scribbles tagged ‘Patti Smith’

Looky Likey #5: Patti Smith

Monday, October 25th, 2010 | tags: , , , ,  |

After a Martin Stephenson concert in the Portsmouth Wedgewood rooms (1995),

Martin Stephenson and the Daintees sang Crocodile cryer (1986)

Martin walked over to me and said:  I couldn’t help watching you because you look so much like Patti Smith. I found the comparison very flattering, Patti is one of the few female celebrities that is beautfiul in her own right without reference to standard definitions of femininity.

Patti Smith sang Because the night

Looky Likey #5: Patti Smith
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bedding

Friday, September 10th, 2010 | tags: , , , ,  |

my roomHe looked like I imagined Heathcliffe, all those years ago when at 12 I lost myself in the book. Even a stream of famous actors had failed to live up to my imagination.  That day in our brief conversations I found him to be softly spoken, not self-preposessed,  considerate of the other people around him. The serenity round him was reminsicent of Gregory Peck.

The collar on his large white shirt had frayed through wear. It reminded me of my sweet smelling  ruffled white bedding, softened through use, always inviting. Together the rugged good looks, slightly neglected look and serenity had a powerful gravitational force on my heart. Alas, I wasn’t looking like Lauren Bacall or Audrey Hepburn. For a moment I felt terribly tatty, wishing I had practiced the socially acceptable art of girliness so that I could do all those things that are meant to be attractive, bat long dark mascara laden eyelashes at him, step forward confidently in high heels, smile with reddened lips and glance sideways at at him though contact lenses rather than spectacles. Luckily, this suprise moment of intensley painful insecurity passed quickly with thoughts of my resemblance to the fabulously beautiful Patti Smith.

When we parted I took his hand in both of mine, smiled into his deeply dark eyes, and told him that I was certain that we would meet again.

bedding
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natural fluffiness

Wednesday, May 23rd, 2007 | tags: , , ,  |

forty-third post in a Wednesday series  detailing the fluffy contributions to  Wendy’s singleness.

Reason # 43:    natural fluffines

I was 17 when I realised that some adult females shave their legs.  

It was a hot summer day in the  sixth form  between classes.    A new girl in the school had almost transclucent skin and  bleached hair cut to look like Kim Wilde whom she resembled.    Her legs were covered in   black stubble,   like George Michaels permanent  5 o’clock shadow.      The hair on my legs was more sparse than her stubble.    Being  unshorn rather than root-stump,    my leg hair  was soft in a downy  fluff,    pleasant to touch.   My fluff gently faded in the  summer sun.    My leg, armpit and head  fluff  coincidentally resembled that of another fabulous adult female,   Patti Smith.

I remember the moment clearly because I felt so stupid for not having known that this is expected in  some constructions of feminity.   Maintianing an illusion of  pre-pubescent, child,   hair levels.   I wonder if any USA post-pubescent females, other than  Patti Smith, dare demonstrate this natural fluff in public.

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