Gigi Loves Paris: Halloween and Ramalama Bang Bang

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Halloween and Ramalama Bang Bang

It's time to feel a little spooky, to wonder about that sudden breeze as you walk home alone, to peer into dark corners and wonder if they're truly empty.

Halloween is coming.

Where I live, there is only sunshine and brutal heat. When I want to feel that tingly of the unknown, something romantic and mysterious, nothing sets the mood like, "Ramalama Bang Bang" by Roisin Murphy.

Roisin Murphy

More specifically I watch Wade Robeson do his thing on "So You Think You Can Dance" and let the 18th Century undead give me goosebumps all up and down my arms.

And I think about becoming a professional dancer -- again.

And Hot Australian coreographers.

If you haven't seen it yet:

CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW TO WATCH IT IN HD!!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ze3vtKpCoaE

Now that you've seen it at last:

You're welcome :)

1 comment:

AnonymousOctober 14, 2010 at 2:01 PM
I remember seeing this for the first time and thinking it was just as groundbreaking as Thriller was. LOVE it!
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What my Jane Austen heroine says about me:

You are memorable, lovely and clever, the life of the party... you always have the perfect thing to say in every situation. Your honesty, virtue, and lively wit enable you to rise above the nonsense and bad behavior that pervade your money-seeking and often spiteful society. Nevertheless, your sharp tongue and tendency to make hasty judgments often lead you astray... if not careful, you can display qualities that you despise - pride and prejudice. But if you can get past negative first impressions, your life and love story will be epic!!!

Lanhydrock The First Three Centuries

While taking the tour of the house, I started asking questions outloud (when I'm gobsmacked, I do that). I was in Lady Agar-Robartes room and the worker there started to answer some of my questions. He was absolutely adorable and knew everything, absolutely everything about the Agar-Robartes family, including where they were now. When he told me he'd written a book in the bookshop "Lanhydrock, the First Three Centuries", I immediately went out and bought it. Fascinating. Of course, it was written by a Gwyn Howells and a Mike England so I don't know who I spoke with but either way, a real find. I also purchased "A Victorian Family at Lanhydrock "Gone the Happy Dream" by Mike England. This has marvelous photos of Tommy Agar-Robartes and wonderful personal histories of the family. You can purchase the books by going to
http://www.localgiftstore.com/shop/shop-Lanhydrock-The-First-Three-Centuries-32760~0

On 8 December 1865, the front page of the London Times included the following obituary: 'On the 4 inst., at 34 Coleshill-street, Eaton-square, Frances, the wife of Louis Lindon, Esq. Friends will kindly accept this intimation.' The 65 year old Mrs Lindon was survived by her husband, a sales agent twelve years her junior, and three children. The eldest, 31 year old Edmund was in government service; 27 year old Herbert and 21 year old Margaret still lived at home. Their mother's death naturally affected them, but it was otherwise of interest only to those with memories of Hampstead forty-six years ago. For it was there, in the autumn of 1818, that Frances Lindon had been known as Fanny Brawne. And it was there that she met a struggling young poet named John Keats. The anonymous Mrs Lindon was, in fact, the mysterious, unnamed beloved of the now famous Keats.
It was seven years after her death before Fanny's identity became known. Though she had told her children of her romance with Keats, and shown them her collection of his books and love letters, she had also made them promise to never tell their father. But when Louis Lindon died in 1872, Fanny's children (led primarily by Herbert) were finally able to profit from their mother's story.
And profit they did. Though Keats had died in 1821, just 25 years old and largely unknown, the resulting years had witnessed a belated recognition of his genius. He was now considered among the greatest English poets. His works sold briskly and, in 1848, the first biography of Keats was published. And though it mentioned Keats's engagement to a young lady, it never named the lady in question.
Fanny had witnessed the growth of Keats's reputation; perhaps she had read the numerous books which eulogized him. But she never revealed herself, nor took a noteworthy interest in his life. Her husband knew only that she and the poet had met as neighbors in Hampstead. Fanny never told him otherwise.
But she had kept Keats's love letters to her, over three dozen of them; many were mere notes, others lengthy chronicles of his devotion, others jealous ramblings which revealed a heretofore new (and, to his admirers, unpleasant) aspect of Keats's character. These letters would later be celebrated as among the most beautiful ever written. But in the 1870s, matters were quite different. Fanny clearly believed they were valuable, or else she would never have given them to her children. Yet what sort of value did she envision? Did she think they would aid scholarship? Or give new insight into Keats's life? Or did she intend for her children to sell them and literally profit from her long ago romance? We do not know the answer. We do know, however, that, upon his father's death, Herbert Lindon immediately sought to sell the letters.
And so while no one considered the death of 65 year old Frances Lindon to be noteworthy, the name of John Keats's beloved was noteworthy indeed. Thus began the contradictory legacy of Fanny Brawne.