Lessons In Being A Flapper Read Free Page A

had never seen such beauty in my life. The stained glass windows and hand carved griffins on the fireplace mantel were authentic pieces of Victorian history, while the enormous and brightly colored dining room and the warm and comforting sitting room gave the home a modern flair. To top it off, the house was so centrally located that you could walk into the city but still have grass and trees and a beautiful view of the sky that isn’t blocked by metallic skyscrapers.  It was, in one word, Bliss. 
    “So Autumn, tell me, why did you decide to take me up on my offer to learn about the twenties? I could have been anyone you know and in this day and age you should be more careful. Especially wearing that dress,” Marisol said, both questioning me and admonishing me for showing up on her doorstep with my handicapped dog while dressed like a frizzy-haired Flapper. What a sight I must have been to her neighbors!                                                                                                                                                                   “I’m sorry, Marisol. I don’t know what came over me. When I got your letter, I was shocked by just how much you knew about me. It was as if you had reached into my head and taken hold of my dreams and fantasies,” I explained as she muttered “I figured as much” under her breath.                                       
    “Now that I’m here though, I do want to know how you know me. I don’t recall ever seeing you in my life…”                                                                                                                                                                       
      “No, you wouldn’t have seen me. I think it’s safe to say we tend to play in different social circles, but I know you because I received a message from someone close to you who wants nothing more than for you to be happy. He said that you’re not happy and the only time you come alive is when you think about the twenties. You’re a true ‘vintage queen’, he said. At least that’s what I think he said. My memory isn’t as good as it used to be so please forgive me, dear.”                                                             
    “He? Who is he?” I inquired. I haven’t had a man in my life in years and especially not one who would know my love for all things vintage so intimately.                                                                                            
    “My darling, Autumn, it’s not really necessary that you get all the details right now. What’s important is that you’re here so let’s stay in the present,” Marisol quipped.                                                                   
    “No, I can’t just sit here and wonder who you know, Marisol! I mean, yes, I’m here and I’m grateful for you being so welcoming, but I can’t for the life of me imagine who you’d hav e spoken to that knows me so –“