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| Maypole Dance, California, 1900s |
The boys and I walked with Sophie up to our nearby Yogurtland. While standing in line, balancing Sophie and enduring the stares, I overheard two little girls talking to each other. No more than three or four years old, they had just gotten out of a nearby dance studio and were dressed in tutus and tights. The dark-haired girl had a frilly red gauze skirt that looked like a cross between Black Swan and Carmen Miranda. The blonde was dressed in a traditional pink ballet tutu. The mother of the blonde was your typical harried Los Angeles mother -- I conjectured that this was her only child, and her nanny hadn't shown up that day at work. The dark-haired girl was squired by a very handsome metro-sexual who looked faintly European. I conjectured that he was a screenwriter from Brazil, married to a studio executive.
Dark-haired girl: Hi! Did you just get out of dance class?
Blonde girl: Yes! Hip-hop?
Dark-haired girl: Yes, hip-hop! What's your name?
Blonde: Gemma. What's your name?
Dark-haired girl: Amaranth
Take this exchange wherever you want.
My next child shall be named Barley, or Flax...Amaranth!?
ReplyDeleteGreat conjectures. I can see the whole thing. Once I was that harried mother whose nanny hadn't shown up to work that day. HAHAHA! How things change.
ReplyDeleteAlso, my nanny hasn't showed up for like seven years! Where the hell is she??!? ;)
ReplyDeleteMaybe she's got a sister--Quinoa!
ReplyDeleteAnd a punky little brother named Grits?
Ha! This is great! I, too, was going to suggest Quinoa but GRITS? Oh Lord yes.
ReplyDeleteCalifornia really is different. And I sort of (kinda really) love that.
Thank god they changed the name "rapeseed" to "canola". I mean, think of the consequences had that not happened...
ReplyDeleteI like to think they were just quoting Tori Amos lyrics. "Datura. . . Ming Fern. . . Sword Fern. . . Dianella." At least you're not in the deep south and meeting little Confederate Jasmine?
ReplyDeleteReminds me of when I was pregnant with our first child. As I stood in line at the grocery store in La Jolla (not L.A.), I kept looking at the adorable little toddler in front of me. His blonde curls spilled around his cherub face. We still had lots of names in the running and, just as I was wondering what this sweet child's name was, he reached out for a candy bar that was close at hand. "Put that back Zeus" scolded his mother. Ah, California I thought and did not add that name to our list!!
ReplyDeleteBest,
Bonnie
Love this...it's so far-removed from our life in a town populated by Norwegian immigrants (and now, their descendants).
ReplyDeleteThe closest I have ever had to a nanny was a chocolate lab with a good disposition.
ReplyDeleteAmaranth - Well, I guess at one day someone thought Blanche was a good name.
Lola and I walked the dog through a pioneer cemetery yesterday (yes, that was how we celebrated our first day of Spring Break) and loved seeing all of the old names like Blanche and Olaf and imagining their lives - especially when we came across gravestones for babies that had died within days of birth next to their mothers' gravestones.
ReplyDeleteI love the easy way little girls can converse with each other. Thanks for sharing!
I was wondering just yesterday where all the Mary and Carol and Debbies have gone
ReplyDelete