"Ashley says he likes a girl with a healthy appetite."

I looked up from my meal, still hot, to watch Vivien Leigh prance around the
set of the antebellum bedroom in the famous "Barbecue Dress".  No one could
swing a parasol and flounce petticoats in the 20th century like Viv.  I smiled
to myself as Mammy chastised the over-confident Scarlett, "I don' see Mistah
Ashley fixin' ta marry ya", and then the tossing of the parasol (look at the
arc!) and the planting of the hoop-skirted posterior on the steps.

As Scarlett crammed toast and some other "vittles" into her bow-perfect mouth,
I too started on my meal.  It was delicious, fresh, hot.  I savored the taste
on my tongue, rolling it on my discriminating palate, trying to place the
origins of the dish before me.  I finally gave up- too many choices, the
variety was overwhelmingly American.

"India Wilkes, what a lovely dress."

I choked on my meal at that moment, the bug-eyed actress who played Ashley's
sister pictured in my head, that ridiculous mustard dress doing nothing for
her appearance.  I looked up as Scarlett swept in the foyer of Twelve Oaks,
all queenly, the women and girls around her paling in comparison in their
demure-hued gowns.  The emerald in the dress just matched Viv's eyes, and for
a moment I was envious of her timeless beauty.

I laughed at the thought.  Her beauty was preserved on celluloid; not truly
timeless; not like mine...

My meal chose that moment to stir in my lap, and my attentions were once again
diverted.

I listened half-heartedly to the rest of the barbecue, Scarlett holding court
with as many young bachelors as she could.  Favoring Charles Hamilton over the
others, by allowing him to retrieve her dessert.  The catty commentary by the
single women.

Ah, finally, the scene between Ashley and Scarlett in the drawing room.  I
looked up.  It thrilled me to watch the passion with which that cherubic vase
was pitched across the room, shattering on the mantle, and then Rhett's
appearance from behind the sofa: "Has the war started already?"

I chuckled; if only the war had started with a thrown vase.  And thankfully,
the young men of that era were not as pathetic looking as Leslie Howard and
Clark Gable.  They were dashing and handsome, proud to wear the Blue or Gray,
always eager to share their exploits and heroic tales, always willing to
escort a lady home on a foggy night...

Damn.  I'd lost myself in memory again, and my meal had grown cold.  I had to
be more careful in my culinary ministrations.  I sighed, still hungry, and
stood.

I left him in the alley behind the apartment building, and went on to find my
next meal.  After all, the Ashleys of the world always liked girls with
healthy appetites.



**Quotes taken from "Gone With the Wind", MGM Studios, 1939, original story by
Margaret Mitchell

Stephica
stephica@bellsouth.net


The Sunburst Project, Week 5
http://www.chaoseed.com/btr/sbp/
4/13/00