You’re just sad, that’s all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you’re afraid, and you don’t know what you’re afraid of – Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffany’s
My eyes slowly awaken to the sound of my alarm clock ringing. My first thought is, please tell me that I’ve set my alarm early and I have extra time. Peeling back the covers and throwing my body to the cold air, I quickly feel the sinking feeling of fear.
Fear that I’m not content; fear that I’m not sure of everything that I thought I knew. It’s like my dreams are now setting and I’m not sure if they will make it to sunrise.
People say to me, why do you love Breakfast at Tiffany’s so much? Most answers relate to Audrey Hepburn; her style and mannerisms of playing the ‘kooky girl’ afraid of love. And as much as I adore her and fall head over heels at her entire look, my real love is for Capote’s writing.
Holly was not just a call girl, a New Yorker wannabe or party enthusiast, she was a girl scared of herself. She couldn’t quite work out what she wanted, and so she continually travelled, lived as though her life was never permanent.
Desperately hoping to make sense or to camouflage her worries with material possessions. And I feel that we all get to that stage in life.
You have great ambition, until you suddenly ask yourself – what am I doing? What is contentment?
Golightly was aimless in the idea that she wanted a place to find love and call home, but had no clue how to get there. It’s like she chased herself in circles.
In the movie, she finds her equilibrium and let’s go of ‘her cage’; ending credits in the rain and making out with a no-name cat in the middle. But in the book, the reality is stronger; she doesn’t fall along to the Hollywood notion of happiness.
I highly recommend that you watch and read Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It’s one of the only scripts where you will love both for entirely different reasons. You won’t even be able to compare, simply appreciate reading and watching, in equal measure.
Despite my strength and consistency in wanting to bring positivity and passion to my work and beliefs, I’m not immune to the ‘mean reds’. Sometimes I go about my day and it occurs that I’m happy in myself, but not really satisfied in life.
If I could find a real-life place that’d make me feel like Tiffany’s, then – then I’d buy some furniture and give the cat a name – Holly Golightly
I feel as though I’m Holly Golightly. At times a complete paradox. I’m two things in one; self-assured and self-lost, occasionally that makes me think that I’m a fake; some sort of con-artist playing a role and reciting another. Maybe that’s how Marilyn felt.
The truth is, you can achieve the most successful career, walk down 5th Avenue with Givenchy and a bagel, love yourself entirely, and yet still inhale clouds of lost smoke. We’re desperate to have it all; show it all.
We want adventure, love, life at the optimum, sex – sex appeal, glamour, strength… And when I go through my bout of mean reds, my voice goes a little quieter.
I’m not analysing how to surge through my world at perfection, or even how to grow my blog and social-media. There’s just one consideration circling.
What makes me happy? I can’t 100% answer that, other than to say writing – pure selfish happiness. On the other hand, I know what makes me not.
It’s a mistake you always make, trying to love a wild thing – Holly Golightly
Over-worrying, checking my weight, scrutinising my skin. Complaining that I don’t have enough hours to play catch up or ram through my to-do list. Perhaps I do half of those things to secretly keep myself busy and hopefully past by my reds.
If you take away all the noise in your surroundings and recognise – write a table, what’s useful and important, what’s not useful and important, what’s not useful and not important? How many go on which side?
If there’s a final inclination to my love of Holly Golightly, it’s that, yes, she was a call girl, she took men’s money and technically was not on an independent trip; in the book her character put her own needs first. Certainly not perfect. However, she’s literature’s greatest.
She’s a complete masterpiece, and when you take away all the hard layers and sharp edges, she’s a hopeless, lost, romantic girl. You don’t need to act ideal to be ideal, you don’t need to have it all figured out.
Sometimes the best characters are the ones who have an accolade of personas, remind yourself of that when you feel the mean reds.
How do you feel with the mean red’s? Do you ever feel lost and unable to explain why?
If you loved this, read: Marilyn and Audrey: What They Say About Women Today