I love to browse antique markets, but often can't afford to buy anything. So it is always with an easter-egg-hunt sense of intrigue that I come upon the ubiquitous basket of vintage "found photos". At a quarter or two per photo, I can always afford to dip my hand into these treasure troves from the lives of others. Some people find it morbid, I suppose, but I love the mystery, the intrigue, the densely-scribbled pages of the book that was this or that unknown life.This one, I love. Those outfits! And on the deck of a ship! It just doesn't get any better. How I covet those shoes (not that they would have fit on my size 11 tall-girl-feet)! The pearls! The cloche hats! And, oh, best of all...the gentleman in the middle. How can I choose what I love best about his outfit? I guess I'll have to go with the striped socks. Oh, how I love that man for wearing those striped socks with his knickers!! And look at his David Niven moustache!! Beautious.
Oh, P.S., Who do you suppose was torn out of the right side of this photo?? Intrigue, to boot!
8 comments:
Oh the jealous wife who is pictured tore out the edge, for it showed the other woman. I like the man to the far left.
I thought I was the only one who loved anonymous old photos!
What is it about these people that we don't know have never met and are surely passed on that draws us?
I'm the same way.
Ah, sordid tale of long-ago shipboard romance! Clearly the missing edge contains the cad, Rupert, whose impetuous wooing swept Mrs. Callander off her feet and into his stateroom bunk before she knew it. In his arms whe felt the hot passion of youth, the passion Major Callander had never inspired. She was magnificent; reckless, foolish. She loved him as woman had never loved before...
And then, the truth: he was nothing but a gigolo, a wastrel, hoping to use her indiscretion against her. She threw him out, closing her door on his imprecations and slurs.
Alone with her recriminations, she stares at the momento of happiness from the first week of the voyage before carefully ripping his image off her arm and out of her life...
Ah, I love to see people getting into the spirit of it! Yes, yes!! Thank you for the delicious and dastardly scenarios!
FDChief,
That is it! You are an archaeologist of the heart.
Under your layers, methinks you are the man is the striped socks, the knowing watcher, who would have been a kinder Rupert.
One hopes so.
But how bleakly confrontational, real life, that cannot be more like the conventions of the movies of the 1930's...
”There is a man we both know slightly – a man called Paul Melvile.”
Lord Peter’s eyes narrowed. “M’m, yes, I fancy I’ve seen him about the clubs. New Army, but transferred himself into the Regulars. Dark. Showy. Bit of an ampelopsis, what?”
”Ampelopsis?”
”Suburban plant that climbs by suction. You know – first year, tender little shoots – second year, fine show – next year, all over the shop. Now tell me I am rude.”
from "The Unprincipled Affair of the Practical Joker" by Dorothy Sayers
Chief,
You are Lord Peter, ferreting out the ampelopsis -- no?
Days such as ours will only be redeemed through the watchful vigilance of the Lord Peters.
Post a Comment