respecting woman should now how to bake a pie.”
But before you send the feminists to lynch me, consider that I do actually plan to be a working woman. I’m not likely to fall into complete subservience just yet… it’s just…
There is something inherently satisfying to me about putting on a dress, cooking dinner, and cleaning a house. There is something I love about being able to really run a household, so that everyone is taken care of. It’s order at its greatest, and it makes me feel like I’m a part of a tradition. And a part of I Love Lucy.
Those women RAN those families. They did it all. They took pride in their homes, their meals, and their appearances. Of course, the television families made it look easy – but in reality, the jobs that the “traditional women” held running their homes was, and is, grueling. To do it well is to accomplish something incredible.
Another thing I love about the I Love Lucy era is that the manners and customs were so… formal. It would probably drive me crazy in real life, but there is something to be said for men who stand up when women leave the table, for having the door opened for you, and for wearing a suit or a dress when going out to dinner.
Which brings me to the dresses. The real reason I’m writing about this.
I have a deep and abiding love for 1950s dresses. Shirtwaist, rockabilly, swing skirts. Anything with a fitted bodice and a looser skirt. I love polka dots.
Did you know that?
I REALLY love polka dots. And cherries. And pink, turquoise, and black diner colors.
The problem is that my new dress style obsession is a little more expensive than I’d like it to be. Take THIS dress:
I’m in love with this dress. I want to marry it and have its babies.
I didn’t just admit that.
What I meant to say was, “I truly admire the fit and design of this particular garment, and would be honored to have such a splendid dress adorn my body.”
Cause, you know, that just sounds better.
Despite my feelings of love for this dress, I do not own it. Why, you might ask, would I not rush right out and purchase such an exquisite article of clothing?
Because, I would tell you, it’s a $100.00 dress.
And I can’t justify spending that kind of money on a dress that, for all intents and purposes, could be made with a few yards of fabric, some buttons, and trim.
I truly believe that we should adopt retro-pricing for retro clothing. Something more like $15.00. That would be acceptable.
Maybe I could e-mail the website and talk them into it?
You don’t think so?
What would Lucy do? She always had a plan.
Of course, she also ended up in a whole mess of trouble. But at least everyone loved her.
One of these days, I will be rich. And then, I will go shopping. Of course, to get rich, I’ll have to work. And it’ll be hard to be a therapist dressed like a 1950s throwback. And by the time I’m rich enough to afford 100 dollar dresses, I’ll be too old to pull them off.
Sometimes life just ain’t fair.