I have what some may call a, erm, fascination with Carla Bruni. She is, yes, the First Lady of France. How she became as such was a whole other story and scandal unto itself, one which I will not discuss at the moment. The important thing is that she is currently on a tour supporting her third cd. No longer a World Dominating Super Model, she is out doing her own thing, despite whatever clucking way the Old World Biddies in Black may be condoning her behavior. In a recent interview, she discussed the idea that yes, she was out touring, singing songs and continuing to pursue her own interests because she did have a life before she married Sarkozy.
"At the beginning, I got worried that people might take it wrong, because they are not used to it. Usually first ladies have been supporting their husbands," Bruni explained.
"I thought that maybe for a woman nowadays, you know, it's important to have a job and to keep it," she added.
How shocking that the First Lady of a country is standing up for her right to continue to be whom she is, without apology! I would guess that this is likely what attracted Sarkozy to her in the first place, the fact that she has a sense of who she is and is proud of that. I am optimistically choosing to see this as part of a new wave of women who are able to define who they are instead of buckling under the assumed pressures of how a woman should behave while in a very public position with a choke hold expectation of Victorian Era propriety. I hope that Michelle Obama follows suit. As excited as I am that Barack Obama will soon be the president, I am even more thrilled by the idea that Michelle Obama, an obviously intelligent and, ok, I'll say it, fierce! woman, will also be in the White House.
Laura Bush, as a role model, took us backward in time, by behaving as though her proper role was the Historian of the White House Linen Closet. I have found it to be so frustrating that she espouses the ideal view of a presidential wife as one who should demure to the assumptions that are assigned to her role. Bah. Do a photo shoot. Express yourself. Otherwise, what kind of role model, really, are we supporting?
This year's parade was fantastic. Even though it rained, was cold (a bone chilling 60 degrees!!) , and I became separated from my friends for the finale, this year's procession was the best.one.yet.
I began my costume preparations a month ago, though, to be truthful, throughout the year I am on the lookout for the two epic dresses that would comprise my dream costume -- either the Tooth Fairy or a mermaid. Though both would be appropriately dead.
I have tried on more than 100 dresses that could be possible Tooth Fairy contenders. The closest one was a ridiculous wedding dress that, even used, was more than $100. I love the parade and I live for dressing up, but I simply cannot, in good frugal conscience, allow myself to spend $100 on a dress that I will likely only wear once. Although, yes, I will confess that had the dress been absolutely perfect and I did, without a doubt, look exactly like the Tooth Fairy that I have in my imagination, I probably would have bought it. A great costume is worth it. Luckily for my wallet, however, I have not yet found that dress. Yet.
This evening's preparations began about 3:00 pm, which was at least two entire hours before I even needed to leave my house and drive downtown. I felt so ahead of myself that I was certain that I would have extra time -- perhaps even enough to stop for tacos en route to the parade. Little else is more amusing than eating tacos dressed as a dead butterfly. As with most fun times, it is all in the unlikeliness of the context.
The self congratulations started much too soon. I immediately encountered a problem with getting my very tall wig firmly on to my head. Over the course of the last four weeks, my head has grown, apparently. So large, in fact, that short of shaving off all of my hair, a possibility that I considered and finally had to reject, there was just no way that I could fit my loomingly large head into the very small net of the wig. After yelling, shrieking, deep breathing, and a beer, my head did make it, part way, into the wig.
The wig debacle created several unsightly patches in my otherwise flawlessly white skeletal makeup, prompting further shrieking, bargaining with a higher authority, and another beer. Face repaired, it was time to go, with nary a moment for a roadside taco -- two hours passed in an instant.
The drive to the parade is similar to an appetizer. I got all of the adoring attention but in smaller, bite-sized bursts. Drivers passing on the right would whip their necks around in an immediate double take. While stopped at any light, surrounding cars would point and alert their passengers to the oddly dressed creature in the next lane. There were some moments when I considered skipping the procession altogether in favor of driving around Tucson, surprising drivers. Again, I find such joy in context.
After parking the car and joining hundreds of other skeletons on their way to meet up with their brethren, I began to worry anew about the state of my precariously perched wig. The wind did little to ease my concerns, even though I would put my head into the oncoming gusts in much the same way I imagined an annoyed horse or a cow must do. I managed to walk a mere three blocks before the wig came off completely. I carried it for the rest of the parade, it limply resting in my arms like an elderly chinchilla.
If I tell you nothing else of the parade, know this: more people took my photo and complimented me on my costume this year than in any other preceding year. It is a good thing I don't have to put that wig on again; it will never fit on my head now.
Prostré dans une citadelle de l’occident Tu rêves d’un nouveau départ De girafes et d’éléphants D’éléphants
Eliminer les toxines qui t’emprisonnent Transcender le sodium Qui régit tes synapses Tes synapses
Je ferai le tour de la Terre Le tour de la mer Je suis un aventurier Je ferai le tour de la Terre Le tour de la mer Je suis un aventurier né
As-tu pensé à couper l’eau et le gaz As-tu bien fermé à clé Tu commences un peu à stresser à stresser
Aaaah la honte, il a les foies Aaah la honte, la poule mouillée Même pas cap’ de s’en aller Aaaah la honte !
Je ferai le tour de la Terre Le tour de la mer Je suis un aventurier Je ferai le tour de la Terre Le tour de la mer A cheval sur un poney Je ferai le tour de la Terre Le tour de la mer En scaphandre hélitreuillé Je ferai le tour de la Terre Le tour de la mer Avec Opodo point com Car la note la plus longue de la Terre, la voilàààààààà
Les Belugas de Montréal Les Gekkos de Bamako Les Cobras de Mexico Les Dragons du Komodo Les Nasiks de New Dehli Les Nasiks de l’Elysée
Les babouins de Tokyo Les babouins de la place Beauvau