Jitterbug Perfume

Once more, I went time traveling in my dreams. Like last time, it was the 1940s. I seem to have a thing for that decade. Possibly just its popular music. Honestly, who wouldn’t be in love with the Andrews Sisters?

Hello, Rhumboogie!

Nice ta see ya Rum and Coca Cola!

Lovin’ ya Bei Mir Bist Du Schön!

And suh-weet, hip-city double entendre there, ladies!

Back in art school days Kevin and I pulled a lot of all nighters to get all our projects done. We also did them because it gave us the painting solitude we needed. We could blast Talking Heads as loud as we wanted and when The Andrews Sisters were spinning, we could (and did) break out into spontaneous jitterbugs.

I wasn’t boogie woogying in last night’s dream. Nope, Hillel and I were taking a long-ass, enjoyable stroll up Comm. Ave. Commonwealth Avenue begins all posh-city down at the Public Garden. It doesn't get all ratty until, a few miles up, when you get to the BU and BC student ghettos – the Allston/Brighton neighborhoods. I lived there for too many years until The Amazing Bob and I escaped to Cambridge.

Ratty as it was, I could tell that, before being subjected to decades of abuse, neglect and overpainting, these were buildings with good bones and nice touches. I lived in one run down, beat to shit place that had gorgeous French doors separating the kitchen/dining area from the one and only other room.

See, this was once a street of elegant apartment buildings. I guess, subconsciously, I’ve always wanted to see the area before it got trashed.

So, last night Hillel and I were having ourselves an epic walk up Comm. Ave. of the 1940s. We were checking out the refined architecture and lively street-life. There were couples jitterbugging  on the sidewalk. House (apartment) parties had spilled into the street. AND, all of a sudden, I was wearing a stunning crimson, mega full, pleated skirt – perfect for kickin’ out the jams to a little Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy.