rhinestone diary

White Christmas is on TV, Ron's watching it in the next room. I don't like the movie, don't like Bing Crosby (what is it about him that repulses me). Rosemary Clooney is okay, especially as we now know that she was the aunt of gorgeous George Clooney. But the movie is so 1950's and I'm so anti.
     I suddenly have a memory of myself watching it long ago. My parents in their chairs downstairs in the pro tem holiday TV room; a spacious finished-basement with high windows, fake fireplace, rattan chairs covered in itchy maroon upholstery that someone gave them and they love. I am at the back of the room after having gone upstairs to my bedroom and changed my clothes. I'm wearing the cheap brand new black velveteen two-piece holiday outfit;  skirt, short sleeved top with rhinestones running across the boat neckline. I've enhanced the effect with my mother's lipstick on my lips and her rhinestone jewelry (which I inexplicably still have).

I love this black grown up outfit and want to wear it immediately, not wait for midnight mass on Christmas Eve or for the relatives on Christmas day.  I wear it and dance in the back of the room. My parents are used to this behavior and pay no attention to me. I glance at the television and dance. Swirl. Sing. Arms raised. Bare feet like an improvisational dancer. Invisible audience applauds. Sisters, we're sisters.... I'm dreaming of a white Christmas....When the movie is over I'll go back up to my bedroom and put on my red flannel pajamas and the quilted bathrobe with the big pockets, the fuzzy slippers.  My brother should be getting home soon from his date and maybe we'll make popcorn or cinnamon buns together. Or maybe we'll get another crazy idea like we had once and dye the butter blue again.
     As a child and pre-teen I often repeated that dancing scene in various Television Rooms in that house in the Bronx. I loved dressing up to become for a time, glamorous and important. I never wore the black outfit after that holiday - there was no suitable occasion that called for it and I'm not sure when it disappeared from my closet.
     Today I found an astral profile of myself online and read: "your vulnerability to external influences makes you subconsciously imitate the manner and ways of those with whom you relate";  "destiny may place you in environments where your natural traits can be best expressed". Imitation of life? Imitation of imitation? I no longer dance at the back of the room during a movie musical and I try to never ever watch White Christmas.