Ella, the dancehall girl…
I saw her sitting on the lawn looking so ill at ease, dressed in a stark geometric style that rendered her cheap and unwanted. Having spent the last few summers in the Black Hills of South Dakota perusing the old styles, the local saloons still in their glory, and the general ambience of days of old, I recalled seeing this little lady's family of parlor lamps lighting the way of swinging saloon doors and sawdust on the floors.
Many have said they were born a hundred years to late and yes, she too thought this as well. As a product of the 1970s, she always knew she was out of sync with the times and the geometric look imposed on her.
She has the most beautiful curves and legs worthy of fishnet stockings like her older sister unceremoniously named the "Leg Lamp". I knew she had a chance at another life if I brought her home but I hesitated. But as kids all do, my dearest son-in-law says "you want her? let's bring her home" and into the old green Jeep she went. I let her sit for a few days trying to decide just what would serve her best. It was decided. The ideas were in full swing and it was just a matter of time for her new threads to be delivered. But as other projects loomed on the horizon, she was stripped of and cleaned and her legs were sanded up to smooth out some of the time. No not all! Because all scars should tell a good story, and she certainly had hers, it was decided to honor her for keeping fit enough for the last fifty years.
In the process of giving her back her life, she gained a name… Ella, the dancehall girl. She is not for sale anymore.
I am pleased to introduce Ella, the Dancehall Girl of yesteryear.
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