Let's bring back...
As promised, today begins my first installment of the ‘Let’s Bring Back’ series in my tumblr inspired by the book of the same name (but a bit longer) by Lesley M.M. Blume.
Alright, so let’s bring back:
“Acquaintance”- Today the word “friend” is used rather carelessly; it should be reserved for the most hallowed of relationships. One rarely hears the word “acquaintance” anymore—a polite, cunning catchall term that strikes the perfect balance between affiliation and distance.
I try to use this word all of the time, but people seem to take it with a rude connotation, as if I’m calling them an acquaintance instead of a friend because I don’t like them. No, that’s not what it means. I’m simply trying to use the word ‘friend’ in its proper usage, reserving it for people that are legitimately very close to me, not just someone that I’ve met once at a party.
Continuing my “Let’s Bring Back” series, let’s bring back…
“Ambrosia”: In ancient Greek mythology, ambrosia was a food or drink of the gods that would give its human consumer ageless immortality. (Hey, this kind of fits after my ‘Aging Naturally’ post the other day…how about we all just eat a ton of ambrosia?)
Anyway, thousands of years later, the gods saw fit to bestow an earthly version of this offering on the inhabitants of the American South, who served this fruit dish as a transition between the main course and dessert. Apparently, if the cook does not include the coconut, it’s not “real” ambrosia.
An 1877 recipe from Buckeye Cookery, and Practical Housekeeping, by a Mrs. Estelle Woods Wilcox:
Six sweet oranges, peeled and sliced (seeds and as much of the core as possible taken out), one pine-apple peeled and sliced (the canned is equally good), and one large cocoa-nut grated; alternate the layers of orange and pine-apple with grated cocoa-nut, and sprinkle pulverized sugar over each layer. Or, use six oranges, six lemons and two cocoa-nuts, or only oranges and cocoa-nuts, prepared as above.
First of all, I love this entry specifically because, at least in my hometown, there’s no need to bring this stuff back- it never left. I’ve been eating someone’s form of ambrosia as long as I can remember.
And Ms. Blume is perfectly correct when she says that if there isn’t coconut, it isn’t real.
Kudos to the American South; oh how I love thee.
“Vreeland’s sudden surge in popularity should, in theory, make me happy: after all, I’ve long wished for a society that once again tolerates Vreeland’s particular brand of eccentricity. What right do I have to hoard her?”—Lesley M.M. Blume, “On Sharing an Idol”
Let's definitely bring back...
Aging Naturally- Women have likely had some version of nip-and-tuck since the beginning of time, but the results of some of today’s “artistry” performed on women of advanced years can be ghoulish. Comedienne Joan Rivers’s face, for example, is now stretched tighter than a piano string. […] I also challenge you to read the social pages of the Palm Beach Post without shrieking. Nose jobs often age badly; Botox is usually patently obvious (as is shoe-polish-black hair on an eighty year old woman). I recently heard about a woman whose botched eye job won’t let her close her eyes entirely.
One individual who symbolizes the merits of natural aging (or at least natural-looking aging) is Carmen Dell’Orefice. Now in her eighties, with a shock of perfectly groomed silver hair and cut-glass cheekbones, she is often referred to as “the world’s oldest working model.”
Still a catwalker for some of the world’s greatest designers, including John Galliano and Jean Paul Gaultier, Dell’Orefice is definitely what Holly Golightly, the ultimate glamour girl, had in mind when she said: “Wrinkles and bones, white hair and diamonds: I can’t wait.”
Well said, Lesley. Some of the most beautiful and classy women that I have ever met have been older women, women who are proud of their age and realize that in most ways- they are far superior to younger women both in mind and body. I’m not saying that I can’t wait to be old, but I think that aging has its benefits which are often thrown under the rug in favor of whining about wrinkles.