Sunday in New York (1963)

I was going to make this post a review of the movie Sunday in New York. However, after reading a friend's post about doppelgangers, I realized that I didn't want to write a review. What I really want to do is express what this kind of movie meant to me as a kid.

As impossible as it seems, my teenage self back in the 1980s thought that I would grow up to live the kind of life I saw in early-1960s movies like this one. I wanted to live in a world where the streets were filled with men wearing suits and hats and women wearing perfectly fitted dresses. In my dreams, I would live in a chic studio apartment and have friends over for cocktails and witty conversation. Almost every night I would be going out to dinner or attending a show.

Part of me still wants that life, but my current life has the possibility of living up to another fantasy. The gardening, earth mother, bake-my-own bread fantasy. I got the kids and the garden. Just bring on the flowing skirts and the yeast!