The Bright Young Things were on my mind. In the aftermath of World War I, the children of the crumbling aristocracy, disillusioned and lost…decided to party. And party they did with style and art and lots and lots of costumes.
We made a date, in Balboa Park. I made a cheeseboard. And for a night we time travelled with our rags and our hair and our lipstick and a boombox singing old croonies and for dessert we marched to the pavilion where Buster Keaton and Laurel and Hardy Halloween movies played on the big screen.
We laughed and danced and laughed some more. We were bright young things.
