Fridays are for sailors
A question for my fellow red-blooded men and women: in the time-honored hierarchy of stereotypically swoon-worthy male professions, what happened to sailors?
I mean, I feel like firemen, astronauts, and young bookish Oxford professors still have a little oomph to throw around at a cocktail party. Seafaring men of the world? I don’t know. I think a part of me moved on when all the wool went out of government-issued uniforms.
I can’t say that I have any real experience with my generation’s maritime community. I have never found myself, say, on a train platform with large groups of men in white shoes and flat hats on their way to the ends of the earth. However, I imagine that if it WERE to happen, it would be sort of rowdy and disappointing. Also, on any train platform in my fantasies, I’m invariably wearing this hat:
Yes. I feel it’s very safe to say that the modern day nautical community would respond to this much less warmly than our charmingly unfocused young man above.
Acetate aside, I still refuse to accept that the ship has sailed. What’s a girl to do? Perhaps take our Enid’s cue and keep the dream alive, one fabulous 40s collar at a time.
Natural fiber: the new rock in the storm for the today’s discerning single woman. Let this be a warning to you too, young bookish Oxford professor. The day you hang up your cardigan, sir, is the day I walk away.
