Today your humble blogger is walking a very thin line. I desperately want to employ one of my patented displays of imbecilic foolishness, but instead find myself under a rare case of self-censorship. I’ve even had to change the title of this post four times already to avoid offending.
Not making the cut were “I Spent $30 to View an Old Dress, Believe It or Not!,” “Close Encounters of the Tacky Kind,” and “Good Grief, Norma Jean.” Lame and insipid as they are (always a feature here on Snakes in the Grass), each had to be jettisoned out of an abundance of caution. I’m told Earnest Hemingway struggled with his writing too.
The reason for my hesitancy is all about matrimonial harmony, or specifically a desire to maintain it. Of all the dear readers of this blog, there is no one more so than my lovely wife. She laughs, cries, and shakes her head with nearly every dispatch I upload here, sometimes not even out of pity. Which is why I am treading slowly today; the subject matter is one that is near and dear to her heart: Marilyn Monroe.
Gorgeous loves Marilyn. She has several books about her, and is always on the lookout for more when we visit used bookstores and the public library. She also never fails to buy a magazine if Marilyn graces a cover. The latter isn’t actually difficult to find. I’m convinced that each state code has a business and commerce statute requiring grocery stores to display magazines with her image no less than six times a year in order to maintain an operating license. Most of those magazines find their way into our home.
For a husband, this isn’t such a bad thing. It could instead be books and magazines about cooking and baking, or perhaps ones on healing crystals. Well, in truth those kinds of books and magazines actually are stacked on our coffee table. But when I flop down on the couch, it’s never a Martha Stewart offering that catches my eye.
Marilyn was in a class completely all her own. Decades after her death she still conveys a glamour that is timeless. When I see pictures of other classic movie actresses like Elizabeth Taylor, Grace Kelly, Deborah Kerr, etc., of course I see that they’re beautiful because they were. But their beauty, at least to me, is one that fits the time period in which they were stars. I suppose that’s a polite way of saying that they’re now somewhat dated looking, captured in that 1950’s and 1960’s period of clothing, hair, makeup, etc.
Marilyn, on the other hand, lives on unrestrained by neither era nor fashion. Even in those rare moments when she allowed the camera to catch her in private and unguarded moments, she had such an enduring grace and enchantment about her.
Or perhaps it’s also that she was so vulnerable. We see both the beauty and her frailty.
Because of all these things — her beauty and her weaknesses — my wife has always identified more with the Norma Jean persona rather than the Marilyn one. And although the last thing I’d ever want to do is deride a figure whom she admires so much, a recent Marilyn Monroe encounter that we experienced in our own backyard is ripe for my tendencies to otherwise mock or ridicule. Hence the eggshells on which I am figuratively walking.
It all started about a month ago when we read that the dress worn by Marilyn, on the occasion of President Kennedy’s 45th birthday party at Madison Square Garden in 1962, would be on display here in St. Augustine at the Ripley’s Believe it or Not Museum. This was the historic occasion on which she famously sang “Happy Birthday, Mr. President” in that often-imitated breathy song-voice of hers. The dress was purchased by Ripley’s in 2016 for 4.8 million dollars, making it the world’s most expensive dress ever.
Gorgeous reacted to this news with something akin to an exulted and ceremonious thrill. Except for a couple of quick gasps, she was speechless for several beats. She then found enough words to announce that we would definitely be going to see it.
For my part I reacted in somewhat of a jaded manner: “Ripley’s Believe it or Not? Seriously? That’s who owns Marilyn’s dress now?!!!! She has got to be rolling over in her grave knowing that! What’s next for Ripley’s, Martha Stewart’s prison togs?!”
They say that one’s worst audience is usually your spouse. Gorgeous looked over at me, her composure and voice now removed of any traces of the previous state of exaltedness.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the dress.” Full stop.
Oops.
Well, it was just a few short months ago that we eagerly saw the wardrobe of the Grantham family for the “Dressing Downton” exhibit at the Lightner Museum. There’s really no need for me to be such a snob about such exhibits, right?
On the appointed day, we arrived at the Ripley tourist trap museum during the first hour of their opening. St. Augustine’s tourist season is at least six weeks away from ramping up, so we took advantage of a mid-week visit when things are slow in the Historic District. Not only was the parking lot mostly empty, but we indeed ended up having the place nearly all to ourselves. Soon it would be just us, Marilyn, and the tallest man in the world.¹
Hard as I tried to be respectful for the significance of what we were about to experience, it really didn’t help matters that the first museum “employee” one sees upon entrance to the museum is this guy:
I couldn’t help myself and immediately started riffing on this guy’s wonderful look, that he’s probably an after-hours crossdresser with Marilyn’s dress, and if you look closely doesn’t he kind of resemble an older Arthur Miller? Gorgeous ignored me. As we approached the ticket counter, I asked which of us was paying for the tickets?
“You are,” she muttered quietly. Full Stop.
It took us forever to eventually get to Marilyn. Those Ripley folk are quite diabolical: they expertly place her exhibit in a place where you have to first see their other offerings before you get to the dress. And there also opportunities to spend more of your money too. I’ve never seen so many vending machines in a museum before.
But, oh, the things they have on display here. Those stuffed shirts over at the Lightner really ought to walk the few blocks over this way to pick up tips on museum thrills. Ripley has something for all ages and, um, tastes.
Eventually though, we did finally get to the main attraction. After a few pauses… the moment arrives.
And there is the dress!
The friendly and knowledgeable docent who was placed at the exhibit told us that the display cabinet is encased in a bullet proof glass for security. However, they do allow visitors to walk on all sides of it to be able peer in as close as possible. Since literally no one else was in that room for 20 minutes, Gorgeous had the dress all to herself. She and the docent spoke at length about the dress, Marilyn, her tragic life, etc. By the end of the visit, the two of them exchanged names and email addresses. New friends are made courtesy of Ripley’s five million dollar investment!
Gorgeous was happily beside herself in getting to be close to something so important to Marilyn Monroe and her legacy. Luckily for me, she forgot all about my earlier incorrigible behavior as we were leaving. Life is full of second chances.
My birthday isn’t until next December. If I’m lucky maybe I can have a breathy version of “Happy Birthday” sung to me in a slinky dress. Just to be clear, I’m only writing to one dear reader right now. Believe it or not.
Until next time…
¹ FULL DISCLOSURE: I ended up spending more time looking at the permanent Robert Wadlow exhibit than I did Marilyn’s dress.
Snakes in the Grass 
Ha! I can’t imagine a more painful excursion (and YOU paid for it??!!). Hopefully, you received a lot of good husband credits and can cash them in for something more up your alley. Oh, and if Gorgeous ever wants to visit the Hotel del Coronado where Some Like it Hot was filmed, let me know when you’ll be in town!
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Deal!
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I went with my husband to a guitar show once. He went to a cat show once. We have a lot of “onces” but always try to enjoy it in some way. Looks like you made Gorgeous happy and if you had a treat from the vending machine, no one is saying.
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Shhhh! Let’s keep it that way!
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Oh my gosh, Marty you want that cake too?
You totally nailed it…You gave a tribute to Gorgeous and Marilyn alike, and how can Gorgeous NOT give you that fantastic birthday gift after all these “sacrifices”?
I will make a note of this…to be continued in December!
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I hope you’re right, Elizabeth! True story: When we lived for a very brief time in Portland, Oregon, our loft looked over the street which was on the route for the annual naked bike riders. I was looking forward to that with great anticipation. On the appointed day, I saw about fifty riders, perhaps only two of them were female, and they were heading away from our vantage points, so in fact I never actually saw anything. I felt gypped! But later that evening, my lovely wife rode around the loft on her bike completely nude for my benefit only. Is that love or not?!
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That is love with humor 🙂
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What I really want to know the most…..What did Gorgeous think of this post?
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That’s still the big question to answered, Donna. As I write this (6:00am the following day), she still hasn’t seen it! .
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Marty, You are a good man to take Gorgeous to see the dress. Will she be taking you to see Tim the “Tool Man” Taylor’s garage.
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Joe, yes, absolutely. But I’ll still pay for admission!
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What we do for love. You got off easy. Once I had to do a crossing from West Palm Beach to the Bahamas on a slow freight boat where there was no place to sleep but on some of the actual freight on deck. An unevenly stacked pile of 4×4 lumber to be exact, so that my husband could pass off to his boss who was waiting in a boat just outside the Bahamian port, some stereo equipment he’d bought in the states that he didn’t want to pay the duty on. So I had a miserable crossing on a freighter AND was accesory to a crime. Did I mention there were cockroaches all over the boat? Look at it this way: you’ll never have to go to Ripley’s again, it was for a good cause, and it didn’t involve anything illegal. You’re a good man Charlie Brown.
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I can’t even come close to competing with that one, Sue! I mean, the dress was actually interesting to see — it was the other stuff that made me roll my eyes. I want a stereo components too — do you think ex-hubbie would travel the same route for little ‘ol me???!
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A true story of crime and punishment, without a doubt.
AND I learned a new word: docent. Always a good day when your vocabulary expands.
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Which in the case of the Ripley museum might be a stretch of the term. I think the same people who discuss exhibits might also be working in the gift shop the next hour. But who am I to second-guess multi-million dollar operations?!
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You are the man! Keep up the fabulous work.
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I try! 😉
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Totally mAde me smile and laugh and all good things!! Great post!!
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Thank you!
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Oh, I’d love to see Marilyn’s dress and the clothes of Downton Abbey. Years ago I saw a Smithsonian exhibit of Inauguration Gowns worn by First Ladies. It was cool. I still think back on it fondly. Maybe someday you’ll remember this experience in the same warm light!
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Thanks, Ally. So much of what I write here is mostly a lampoon at myself. I actually had a great time there. I lived in DC for many years, and I do recall those gowns on display at the American History Museum. It was fascinating to see how fashioned changed so much over the years, and also which First Ladies were more adventurous.
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Big Points, Marty! I would be giving you HUGE bonus points for that one! 🙂
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Ah, love and marriage, eh? 🙂
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I once called my sister and sang happy birthday to her in Marilyn’s throaty voice…sans dress. She laughed out loud and said “I knew EXACTLY who you were imitating!”
Those were the good old days. I’d call her and sing in different languages and make up “off color” poems. LOLOL No more.
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Man, my wife NEVER reads my blog. I post old journal entries and she doesn’t like reading about my old girlfriends. I don’t blame her. I don’t want to hear about her old boyfriends, either. Each man wants to be the alpha and omega.
Are you kidding? It could instead by whiskey or gambling or a dozen other horrible things. Marilyn is the LEAST of vices.
Norma Jean wasn’t a persona. That was the real person. Marilyn was the persona.
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Ha, I always wondered if your wife read those old journal entries. I don’t blame her on one level, but she’s also missing some great stuff.
My vices slowly started ebbing years ago. At this point, I’ll take happily take Marilyn. It’s nice to have no drama. And you’re right — Marilyn was the only persona. Many thanks as always for chipping in, Mark.
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I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m deeply disturbed by the poster of the man and the horse in bed… Do you think that’s where the idea came from for that Godfather scene? 🙂
You’re a good man Marty!
And I agree with you – Marilyn had a classic, gritty, sexy beauty that transcended era. I used to look like her. When I was younger. In my dreams…
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Thanks, AGMA! I thought about the Godfather scene also; I suppose everyone of a “certain age” might too when they see it There are so many things at that place that I thought equally disturbing — certainly a photograph man with five swords down his throat was a little tough to look at prior to lunch. 🙄
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