The Twenties had all the glamour, the vivacity and the audacity of a nation that had just come out of war and had not yet realised the impellent restrictions of a recession. Today in 2009 I feel that we are almost at the same position. Perhaps without the immediate war accolades or turn of need for the ‘swinging’ attitudes, we are however in a time of downturn, a time where, at most one ought to be feeling the pinch.
The Bright Young Things of the Twenties promenaded to and fro from party to party, status recognatus, announcing their every step, allowing even the meekest of socialites to record the social ladder. Perhaps with a nod to a hacker or a move to the newest of telephone booths the Bright Young Things were recorded on Fleet Street. Steven Tennant documented by Cecil Beaton at this or that party made tabloid fodder.
Today it appears as a matter of fact. Who was where, when and with whom. The major cities have a stack of paps waiting at the hotspots for the ‘fame and fortune’ to step in front of the lens. Flash.
Twitter, I am realising is another parallel of this and we might indeed be wise to think about the outspill we pour on each others lives. It is a superb tool. I love it and I am perhaps the easiest and guiltiest culprit.
The Bright Young Things reappear today.
Twitter begin: ..Miss Platman was seen entering the Groucho with Madam X and Mr Y ..she left two hours later alone and whistled for a Hackney Carriage…Twitter end.