Archive for Saturday Night

Saturday Night. Another World

Posted in Bird of Time, conservative, Constitution, Culture, Humor, Opinion, Philosophy, Politics, The Arts, wordpress with tags , , , , on May 21, 2014 by bird of time

A lady never tells her age. It just sneaks out when she isn’t looking:  her manners (or lack of them), the smile that a word might bring, even the swear word she might use when she is totally annoyed. I have no doubt that by the time this bit of whimsy is finished you can tell the month, the date and the year I was born.

Well,  almost.

Someone mentioned a poem they had written about a Saturday night.

Saturday night. Another world.

In this real world, well, the Old Grey Mare, she ain’t what she used to be. Saturday night now means ho, hum. There is nothing on television until Fox’s Bulls and Bears at eleven. Don’t know where the Brit Mysteries went, but since that station only has eight months of programs (four of appeals), there is no point in looking for them. Perhaps this is one of those gifts that keeps on giving.

Saturday Nights. How I loved them. As a kid, it meant a movie. And later, a movie with that good night kiss you sang to yourself about all week

i lived in Toledo, Ohio in my sort of single days. You know, that town that everyone makes fun of. Actually it wasn’t bad then. It has one of the world’s best art museums and the theaters still had wine velvet drapes with gold thread, small restaurants in a downtown that stayed open for the movie crowd, street cars that ran only on the hour after twelve and I think stopped totally at two. Several of the nicer restaurants had a dance floor and one of the stone quarries offered dancing under the stars. I’ll take that.

Saturday actually started on Friday nights. Hair, nails, iron our special dresses and shine the shoes – an evening routine that was the equal to any “I have to wash my hair” excuse.

Then the dressing up for Saturday deal. White gloves. Highest heels we had. The latest in hats (or not). Then downtown on the bus for lunch – for which my future sister-in-law, friend was always half an hour late. Our favorite lunch place was  the restaurant in our favorite store. Later I’d take my kids there for their birthday lunch.

At Christmas time the stores filled their windows with manger scenes and angels that left you gasping. My store had the best Santa in town.

My sister-in-law was a tiny thing and there were always great bargains on the racks for her. So we’d head for the dress sale racks. There was always a clerk to greet you and actually wait on you. She’d check your dressing room to see if everything was alright, see if she could find something for you, or get a different size. For a long time, she got a commission but that disappeared about the time the clerks disappeared.

After that we’d go to a smaller but pricier place to drool over their hats.  If only I had those lovely things today. big black and huge straw, sparkling white Scarlet O’Hara hats, little straws that actually did have cherries or tiny flowers and ribbons on them, a black Ingrid Bergman hat from Casablanca, a stacked straw, a glorious pink hat with big pink roses, a white fur that the Czars’ wife might have worn. Oh my.

If I could have some reminder of those days, I’d take the hats, plus maybe one wine velvet dress, one lavender cotton with big embroidered lilacs, and one pair of gold sandals.

it was like a gigantic treasure box. No bare shopping malls. Just “Downtown” where all the good things were. I wonder if New York City is still like it was when I visited th city with Macy’s and Sacs, a .small downtown  A mall just is not the same. No romance. No big deal.

The stores then had a book and a candy department, and a yard goods department. Big bolts of heavy Skinner satin and lovely soft Pendleton wools. Huge books of patterns for beautiful dresses and fuzzy pajamas. They had one of the prettiest leopard print furs I’ve ever seen. I don’t like most they look so artificial, but this was soft (fake furry) and beautiful.  I made a coat I loved for years. It was my signature coat.

I had my first two charge cards there, down town. My behavior was never so good again as it as with them!

And that was just the afternoon.

I don’t know what Saturday night is these days. Just another day to go out?

It really was the highlight of the week. If you were lucky, your date was a good dancer. If not it was movie night. The theaters were always packed. We didn’t usually bother with the first couple of weeks of a block buster, but settled for a good one in one of the smaller theaters. And yes, there were balconies and snuggling, but those weren’t our choice of seats if we could help it.

Then waffles and coffee in one of the small restaurants that catered to the movie crowd.

I look at the block malls and the tiny bare theaters and I’m glad I’m not a kid now. I guess maybe the screen  elements are worth the excitement of going to the movies, but I can’t think of trading that for the wonderful voice of Ronald Colman, or that lovely, deep French voice of Charles Boyer murmuring in your ear.

Those were the best of times, the worst of times. The worst only because they are gone forever Another world.