Bloom Billie

Good afternoon, Dear Reader!

I went to the post office earlier, and was happy to find a package that I've been expecting waiting for me. It's one I'd hoped to have last Friday (I'll get into that later...), but I have it now! A friend from Australia helped me get my hands on some Bloom nail polishes, and they are spectacular!

I dug into Billie first, and I'll tell you why that was first and why I wanted it for last Friday after the pics in case you don't especially care. It's a great slightly red purple shimmer which required three coats (as most do for me) to be opaque, and I love it. It's glowy! It applied beautifully, and the only down side is that I noted that the bottle is 12 ml (0.4 oz) rather than the usual 15 ml (0.5 oz).

So here are pics, and I'll tell you about the meaning of it after.

So why's this super-duper special? It's a combination of things...

I've shown you "Lucy in the Sky" colors for my mom and mentioned my dad singing that song when I was a kid... Well, that was the only time she was called Lucy, was that specific reference. Otherwise, it was Billie. She used to say that only doctors and the IRS called her Lucille, and she'd make a really silly face when doctors did it. She got "Billie" for a song that was popular on the radio when she was born (way pre-TV), called Billie Boom-Boom. Her dad would bounce her on his knee and sing Billie Boom-Boom, and the name stuck. So that's Part I.

Part II is that it's purple, which makes it perfect. My mom was a hard-working professional woman, always number one in male-dominated fields, and when she was around fifty-ish, came across the poem "Warning: When I Am An Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple," by Jenny Joseph. She'd read it to anyone who would listen, letting out a hearty, from-the-toes laugh every time, and had an artist/calligrapher render a version that's still in my dad's house today. Here's the poem (skip it if you want!).

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple

With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.

And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves

And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.

I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired

And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells

And run my stick along the public railings

And make up for the sobriety of my youth.

I shall go out in my slippers in the rain

And pick the flowers in other people's gardens

And learn to spit

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat

And eat three pounds of sausages at a go

Or only bread and pickle for a week

And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry

And pay our rent and not swear in the street

And set a good example for the children.

We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?

So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised

When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

--Jenny Joseph

At the time, she was of the mind that purple was a color only for someone she didn't get along with so well. This poem changed that, and as she got older, she'd wear purple more, and always quote this poem, threatening to eat three pounds of sausages in a sitting and things like that. It was funny as heck. It was more than a joke to my mom, though. If she felt like wearing pajamas all day, which would drive my dad nuts, she'd simply answer him, "I'm comfy." This poem gave her the perception that age entitled her to whatever she felt like that harmed no one else, regardless of what anyone thought, and she lived it.

So that's why I was hoping to have a purple called Billie for last Friday, my mom's birthday. She'd love having a purple with her name. I've also never showed her to you, I don't think, so I will. This is the picture from her obituary, which was taken when she was 75. Flaming red hair and bold lipstick. That's Billie! Unfortunately, we get her picture smile here rather than a real one, but I can show you a real smile on another birthday.

I look exactly like her, so that's me in 40 years, too!

So that's the polish and the story for this afternoon, Dear Reader. To those of you who skipped it, thanks for being patient with me, and to those of you who read it, thanks for walking through this with me. Until tomorrow, love and nail polish to you!