Rings of fire once populated these flaming autumn days; rings of cock twirled and spun their circles of burn too. Lace of florals, fabrics of sheer, and the power of pretty – it all seems so flimsy, so easily torn. Satin sheets of leopard seemed very romantic as a wise woman wondered what happened when we weren’t in bed. That same sense of female empowerment comes across in the bop and beat of this Chappell Roan song, and female empowerment is about the only hope that seems to exist in these dark days.
You know what they say:
Never waste a Friday night on a first date
But there I was, in my heels with my hair straight
And so I take him to this bar – this man wouldn’t dance
He didn’t ask a single question
And he was wearing these fugly jeans
It doesn’t matter though
He doesn’t have what it takes to be with a girl like me
Some songs remind you of what you needed to be all those years ago, and if you stomp through today with a little extra casual cruelty, the piercing punctures of stilettos piercing hearts that didn’t quite deserve it, more power to you. A riveting thread runs from Madonna through Lady Gaga all the way to this pulsating pussy-power anthem – and self-empowerment lifts everyone, regardless of gender labels and limitations.
Years ago, long before Andy, and somewhere after yet another failed romance, some hyper mega bummer boy, I remember walking through Copley Square on a windy, sunny, and somehow still-cutting day, blaring the bridge of Madonna’s ‘Express Yourself’ and pounding the pavement with purposeful strides, “And when you’re gone he might regret it, think about the love he once had…” My heart was as hurt as it was hellbent on hurting whomever was next.
I’m not proud of all the collateral damage that I left in my wake, and all the pain that begot more pain. All I cared about was that my coat billowed beautifully behind me, that I could walk fabulously forward without looking back, and that I would do the dancing and the trouncing and the pummeling on hearts that inadvertently crossed my dangerous and ridiculously dramatic path.
Get up off your feet, get up on that bar
Walk that walk from Tokyo to New York
With everything you feel and everything you are
Walk that walk, flash the camera
Flash the camera, flash the camera, you’re a star!
Perhaps this false confidence was a major misstep, and I’m not averse to acknowledging the many flaws in the way I executed portions of the past. Perhaps my strut was a mask; perhaps it was the key element to my survival. Perhaps it was the only thing that kept me in existence. Whatever the case, it got me through – or maybe I got through in spite of it all. I still revere the power of a pop song, and the song of a siren who is thoroughly sick of the fucked-up patriarchy that has informed centuries of who we are.
A super graphic ultra modern
Ooh you got me la-la-la-ing
Hyper-sexy top to bottom girl like me.
