Fifi D'Orsay (1904-1983)
was born Marie-Rose Angelina Yvonne Lussier in Montreal in 1904 but she had a dream of being an actress so she moved to New York, changed her name, embroidered upon her past and ended up with a career in vaudeville and later in Hollywood too.
Outside Fifi and Romeo's, on Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles, a store that sells luxury items for small dogs, 12/12/2008.
There are times you don't even know what to make of it. You're seeing a story, but what kind of story? What kind of sense does it make? Does it make any sense? You're seeing a bunch of Japanese girls taking pictures of each other posing with a handsome long-haired black man in a store swagged and trimmed in pink and pale ice blue, with poodles and a giant crystal chandelier and you have no idea why you're looking at what your'e looking at. You're thinking, "Bank of America's layoffs are expected to be in the thousands of workers, the American auto industry is about to go under, there's another few million foreclosures due in 2010 when those pesky "pay option" mortgages come due, and this store sells what exactly?"
And no, please, don't try and explain it to me. At the moment I take this picture, a group of girls in dowdy modest dark-skirt-and-sweater-and-dark-kneesocks-and-white-blouse uniforms are leaving their orthodox Hebrew school on their way home and right behind me, and you can't even imagine what they're thinking but it's something along the lines of, "the goyim are insane."
I don't understand a lot of what I see these days. On my way to work, a homeless guy outside St. James Church on Wilshire starts barking obscenities. He scares the old Korean lady who hurries by and then he stops abruptly with a stony frozen angry look on his face and stares at me. Then he barks again. I wonder if the barking helps relieve whatever is building up inside him, whether it is an effective way of venting his rage and confusion and despair. I hope so.
Some days practically everything seems inexplicable and strange. Tomorrow I'm driving to Palm Springs. As you know, Jesus met the Devil in the desert and was tempted. I am not driving to the desert to meet the Devil, although I think I dated him once.
Sometimes I'm tempted to change my name and start over. Like Fifi D'Orsay. But who is Romeo?
Outside Fifi and Romeo's, on Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles, a store that sells luxury items for small dogs, 12/12/2008.
There are times you don't even know what to make of it. You're seeing a story, but what kind of story? What kind of sense does it make? Does it make any sense? You're seeing a bunch of Japanese girls taking pictures of each other posing with a handsome long-haired black man in a store swagged and trimmed in pink and pale ice blue, with poodles and a giant crystal chandelier and you have no idea why you're looking at what your'e looking at. You're thinking, "Bank of America's layoffs are expected to be in the thousands of workers, the American auto industry is about to go under, there's another few million foreclosures due in 2010 when those pesky "pay option" mortgages come due, and this store sells what exactly?"
And no, please, don't try and explain it to me. At the moment I take this picture, a group of girls in dowdy modest dark-skirt-and-sweater-and-dark-kneesocks-and-white-blouse uniforms are leaving their orthodox Hebrew school on their way home and right behind me, and you can't even imagine what they're thinking but it's something along the lines of, "the goyim are insane."
I don't understand a lot of what I see these days. On my way to work, a homeless guy outside St. James Church on Wilshire starts barking obscenities. He scares the old Korean lady who hurries by and then he stops abruptly with a stony frozen angry look on his face and stares at me. Then he barks again. I wonder if the barking helps relieve whatever is building up inside him, whether it is an effective way of venting his rage and confusion and despair. I hope so.
Some days practically everything seems inexplicable and strange. Tomorrow I'm driving to Palm Springs. As you know, Jesus met the Devil in the desert and was tempted. I am not driving to the desert to meet the Devil, although I think I dated him once.
Sometimes I'm tempted to change my name and start over. Like Fifi D'Orsay. But who is Romeo?
i dated him too!!!! alot.
as i said, i know the woman who opened that store... ask me.
be safe, i love you.
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Please tell about the woman who opened it? And who did u date...Romeo? LOL
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