“Now I am old-fashioned. A woman, I consider, should be womanly. I have no patience with the modern neurotic girl who is casual from morning to night, smokes like a chimney, and uses language which would make a billingsgate fish woman blush!”

 That’s the thing about 1920’s, men and women both played their parts. Women were smart and sophisticated with an air of independence about them. The bars across every street were filled with fancy dresses and fancier liquor and the jazz music in the background helped these personifications of beauty move and twirl in shimmery corsets, their deep black net polka dotted blouses shining brighter in the disco lights.

Never too afraid to celebrate their femininity, they sat with a glass of champagne for hours, playing with their hair adorned with jewels and pearls as they gossiped about how HER man couldn’t stop looking at them! Was it the genuine haziness of the liquor or the cigar in his hand or was it the cherry red lip that one of them was donning and SHE wasn’t, that was  doing all the magic? They giggled amongst each other and she flipped her hair that was curled to perfection in nervousness.

 ‘twas the 1920’s! People went to work and went to parties until they got the two pursuits confused and never noticed the difference. Whisky was oxygen, women were furniture, thinking was masochism. OH no darl, she was nervous only because the eyes of another handsome creature caught her own. Thank the gods for the black palazzos! She knew her curves would do the rest of the talking.