I had a fleeting notion at the fifties fair i that could and most certaintly would live out the rest of my days as a 1950's caricature.
However as a liberated woman [ie stuck working 9 to 5] high heels, hairspray and cherry red lipstick won't be practical. The more i thought about it, i won't want to commit to just one era as what self respecting woman of the 1950's would have pranced around as the undead to the luscious lurching tones of Mr Ryan Gosling's band of misfits
Instead of convulsing with happiness to the unrelentingly heavy organ, bellowing bass and thump of the drums, the 1950's dopplganer me would have struck the pose below
I much rather dance with the children of the corn.
Which is what i plan to do right now.
Now where did i put that black lipstick...
