With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there
Shirley Guest was an outrageously glamorous dancer, singer and stage performer during the 1930s and ‘40s. Well, I like to think she was. She may have been just a singer, maybe a dancer, or possibly just a stage performer. But without a doubt she would have been outrageous when in the mood and glamorous when she damn well felt like it.
When I knew her she was in her 70s and 80s. She wore her hair in short and loose whitish curls, and her tall frame no longer moved with a dancer’s litheness. The tips of her fingers were always bandaged, for a reason I never really understood why.
She lived in a corner house across the road of our own corner house. Our large corner blocks formed a gateway to a very country town court. She had an ex-husband, a motorcycle-racing son, a grandchild or two and a best friend we all knew as Mr Opps. He would visit almost every night to sit and watch TV with her.
Shirley was vivacious, funny and never suffered a fool. She treated me like a peer, and was the first person other than family and friends to make me feel special. She likened me to a ‘40s film star she once admired. Then one day she gave me her outrageously glamorous ‘50s and ‘60s ball-gowns that she said she would never wear again.
She died in 2001. I wish I knew the ‘40s film star’s name. I wish I knew if Shirley Guest was once a dancer, singer or stage performer. I wish I watched closer, listened more, asked her more questions and then wrote it all down.