If Only I Had A Time Machine

When you lie around in bed, or stand under the hot stream of the shower, or really wherever you do your best thinking, has the thought ever crossed your mind that maybe you were born at the wrong time? Maybe it’s just me but when I let my mind wander, and this is after I’m done stressing about school and life, and my mind is just free, I often go back to the thought that I was born at the wrong time. To be exact, I should have been born in the twenties. I would have loved to have been born in the twenties. Now don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t give up modern technology for anything (life without Netflix is no life at all), but I know that in my past life or some alternate universe I was a flapper all the way.

Just imagine growing up in the golden era of basically everything: fashion, music, movies. I never could understand how fully-sequined dresses covered with fringe went out of style. And the pinned up hair with headbands and feathers, I mean, could anything be better? Men’s fashion too: always a suit and tie and of course a hat, and nothing was cuter than that slight hat tip to the ladies. Everything and everyone was just so much more elegant. It’s simply impossible not to ooze class while wearing elbow length satin gloves.

I would have loved nothing more than to get all dolled up and hit the town. Because you just know the parties were spectacular. This was The Great Gatsby era, the beginning of jazz with swing soon to follow. As soon as that music starts flowing it’s impossible to stay still. All the twirling, and jumping, twisting, and flipping, it was like Dancing with the Stars all the time. At a party like that, how could you not have a gay old time (see I already have the lingo down).

And don’t even get me started on the movies, or the "pictures" I should say. This was the time when talking movies were developed. Have you seen Singin' in the Rain, because that’s the time they’re talking about (if you have not seen Singin' in the Rain you are doing yourself a major disservice, go watch it right now). The Jazz Singer was a sensation and the movies only got better in the decades to follow. It Happened One Night, His Girl Friday, Casablanca, Gone With the Wind -- man, they don’t make movies like that anymore. And it wasn’t just the movies themselves, but the event of going to the movies was in itself incredible. It was nothing like going to the movies now where you plop down in your seat in your sweatpants and watch the latest sequel or remake because Hollywood has run out of ideas. No, when you went to the movies in the twenties it was a big deal; you got all dressed up and made a whole afternoon or evening of it. It was the day's entertainment. It was like Broadway, only better.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: this luxurious Gatsbyesque picture that I have presented of the twenties isn’t even close to reality. You’re shaking your head and thinking that this was the time of the depression, people were starving and homeless, there was racism and sexism and everyone was basically miserable. And I would say to you that while you are right about those things, this is my fantasy and I choose to see it my way, so I would kindly ask you and your realism to butt out. Sure I may have been born in the nineties (at least I have that), but I’ll always have that roaring twenties fantasy. The life I could have lived. Now all I need is a time machine, so does anyone have a Delorean I could borrow?