With a Certain Savoir Faire

I admire those who have that worldly air about them that one can only get from cultivation, refinement and exposure to a civilized and sophisticated society.  Some are born with it and some of us have to go all out in search for that discerning urbanity.  I have been looking for a little culture in hopes that it would usher me into my next stages of life and allow me to experience the deities of discrimination and good taste.

I thought about ingesting some cultured dairy products such as cottage cheese, cream cheese, sour cream, mascarpone or yogurt in hopes for the desired outcome.  But these would probably only satisfy my stomach, not my mind and wouldn’t pass the muster with those who are in the know about these things.  So, I thought again, and came up with taking advantage of entertainment venues that small villages to large cities offer from coast to coast to the general public for such diversionary delight.

Many options to choose from, but as I have a long way to travel on this road to enlightenment, I quickly discarded, yet filed away for future reference, some of the more obvious paths to culture that would enable me to get quickly to my goal, such as:

Ballet?  Scratch!  Although the contemplation of watching a cavalier in tights seems captivating and the inference of French flavor is synonymous with the corps de ballet and overall good taste, I noticed, however, that the average dancer seems painfully long necked and way too thin.  I wouldn’t feel right snarfling down nachos (they do serve these, don’t they?) while watching a recital of Swan Lake.

Opera?  Not that I am opposed and how I could aspire to sing bel canto, but my attention span is quite limited and I am afraid my singing is, um, a bit off key and only honed for the shower.  It may not be the proper match unless I can get the appropriate libretto (basically the Cliff Notes for the performance) or somehow find a way to TIVO the live event and replay over the parts I don’t comprehend and be able to stop it when nature calls.

People have told me that the symphony is lovely.  If I could attend a performance at 8AM and with a bagatelle I would probably be okay.  Unfortunately I hear they typically perform in the evening and even with superb candence I would be snoozing soundly before the end of the first augmented sixth chord.  And I have a funny feeling my snoring wouldn’t be in appropriate pitch to the other instruments.

Giving it the ‘ole college try and not throwing in the towel and watching a pay-per-view movie at home, I think I found my entrée into culture… stage performance.

If you say it properly,  “The Theatre” offers a flair that reeks of style, panache and a bit of flamboyance – a retreat from everyday life.  The thrill of watching an actor perform on stage makes them (and you) seem exposed and resilient in the same instant.  I watched a man transform himself into Leonardo da Vinci and finessed the audience along for the ride.  For a brief instant in time, I was enchanted into another time and place, with thoughts other than my own, wondering and contemplating my life as it was in the time of Sr. da Vinci.  Would I have been of royalty, wealth and power or a peasant in love with the picturesque countryside?  Would I have traveled to the finest cities in Italy or reluctant to leave my family and small village?  Could I have broken the mold and emerged from one class into another?  Would I have been a thinker?  A doer?  Would my love muffin have been fondly referred to as my lebkuchen?

Truly any performance of good standing in an event that makes you ponder beyond the obvious is worth its weight in gold and gains you points for being civilized.  Even if you don’t “look” worldly and sophisticated on the outside, you will know on the inside that you are accomplished, classy and proficient in the finer points of your own life… and if that doesn’t work, go to plan “B”.  Get in your comfort pants, throw some onion soup mix in the sour cream, grab the chips and call it cultured.

Cynthia A. McClelland, curious observer of the obvious with interpretations of the oddities of daily life.  Mother, wife and lover of the furry, resides in the north Lake Tahoe area.

Cynthia A. McClelland © 2003-