In my other life I was a Vargas girl. But it didn’t last long.
I wanted more than ANYthing to be a top-notch Vargas Girl, but no matter HOW hard I tried…
I just couldn’t get that “Whoops, my skirt just accidentally came off in a strong wind!” trick down.
Those poor Vargas Girls had the WORST luck when it came to keeping all their clothes on, didn’t they? Sigh. In an age where women of power are known to slyly spread their legs on the big screen (thanks Sharon Stone) it seems so sweet that vintage artists like Alberto Vargas (and other, lesser-known painters who specialized in pin-up girls) made the public exposure of a woman’s sexy parts look accidental, so everyone’s conscience could be clean. No harm done. A strong breeze, a tree branch, a dog that tugged too hard on her slip… It wasn’t HER fault.
In the spirit of those girls, what follows is a little photo-journal of this “other life.” In my real life, I am a very busy actress, who wears jeans and t-shirts most of the time. It’s so accepted these days for women to wear clothing once worn only by men, that the few times I DO get all dolled up– stockings, high heels, hip-hugging dresses, etc., it FEELS like doing drag.
DRAG. Once the domain of the gays, it is now open to all genders and all sexual preferences in the ever-widening hetero/homo spectrum. Breeders and bohemians alike can get a thrill from “playing” a certain gender– even if it is their own. And putting on not only the clothing but the emotional posture of a gender from a by-gone era can feel just as much like drag as some dude in false eyelashes with his black belt in the art of “the tuck.”
One of my favorite forms of “same-gender drag” is the 1950s housewife. The kept woman. As a single straight gal who supports herself in 2013, that is one hot fantasy role. I am the farthest thing from a housewife there IS. But deep down, I am much more domestic than I once thought. I don’t fantasize about walking down the red carpet (trust me– it’s kind of a nightmare). I fantasize about catching up on my sewing, painting that chair on the patio, or watering my plants. And someday… maybe… I’LL BAKE A CAKE. Maybe even for a handsome fella who walks through the door with a briefcase!
“IF I’D KNOWN YOU WAS COMIN’ I’D HAVE BAKED A CAKE!”
(Feel free to play the track below as a soundtrack for the photos. It’s white people singing about the wonders of electricity in a modern day housewife’s kitchen!)