There is Something About that Julia Sugarbaker
Lights went out in Georgia:
I know all of you who profess to hate Julia drone on and on about her arrogance, haughtiness, and self-righteous attitude, but secretly I know you, as I do, wish we all had a little more Julia in us.
I’m referring to one of the main characters from the 1980’s sitcom Designing Women. The show is about 4 southern women who own an interior design firm and their African American delivery man. It chronicles their adventures, personal and professional crises, and witty banter about life in the South as women clinging to the romance of yesteryear and progressing with the modern vibe of tomorrow. Twenty times better than The View because they have more class and less BS.
I envy these women.
Mary Jo Shively, Charlene Frazier, Suzanne Sugarbaker, Anthony Bouvier, and Julia Sugarbaker are my idols. Mary Jo is the small-in-stature, meek, single mom of two. Charlene is the busty blonde from the back woods of Missouri who has a heart as big as her family tree and dreams of marrying a soldier. Suzanne, younger sister of Julia and former beauty queen, is the quintessential southern belle and debutante who is more like a modern day Scarlet O’Hara, rich, self-centered and flashy, brimming with self confidence, beauty, and alimony from her geriatric ex-husbands. Anthony is a considerate falsely accused ex-convict attending night school at the local community college fighting stereotypes and prejudice with humor and sarcasm. Julia, the self-assured ring leader, who drips with bravado and grace, is armed with a sharp tongue and sashay to match. Her check bones are the only thing higher than the society she was born into.
Truth be told, I am more like Suzanne than any of them with our similar pageant history, flamboyancy, and attraction to older men.
If I could take a piece from each one of these women, I would undoubtedly be “Iron-Woman with a sense of style.”
I am constantly reminded that I was born in the wrong era. When I watch this sitcom I am transported to a time when women were worshiped for their beauty, class, charisma and were courted like queens. One Elvis Presley song and I am done for.
Julia, more than the other members of the cast, sparks a fire in my soul with her heated one-woman tirades and harsh reprimands. Her moving and inspiring rants would make Ari Gold from Entourage wet his pants like a school boy being punished by the Head Master.
Terminator speeches delivered by Julia pack a punch. I plan on practicing my verbal assaults and honing my skills for an oral whipping to unleash when the opportunity presents itself. If I could master even 1/10 of her potency as a word ninja, even the most unruly of town hall meetings wouldn’t prove to be much of a challenge.
Now all I need is a southern accent, air of pride in my stride, a 1980’s teased wig, a jewel-toned ill-fitted dress complete with shoulder pads, and tacky costume jewelry to match.
I refuse to be one of those women who, “go down the freeway of life with the back of my dress tucked in my pantyhose.” Armed with the grace and dignity these women possess, I plan on being in their same league of class (with only half the volume in my hair) while still eating for breakfast any man and ignorant soul who crosses my path.
Watch out, world! The South, and the women that created the romance of that era, will rise again!
