When I Grow Up....To Be A Flapper

       The location of a digit in a number can make all the difference in the world.  For instance, we are currently in the year 2012, but, however, I would much rather be living in the decade of the 1920s.  The fashion, the music, the lifestyle, it all intrigues me, not to mention my long-life aspiration of meeting, probably becoming best friends, and sing and dance in a movie with Bing Crosby.  It was an innovative time, filled with dreams of freedom and prosperity, and much done to attain these dreams. The same ol' same ol' was whisked away, especially for women.  Due to ready made clothing and canned foods, females were ready to leave the house, to explore, to experience.  The flapper idea is a particular one that delights me. The bravery to cut hair and almost, possibly occasionally, show knee, along with the dynamite attitude and lipstick to match, the young and restless were prepared to live on the edge, and most importantly, dance.   Jazz! This special genre, unlike any other, than can create feelings unlike any other to this day, was created, cultivated, and made magic happen during the Roaring 20s.  Party, party, party was the to-do marking this period, and the more extravagant and expensive, the better.  Passion outweighed caution.  Nightlife outweighed sleep. Excitement outweighed peace. Happiness, long or short lasting, outweighed guilt.  Not even the sky was the limit, and any day could be the last.  Such "living-each-moment-to-the-fullest" I admire, even if the lifestyle was not the most commendable.  I may or may not dream of wearing adorable and daring fringed dresses, with short, fiery hair-do, crimson cheeks and lips, dancing the evening away to the jazz orchestra!.... Okay, okay, I am caught; I do.  I may do it often... Okay, I do it very often.   'Tis not very realistic, impossible, actually, so I suppose the books, music, movies, and my imagination'll have to do for my Roaring 20s fix.