Monday, June 15, 2009

Idea 56 - The Gilded Parasol

I feel like I've been skewing a little male of late, and I should probably balance it out with some lady-stuff. I'm thinking of sort of a Merchant Ivory vibe here, like a very soft and supple literary tale of quiet discovery and unspoken yearnings. Maybe somebody comes of age abroad. Also, great outfits. Like so:

Rebecca emerged from the theatre as if from a dream featuring actors. It wasn't as though an aspect of the play had quietly pummeled something within her as if it were a piano's softened hammer -- no, instead she felt as if each word of dialogue was such a hammer, and each element of her essence had been thusly struck. It was eerie.

"You've been quiet since you arrived in late 1940's French Papua New Guinea." Monsieur Ormond projected the air of a professor who was displeased with his student, even though he was not that. His gaze scanned the filthy street for unhired rickshaws, deigning not to look at her as he spoke. His shirtcuffs were as ruffled as her silken parasol, but they somehow spoke of an ocean of manly experience.

In her mind, she thought "I am coming of age."

I can't help but see Helena Bonham Carter in the movie adaptation. Wait, she's too old.

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