Would you like a Brownie with your Gimlet, dear?

This weekend I went to a "1950's Hot Housewives Party." When I first got the invitation, I thought, "What? Random." But as I got closer to Saturday, I became increasingly tickled with the idea. I've always thought I would have made more sense in a different era, and the 50's were just so girly... And polite... And, you know, twirly-skirted. When I was in high-school I played "Madge" from the play Picnic, which meant I got to wear the prettiest dresses imaginable that were made just for me, and wear fake eyelashes, and curled hair and all the rest. I haven't acted in forever, and slipping into those different characters is something I miss every once in a while... So getting to dress up like Doris Day began sounding like just the best idea ever...

To manage it then: what to start with? Last year, I bought myself a full length apron from Anthropologie, just because I liked the idea of wearing a cute apron once in a while. Not necessarily to cook in. Just to wear around town. But what! 50's Housewife party?? "Oh fabulous dear, I have an apron I've just been DYING to break out..."

What next? An A-length skirt? Khaki/linen, pleated, check.

Vintage shoes? Ooo YES vintage shoes. Brown with a button. Check.

What on the legs? Nice 50's ladies did not go bare legged, methinks. What stockings do I have? Red? I have red stockings! Red stockings, check.

Do I have a blouse? I have a blouse.

And vintage jade earrings, and a rose in my hair, and of course, red lips were absolutely necessary. I watched a video on youtube to figure out how to do my hair and indulged in pin curls. By the time I was ready to go I felt so deliciously from the olden-times.


I realized that, in putting myself in a freshly ironed apron however, my feminist leanings were making a massive effort to compensate. During dinner with Grandpa before I left, I started getting all kinds of defensive. "Grandpa...! Grandma was a 50's housewife wasn't she??"
"Well... yes, we were married by then."
"Did she, like, have dinner on the table every night?!"
"Yes, I think she made the dinners. She volunteered a lot too of course, with the Junior League."
"Well. So she, like, had to VACUUM and things."
The truth is, my Grandma came from high-society, and Farm Boy Grandpa had to teach her how to set the table after they were first married. If anyone did the chores around the house, it would have been him, but I couldn't help picking a fight. I felt too compromised. On the phone with a friend: "Yes, so what if I ironed my apron?? So what if I made brownies?? The apron was wrinkled! I'm supposed to bring a dessert! Just because I know how to do domestic things doesn't mean I can't fly a spaceship!!"

Maybe I was over-reacting, but seriously? Those 50's ladies did have quite the domestic expectations. Click on the link. It's ridiculous.

But the actual party was hilarious. We all showed up with either a cocktail or a dessert, and proceeded to make all kinds of jokes about the husbands working late, or the impropriety of sitting with your legs crossed at the knee (ANKLES ladies, it's ANKLES you cross), and we ate mini-gherkins, and drank gimlets, and the non-aproned ladies sneered at us aproned and made comments about our lack of hired help. The only all-girl parties I've been to lately have been bridal showers or bachelorette parties, and it was just such a refreshing change to be hanging out with girls without needing to comment a.) What a cute gift that is!!, or b.) Oh my gosh, that penis necklace is such an original idea!!


After the party wound down, four of us decided it could be silly to go out in our aprons, and silliness is just always something worth embracing in my opinion. I had gotten a call from my friend, inviting me to a free concert at a swanky jazz venue, so the four of us drove down-town and traipsed into this upscale club, oven mitts brandished. "What kind of reception do you think we're going to get?"
"Oh they'll probably think we're just funny."
"No but the boys... What kind of man is going to be attracted to this get-up?"
"Oh dear. Good point. Um, guys with domestic vacuum fantasies? Ew."
"That's what I'm saying!"

Whether for chauvinist reasons or not, we were warmly received with a mix of amusement, attraction, and confusion. An "anonymous" benefactor promptly bought us all a round, and we received several hilarious inquiries.
"Wow. Are you like, good at domestic chores then?"
"WHY? I just have to ask WHY? Is this some sort of bachelorette party...? Are you... Jackie Gleason's grand-daughter and feel compelled to pay homage?"
"You're so cute. Did you make that apron?"

When I danced to the afro-cuban music-- cause it makes so much sense to dance to afro-cuban hip-hop in red stockings and an apron-- I mimed sweeping, and vacuuming, and stirring cake batter, and jouncing babies. I do enjoy being ridiculous.

It was such a great evening. And the three girls I went out with are brand new friends-- I'd never really known them before the party, but we had such a good time together, I mean what better way to bond than going out in down-town Seattle as 50's housewives?

My pin-curls and lipstick hung on until the bitter end (thank you hairspray and Revlon Colorstay Lipcolor), and when I finally tumbled into bed, I kept up the glamour by sleeping in my prettiest Anthro nightie. "Goodnight darling, I'm ever so tired. It was such a nifty time with the other girls..."

However: I WILL SAY: it was relief to wake up in 2008 where wearing natural hair and makeup is standard, and where it's just as acceptable for a woman to fly a spaceship as it is for her to make a casserole!