Miss Barbara Blonde

Take it from Miss Barbara Blonde, if you want to make it in New York—you're going to have to learn to be tough. A working class mannequin subjected daily to the dietary and catty pressures of display windows, torturous hair schools, and even yes—when times are really tough—beauty supply stores. It wasn’t like this in California, where the sun was usually shining and her parents were close by. Her mother, a regular fixture at Macy’s in LA and San Francisco, and her father, an accountant for the department store, warned Miss Barbara B not to venture so far from the familiar. But the smell of urine on the subway and the crisp winters and sweaty summers beckoned her. She knew that there would be endless opportunity, a new adventure around every corner. She packed her bag, put up her hair, and found herself dead smack in it—Brooklyn, New York.

Meet Miss B. If you’re a girl who thirsts for a taste of city living, read this column. She’s gonna make it after all.

----------------------------
Walk with me until we find the right spot
Our little excursion picnic in the park
Feet in the grass until it gets dark
That’s when I saw the fire flies spark

The popsickle stick is finally smooth
Hop on a lily pad for the summer groove
Walking arm and arm, so glad you came along
Check out the curly vine
The blanket was too small
But you call me baby doll
I could kiss you all the time

Watchin people have a good time
Watchin people have a good time in the summertime
Flying picnic blanket in the summer groove

No interruptions we’re all alone
Cause I don’t have my cellular phone
Sweatin your pose, wiggling your toes
Come at me like a panther
Cause you know yes is my answer

My mind is in the dirt making mud pies
The heavy heat stretch opened my eyes
You don’t need a subway token
Nature’s fee remains unspoken
The sun is shining through the leaves
On the wild flowers in the weeds
-----------------------------

“Picnic in the Summertime” by Deee Lite