Our generation, where the men are Gatsby and women Golightly.


When people think Audrey Hepburn they think of that coffee cup and those shades and that little black dress andher teeth clenching that cigarette holder. Just about every petite girl I’ve known with a facebook profile will have her on there somewhere, not to mention a bunch of not-so-petite ones. 

While she may have been every college co-ed’s idol since the movie was releases, it’s only recently become apparent that she’s the Gen Y mascot. Here are some honest reasons why:

1. She’s kind of a whore

Call girl, party girl, working girl, lady of the powder room, you name it but you can’t deny that she’s taking money to provide a product at times so hard to find in our existential world: company. And I’m not even talking about the Truman Capote version. Conversely, everybody who is part of a social network with at least one ‘friend’ on it that they can’t list more than 3 things about without consulting his/her profile is net-whoring. Every single one of us loves the attention and secretly hopes we will somehow be lavished with money as a result of this. Same nebulous goals, different times…

2. The Sixties defines our culture

Is it any wonder why Mad Men seemingly has a huge impact on our tastes/preferences? It’s no coincidence that skinny ties, short jackets and snug fits came back shortly after the millennial countdown, it’s 1960 all over again. JFK 2.0 is in the White House, media has created another creative revolution, and drugs + alcohol are being consumed without the nauseating lethargy of the Cobain generation nor the conspicuous crassness of Gordon Gecko’s. Ours is the generation where times are palpably changin’ while we long for the grace and elegance of a bygone era before Bush when things may not have made sense, but they moved slow enough for us to notice.

3. We may be phony, but we know we’re phonies.

Remember when Kurt offed himself because he couldn’t take how disingenuous the whole world had become? Not me, I maintain that his was merely the other end of the typical junkie battle. In deciding the fate of the hardcore addict it’s usually a question between the pocket-book and the pills of which is going to run out first. Usually, the cash goes first and the junkie dies after a depressing career as more than just ‘kind of’ #1 mentioned above. Sometimes their heads are straight enough through the drug haze to get so rich they have more drugs they can possibly handle and they either overdose or eat hot lead in order to get a sensation. That’s the real Kurt Cocaine, but I digress. Point is all of us who’re left after the idealists have gone to hell? We at least realize that we’re hipocrites, and that so is everybody else. We may still be hipocrites, but at least we’re more tolerable ones with this admission. Whatever redeeming quality Holden Caulfield had is found in the fact that he’s willing to overlook everyone’s phoniness along with his own by the end of the book. Hey, nobody enjoys a whiner, shut up and join the party already (see #2).

These are pretty much all you need to be a Holly Golightly, maybe throw in a little more minimalist elegance and some verve. Again, what makes her our idol is less the fact that ever teenage girl thinks she’s pretty, and more the fact that we are fake whores living in a fake world who are okay with this and eager to have fun. The 60s define our era, and we joyfully embrace it. After all the crazy years of ‘soul-searching’ and meaning by our boomer-parents Don Draper sums it up with two penetrating lines, “The universe, is indifferent.” and “Make something of yourself.” The first she knows and the second she follows and together they construct the form-fitting black armor that, despite whatever vituperative critics of past and present have hurled her way, have allowed Holly Golightly to remain.


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