The iconic fashion designer, Gabrielle "Coco" Chanel, was known for inventing The Little Black Dress and No. 5 perfume. But she also had a reputation for the various untruths she told about her childhood. Each tall tale rendered Chanel's rags-to-tweed success story even more impressive. The reality, however, was a painful cliche. A young woman wooed, seduced and left by an older itinerant peddler. Pregnant, she tracks him down and they marry. But the six children they have never know their father because he keeps leaving. When their mother dies at only thirty-one, he abandons the family one final time. The second oldest, Gabrielle, learned a lesson that stuck for life: don't wait on anyone. I, on the other hand, have been a champion waiter. Is either path "better"? Does it matter?
In the late 19th century, being female, poor and orphaned was a hard lot. Despite the rough existence, Gabrielle lived her young adult life on her own scrappy terms. She wore straw hats without feathers* that she made herself. She disdained the coquettishness that was expected of women and spoke her mind. At a time when a woman would never leave home without a well-fitting corset, Gabrielle stopped wearing one. She took lovers when her wealthy boyfriends wouldn't marry someone out of their class. Even more shocking is that she did these things before she was Chanel. And in doing so risked ridicule and ostracization by a society that provided few safety nets for women.
Still today, people with uteri are conditioned by a patriarchal society to be compliant. It used to be that a woman was approved as a lady by her low voice, pristine gloves and willingness to prostrate herself for others. We've moved beyond the gloves. But the expectation remains that AFAB persons give more and make do with less. Acquiescence, then, is a safety net of sorts. Going along to get along. When we wait or postpone our own feelings or life the status quo is maintained.
Gabrielle had little patience for waiting on anyone. After her great love, a wealthy aristocrat nicknamed "Boy", married someone else, she and Boy convinced her lover, Balsan, to set her up with a hat shop. Balsan, a man whose castle she moved into (uninvited) and who grew to love her, agreed. In the apartment above the store, Coco and Boy were together. The short affair only ended when Boy died. But by then business is booming and Gabrielle is on her way to becoming Chanel.
I know waiting well.
I waited for my partner to stop drinking. I waited on my mother to stop leaving. I waited on multiple boss' to compensate me adequately. I waited for a friend to ask about me. I waited for a boyfriend to keep his word. I waited on my brother to do better. (Still waiting on that one.) I waited for a friend to value our relationship as much as I did. I waited for permission from some God to call myself a writer.
Compliance kept me in place. Summoning patience and swallowing my feelings felt safe. Unchallenged, nothing changed and while that wasn't good, at least it felt familiar. But acquiescence is more of a trap than a safety net. I became bitter and my frustration boiled over, a fetid soup flooding into other areas of my life. I grew less curious and was more easily exhausted. Life felt stressful and tight, as if there was never enough time. Doubts multiplied because I didn't trust myself. And yet if a world of waiting made me bitter, a world alone seemed brutal.
"Mademoiselle". The form of address one uses for an unmarried French-speaking woman. A sign of respect and a show of deference. It's also the name, as it were, that most people who knew Gabrielle Chanel called her. Mademoiselle's kind of fame guarantees access and freedom but it does something else: it ensures a captive audience. Proximity to greatness is as alluring as satin on skin. But people said Mademoiselle spoke at them, not with them. She apparently had no patience (nor interest) for who they were --sister, wife, mother --outside of their interaction with her. When you were with Mademoiselle you talked about her and her work.
An audience is lovely if I'm lecturing. . .
but what makes life juicy and gives me hope are relationships.
If you're a regular person you need to cultivate relationships. You must put in the time to make connection a priority. When you're with that other person, you must be willing to listen without imposing your wants or judgments. And something else: you must give the other person a chance to step up. This is why I still wait. We are nothing without each other. I cannot exist without you.
I've started to imagine waiting as an opportunity, not a dictum. With this lens, I can keep resentment at bay because I'm giving someone a chance. And even if they don't seize it, I can still take action. I can speak, move, walk away. It's risky, yes. Non-compliance is always dangerous. But the trade-off feels not only more fraught--stagnant with unspoken feelings and assumed expectations--it also doesn't grow a relationship.
I'm a new-to-gardening gardener. I plant tender tomato shoots, reverently touch velvety leaves, stand back and hope. Learning the other parts, like watering, along the way. It's not water or don't though. I'm realizing that I should look, notice how the growing stalks appear, maybe how they feel, even. Then, water, if the tomatoes seem distressed. I look, notice, then water. If I limit my actions to waiting and hoping, I risk bitterness. Life sucks. I stop trying new things. Everything is on the cusp of unravelling and I can't do anything right.
Gabrielle Chanel didn't wait on anyone but her life was largely absent of meaningful relationships. But me... Damn, I want tomatoes. I need tomatoes! Round ones, oblong ones. Some with a little fuzz near the top. Tomatoes with different tones streaked through, smooth as Carrara. And that earthy smell! The sensual pleasure of contact and warm, bursting skin. I want that too. What about you?
*feathers in a women’s hat were a sign of wealth. The more, the better.
What’s On My Mind:
Vacation. Every year May, with its unending pageantry around every little and big thing, wipes the floor with me. And somehow May bleeds in June so as of this writing, I am totally depleted. Wiped out. The good news is salt, loud waves and some of my right people are hugely restorative for me. I head to the beach soon and setting the GPS to Pine Knoll Shores is on the horizon. What are your summer plans? How to do you recharge? Share your tips and plans.
Jaime Green, author of the new book The Possibility of Life Tweeted something that stuck enough to get me to change my morning. She said “the best thing you can do for yourself as a writer is to write fast and good enough,” GAH! I am the SLOWEST, y’all. I Tweeted back “here for your tips, Jaime!” and then said a quick prayer. Maybe Jaime knew I had ordered her book, maybe not but she said “for me it’s all about free writing —morning pages or whatever you do—to practice writing quickly and without evaluation, let your brain learn what it feels like to be a faucet on full blast.” It’s only been a week and I don’t yet have that gush going yet but I’m trusting it’s coming. I do still love Twitter.
What I’m Reading and Loving:
This piece on the power of 50 bucks over at Romper. If you’ve ever doubted that the dollar you give actually makes a difference, think again. H/T Ari at Ninth St Bakery who shared the piece with supporters of the Durham Neighbors mutual aid program.
Three words: Age of Vice. It’s The Godfather in early 2000s India. If Matrix left me cold (shhh…) because I felt as if I was watching the story behind frosted glass, the three main characters in this one leave me hot and breathless. I want to hang out with each of them! I could NOT put this book down. I’ll leave you with one more word: trilogy. You’re welcome.
I found How To Talk to People podcast from The Atlantic last week. An episode from last fall, A New Formula for Happiness, focuses on the findings of one of my favorite research projects ever: The Harvard Study of Adult Development. You likely know it as The Happiness Study. Go listen.
Need a little something different on Pride? Perhaps looking at the intersection of pride and race? Look no further than Robert Jones Jr recent Substack. Baldwin, riots, Jordan Neely and his own experience as a Black Queer partnered man living with chronic illness in NYC. Go read (skim if you want, I’m not judging) and subscribe.
The end and wow. I'm so grateful for every person who clicks, reads, shares and comes back. Thank you!
I've been missing your voice in my inbox. It was worth the wait!!
This resonates with me a lot. Can’t “wait” to see you post beach trip! :-)