Chic Contentment

This was written last night around 11pm...

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I often feel like all I have is chic. Its like that Judy Garland song “If love were all”…”I believe that since this life began the most I’ve ever had is the talent to amuse”. So true. Amuse and exude style. The two combined is a powerful combination, no doubt. But it also can be excruciatingly lonely. Even when there are dozens around you , lapping it up, basking in the glow of glamour and the warmth of wit, wisdom, and compassion.

There are times when you want to put chic down…or the effort of chic, more precisely. You can’t stop being what you innately are. But the effort sometimes feels empty….especially when it has to be used as a filler for other things that are missing. Spending the late evening planning new ensembles for the week, or creating a new piece of jewelry, or dreaming of more elegant costumes for exquisite evenings that may or may not be on the horizon WHEN you really just want to be watching a movie, snuggly in the arms of one who loves you and whom you love in return. It gets played out real quick…especially when its nightly or daily over a period of time.

Chic is my passion. Its one of my raisons d’etre. It always will be. And as long as I live, I will be perpetually in pursuit of that which is chic. But I know there’s more and I want it and yet it seems to be so elusive for some reason. I come close, but it never lasts, or its never right. So I end up sitting in my den in some fabulous get up, with no place to go and no one to be in the moment with. Or lying in my bed, staring wistfully and wantonly at the ceiling with a magnificent jewel on my finger and maybe a mink piece in petting distance, listening to and FEELING Phyllis Hyman. I think I shall retire to the latter now. If wallowing in the truth of my emotions doesn’t feel right tonight, then I’ll just escape into a Bette Davis film…or maybe Hitchcock…something distractingly mesmerizing.

As I write this though, I think maybe the problem is that I keep expecting something to change. For the outcome of my efforts toward greater fulfillment to be different “this time” for some reason. Maybe I should resign myself to the fact that a chic life is all I am entitled to and to somehow make that and let that be enough…eliminating the desire and the expectation (and subsequent disappointment). I do feel I am worthy and deserving of something more and I guess that keeps me from complete resignation to the state of things as they are, but because I am worthy and deserving doesn’t mean a thing in this life. I still may never get it, so accept it and move on contentedly.

I suppose I should clarify for those who may misconstrue this. I have much more than just chic and am extremely grateful for the people and things I have in my life, as well as my many other sterling qualities. But chic is one of those things that is uniquely and solely mine…the way a real, great love is. So what I am lamenting is having only one passion- chic- rather than two: chic AND a love of my own. Why do I place chic on the same plane as great love? Because its exclusively my own. Even my wit and wisdom aren’t exclusively mine as I know many who have my same sense of humor and kind of wisdom…they are my friends. But there is truly no one with my exact same special brand of chic. But I digress…

Contentment with chic…correction:GREATER contentment with chic…we will work on that…
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I ended up watching my tape of Judy Garland live performances from the 60s. Did the trick. :-)