Do you belong in this day and age? Do you feel comfortable being a citizen of the 21st-century? If you do, explain why — and if you don’t, when in human history would you rather be?
I absolutely, well and truly, undeniably, do not belong in this time.
My beloved Aunty Joan once told me that I was born eighty years old. You would have to know how my family works and how I work to get that that wasn’t an insult (alright, it wasn’t totally an insult). If you knew me, you’d probably also get what she meant. I am, at least on some level, an emotional Benjamin Button.
Let’s do the maths on that one. I was born in 1989, after what my mother will assure you was the longest, most stop-start labour in the history of humankind. If I was eighty in 1989, then I was born in 1909, and supposing that a woman is at her cultural, social and fashionable prime in her twenties to forties, then I was born to peak in the 1920s to 1940s and I think that is absolutely right. Because I would die of happiness if I got to look like this every day (I do own a hat like the one in this picture which is not mine).
Unfortunately, that would have meant I would have had to live through the two World Wars and the Great Depression, and I am much too prissy to ration my stockings or my bacon. I’d also be dead by now, well, probably. Especially since, as mentioned above, I would have died of happiness every time I opened my wardrobe.
So my next preference is to have been born in the 1960s, so that I could have fully enjoyed the music and fashion of the 1980s. Look, 80s culture; it’s a love-it-or-hate-it kinda thing and I love it. I’m not ashamed. This is a photo of me when I was twenty, all dressed up for an 80s-themed costume party (which were all the rage in the late noughties, apparently):
I still own that jumper. I wore it yesterday. And the day before that.
I think having been born in the 1960s would have suited some of the attitudes I have now. It would definitely match some of my behaviour. For example, like a fifty-something year-old, I often fall asleep in the middle of a television show, walk into a room and promptly forget what I went in there for, or go on a frantic search for an object that is in my hand. I also find myself bemoaning the attitudes and sometimes even the music and fashions of the rest of my generation, and I have caught myself saying things such as “when I was younger…” or “I remember when you were a baby! I changed your nappies!” (the perks of being a babysitter).
Also, these photos would never have happened:
So basically anything other than that would have been better, right?
And if you’re not convinced about how gorgeous I would have looked in the threads of the early twentieth century, or you haven’t seen enough of my embarrassing childhood photos, here is one of me (centre) acting in a play, when I was about seven: