Continued, It Girl
To shift roles, a girl has to put everything she’s got into total transformation. It’s a change of costume, tempo, scenario. Each time I’d face that same pesky fear that the audience wouldn’t fall for it. And yet, they always did.
—Evelyn Talbot, in a letter written to Mr. Anthony Comstock, published after her death
And perhaps I did, too—for a time.
Did I choose to keep changing it all? The scenery, costume, role?
In the same way a butterfly could not tell you why or when it chooses to spin its chrysalis, nor could the creature tell you with any certainty what, if anything, will emerge, I could not have told you in those days what divine wisdom was guiding my steps.
The music in the orchestra pit doesn’t stop just because a showgirl falters. No, her job is to keep kicking, keep moving, keep putting on the show.
Each stumble of mine led to the next act that would reveal itself. The music kept playing; I had little choice but to keep dancing.
And like the butterfly breaking its way through wind and weather and past all dangers, my wings could not help but grow stronger.