God, I wish I was Myrna Loy. Or at least, I wish I looked just like her. I know she had some kind of tragic past/upbringing, but who cares? She’s beautiful—her perfect 1930’s charm is still mesmerizing today. Her shy, yet coquettish glance could make any man swoon, even in today’s hyped up, sex-driven media world. Somehow, I think that if I can master the Myrna Loy look, not just look, but expression, I could somehow be attractive in that film noir/femme fatale way. I know everyone obsesses about Audrey Hepburn when they pick a “classic” actress to immortilize. Don’t get me wrong—Hepburn is an amazing actress, almost as great as Katharine, but I want to be Myrna Loy. It’s not that I find William Powell particularly attractive either, but boy did he luck out in starring opposite Loy so many times. They had chemistry; pure, raw chemistry, especially as Nick and Nora Charles. If only I could have a husband like Nick Charles! But he’s just a character, and Myrna Loy is just an actress. But God, I still wish I possessed some of her cat-like grace.
I know that it’s silly, but I still wish and hope and pray to be different. Different from myself, different from my faults and fears and failures. Different from the ramblings and mental prisons that I have so skillfully built around me. (I realize that those past two lists aren’t actually sentences) Maybe this is more a mental thing; what I actually want is a day to be someone else entirely; to live another life and to have another set of memories. Most people think they are envious of my memories. I’ve traveled halfway across the world and back again looking for my self…escaping myself… If they knew, if they only knew, then they wouldn’t be jealous at all. Instead, I’d become a cautionary tale for upcoming young adults: “If you follow your dreams, you will lose your friends and sink into such a deep depression that nothing can save you.”
Dreams. They have a funny way of being and existing—most people sacrifice their dreams for social construct. The few of us who are willing to chase our dreams when we are young and still able to fully experience them must sacrifice that to which most people cling—societal norms. Nora Charles never cared much about societal norms. She was a vibrant character with the perfect face of Myrna Loy. She drank too much, refused to be left out of the action, and affectionately pretended not to know her own husband in public. A result, though; Loy’s precocious character is ostracized from her family and relatives. Her love for Nick is enough, however, lasting through six Thin Man movies. More and more, I wish I could be like Nora Charles—brave and strong, impertinent and pure, despite everything else on the outside. I wish I could carry myself with the grace of Myrna Loy, with her elegance and expression. I wish I could be Myrna Loy.