The sound of Daphne’s aunt, Olivia, coughing cut through the silence in the room. I
hesitantly climbed the steps onto the stage and walked to the center. Nervously, I scanned the
room for a familiar face, and I caught the eye of Henry, Daphne’s boyfriend. As I began, he
gave me a reassuring nod, “Hello, umm my name is Rachel. I'm not really good at speaking so
here goes nothing.”
I met Daphne in year two and we did not have a single bland moment since. She was the
most free­spirited person I had ever met. Her lifestyle was very interesting ­ the flapper lifestyle,
which was something that I never really understood. Now don't get me wrong, she was smart as
a tack, as a matter of fact she had the highest grades in our class. Of course, she didn't want
anyone to know that she was a genius so she hid it with her loud, feisty attitude and her
“fashionable” pallor morris looking makeup. She always had her nose in American fashion
magazines, and it was her lifelong goal to look like Coco Chanel. Although she spent a good deal
of her time reading about fashion and famous stars like Joan Crawford, she would also sneak out
and illegally attend women's rights meetings. I don’t know exactly what they did at those
meetings but I do know when she got back she was always fired up and would go on and on
about how everyone deserved equal rights. I wasn’t really into it but I tried to be the supportive
friend.
I never really understood her excitement, until one random afternoon. We were hanging
out when she asked me something that I never thought about. She said, “Do you ever think about
how boring it is to repeat the same story over and over?” At the time, it didn't make any sense to
me and I thought to myself, “how silly, you think too much.” As time passed, I would mull
Daphne’s question around in my head, and I began to see my life as slightly more mundane.
Thinking about Daphne’s question is what prompted me to accompany her to a party.
Ever since the night we graduated, she was always attending parties. Almost all of her nights
were filled with dancing, boys, cigarettes, and drinking. I never would go to those but she was
always asking me, and telling me how fun they were. Two weeks ago today I finally gave in, and
I decided to go to one of these parties parties with her. I had no idea what to expect, and
honestly, I was terrified. I thought alcohol was disgusting and a nuisance. In America, they had
made it illegal, so I don't quite understand why England hasn’t done that. We drink just as much,
but anyway that day I decided I was going to live a little. I thought the party would just be an
evening affair, little did I know that in order to be a flapper girl it would take a whole day.
We arrived in Daphne's flat a few minutes later, her room was very different than my
19th century themed bedroom. Mine was very feminine covered in a lovely floral wallpaper,
while Daphne's room was covered with posters of people like Louise Brooks, Clara Bow and
other American icons that she loved. Daph was a wonderful seamstress but I never really knew
how truly amazing she was until that day she started going through her closet and trying to find
something that she could possibly use for me to wear. All her dresses were short and came only
to the knee, but Daphne insisted on me copying her bearcat attitude for the day and kept
pestering me to wear one.
“Here,” she said. I looked at it in horror it was a short little white dress covered in
sequins and nothing I would ever put on myself? however, I didn't want to disappoint my friend.
Thus I decided just for fun I would try it on, so I put it on over my head and before I even looked
in the mirror she screamed out, “oh it's perfect!”
“Where did you get this from?” I asked surprised that it didn't look half as bad as I
thought it would.
“I made it out of some rayon. It's this new material that's all the berries with the big
designers.”
“What you made this? This is amazing, Daph!” I exclaimed.
“Thank you. Coco Chanel’s wearing something similar, so I decided to make one.” Daph
nonchalantly stated.
“I don't know how I feel about wearing this in public,” I suddenly nervously burst out.
“You're going to get all the single birds out there I promise I’m being on the level with
you. I’m even a little bit jealous,” Daphne said with a tone that I took to be honesty.
“But you have a boyfriend, Henry, if anything I'm jealous of you. He's a really nice guy”
I said equally truthful.
“Yeah he's great isn't he? Anyway we still need to get your makeup on,” she said to me.
“I really… I don't really wear makeup that often I stuttered.”
“Trust me, I know you don’t, you don't really need it if you're going to look but today
we're going for the barely­there­bold­look. First thing we need to do get you some eyeliner, and
let's get some nice bold lips. Here, I have this cute little compact disc for rouge isn’t it wonderful
remember that trip to France I got it then. Oh, I almost forgot so you said I could do whatever I
want right?” she said with a sly grin.
“Yes,” I said anxiously waiting for what she was going to say next.
“To get the full look I'm going to need to cut your hair.”
“What!” I said, as I grabbed my hair, “No­no­no­no you can do my makeup and you can
make me wear all these scandalous looking clothing, but you are NOT cutting my hair.”
“What why not?” Daph whined, “don't you want to be fashionable.”
“Yes, but I can be perfectly fashionable without cutting my hair,” I reasoned.
“Come on Rachel, live a little don't be such a bluenose.”
“Ugh,” I sighed. I didn't want to hear her tease me all night and maybe it was partly
because of me thinking about her question, but whatever the reason? I said yes and allowed her to
begin sectioning my hair so it could be cut.
“Okay, you can cut my hair… as long as you promise me that you know what you're
doing,” I said.
“Of course…..of course……..obviously I know what I'm doing,” she proclaimed feigning
disappointment.
“Oh dear I think that I made a mistake,” I joked.
“No, no, you're fine stop fretting about it! Ok I’ll put a sheet over your dress, I don't want
to get any hair on it,” she states as she gently pushes me into her white rigid wood chair. “Ok,
now let’s think what hairstyle would suit you better, a bob like mine or more of a shingle?” she
asks as she puts on a peculiar cinched thinking face.
“I'm not really sure. Let's go with a bob... that's the one like Louise Brooks right”, I said
shocked that I remember such an unconventional fact.
“Well, yes!” Daph exclaimed, “I can't believe you remembered that.”
“Are you insulting me?” I asked.
“You? never, Rachel my dear I know it's harder for you challenged ones but you still
have some knowledge,” she says, while I try to hold in a giggle.
“Okay I'm ready, would you hand me those scissors, Rachel?”
“Ok,” I said. I cringed each time the scissors went snip snip.
“Close, I'm done,” Daphne proudly proclaims.
“I look great I love it, I love it!” I screamed, “I can't believe I actually love it thank you,
thank you, thank you I'm so glad you force me to do this half.” I jumped up and down as I
hugged her.
“Now let's do something else and get the finishing touches you ready I need you to put
these on,” she said, as she throws a bundled tan blob at me.
“Are these tights I’ve seen you wear these several times and honestly I always wanted a
pair but I never thought I would actually wear them,” I said as I shimmed the smooth material
over my legs. “Are you sure this waist or lack of my waist looks good on me?” I questioned.
“Of course, of course I swear I’m not razzing you, in the famous words of Coco Chanel
we just have to ‘let go of the waistline’” she said while handing me a pair of tie up heels I
doubted I could walk in nonetheless dance in. When Daph was all done and I was deemed ready
by Daphne's requirements she quickly slipped away and changed into an outfit similar to mine
but a bit more gaudy. By this time it was 6:30 in the evening. I thought it would be a little late I
didn't know that most of the parties that she went to didn't even start until 7, and it was
fashionable just to be a little bit late. With Daphne dressed she helped me teeter down the
hallway to the out of the loft building. I was so nervous I had no idea what to do. My surprise
increased when Henry pulled up in his breezer and stepped out and Daphne got into drive.
“You can drive I yelled in complete and utter shock. When and why would you ever learn
to drive?” I said in a lower tone after my yelling attracted looks from the couple across the street.
“Yes, why wouldn't I? Henry can drive, and he taught me well…”
“Daphne,” I said cutting her off, “do you not understand that you're a wo­?”
“What?” She said, and cut me off, “I'm tired of people saying because I'm a woman I
can't do this I can't do that I am a strong woman, a strong independent British woman in the 20th
century and I believe that if we can help raise money for the war like we did when we were
children or if we can take care of the household then bloody hell I can drive!”
Her statement shook me to my core. I knew she was into equality rights for women but I
never knew the feelings were this intense. As I thought about her previous question, I thought
her absurd thinking could be okay. The car came to an abrupt halt as she parked in a lot behind
the sleazy jazz. I thought for sure this couldn't be where we were going and I thought maybe they
were just joking with me but then they got out and walked in as if nothing was wrong. I just
tried to go along with it trying not to be the complete pill. The loud blaring big band music
could be heard from outside of the club. The place was jamming, and never had I seen so many
people jumping around dancing. Henry and Daphne immediately were involved in the quick
stepped dance that many others were doing. I tried to sneak away to the bar but Daphne wouldn't
let me sit for long. “Come on,” she said, “I didn't bring you out so you can sit alone you can do
that at home.” She dragged me to the center of the dancing as she screamed over the noisy music,
“Come on I'm going to teach you to do the Charleston.” She and Henry started doing an odd hop
shuffle that I suppose was the Charleston I tried to do it but I was not as coordinated as them. I
suppose you can say I did the abridged version of the dance. I watched in awe as they danced
and glided across the floor. It was then that I realized the meaning of her earlier words ­ why be
boring? She really was living, she was happy she was doing what she want it with her life and
for that I was jealous. The night went on with lots of drinking and smoking. Interesting
activities that I never thought I would be a part of. Daphne introduced me to something called a
cigarette holder that she said was a much more elegant way to smoke. I had a great time it was
wonderful and as the night came to a close we all piled back in the car to head home.
When I look up from the podium I had been staring down at, my vision becomes blurry
with tears. “Sorry,” I say, a barely audible whisper, “This is a hard thing to talk about.”
We would have been fine if we just went home, but turning away was not Daph’s thing. I
don't blame her for going to do what she did? I knew that she was doing the right thing I just wish
there would have been someone else to do the right thing. As we were entering into the car, Daph
and I sat in the back letting Henry Drive. Suddenly we heard a loud groan and yelling coming
from the entrance of the club. We all turned around to see two clearly Caucasian men harassing
the African American bass player from the band.
“I'm not going to stand for this!” Daphne yelled, “They can't do that just because his skin
color is different does not make him an animal or any less of human being.”
“This is not your fight. What are you doing?” I frantically tried to stop her, but she
hopped out the car, and Henry yelled and told her to come back, but it was too late he couldn't
stop her.
She turned around and looked both of us straight in the eyes and with a tone of quiet
anger, said “He’s a human, and so am I therefore he’s on my team. It’s my fight too.”
“Daphne, No!” I didn't even hear what she said after that I just know that I saw her fall I
saw the guys that hit her run off and I saw the terror plastered on the face of the man she saved. I
saw Daphne save someone's life and give up her own. I saw my friend the flapper girl from
London become a hero.
Daphne hid a beautiful brain and a strong will under her beautiful image. She showed me
that there is so much more to life than what everyone else is doing. She showed that me being
different is a good thing. She showed me we choose what we do in this life. She showed me the
art of thinking. She showed me true courage.