Rachel was beautiful. Pale skin framed by dark hair in an unusual style. Red lipstick enhancing the expression of sadness on her full lips and the look of longing in her dark eyes. A look befitting a young woman unsure of her own past. The cigarette in her right hand highlighted the tragic nature of her existence. It was the perfect prop.
In the movies smoking did not cause lung cancer. Or bad breath. The ashtrays were never full of butts, they usually weren't there at all. Tossing a lit cigarette out the window or grinding it out on someone's fried egg was a statement. Smoke didn't get in your eye. When the heroine smoked it was part of her character development. If she was glamorous the long thin cigarette holder made her more so. Strong independent women lit their own cigarettes and bad girls spoke with a cigarette dangling from the side of the mouth. Prostitutes smoked during sex. It was a fantasy world. The leading lady didn't cough for fifteen minutes in the morning.
The bullets were all blanks, the blood was really corn syrup. The castle was a mere facade and the Emerald City was a sound set. Actresses had unhappy childhoods and bad marriages. Their designer gowns and expensive jewelry were on loan from the studio in order to promote the latest release. Little girls wanted to grow up and be "just like her".
It is sad, you see them all around town, young attractive women with nice clothes, stylish hairdos, long red nails, lots of make-up and the ever present cigarette. Between the fingers or lips. A half full pack on the table in front of her or protruding from the purse. Often times a lady seems really sexy until she reaches for that fag. Then all the hard work she has done to perfect her appearance, to get the "look", is wasted.
Hollywood lied.
OWL
August 19, 2007
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