This short story is from <1950s Nostalgic Collection of Short Stories for Seniors> by Bradley Windrow. It is perfect for seniors, even for dementia patients. Be sure to read until the end, as there’s a special gift waiting for you! hope you enjoy it!
Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring. –Marilyn Monroe
“Lily, sweetheart,” I called out to my granddaughter, who was anxiously pacing up and down, scrolling through her phone. “What’s so important on that phone?”
“Today is the old-school dance at school, and I have nothing to wear, Grandma. Got any idea?” she asked.
“In my day, we had magazines to decide what to wear.” I raised an eyebrow. That got her attention. She finally looked up, her eyes lighting up as she noticed something on my bookshelf.
“Whoa, what’s that?” she asked, pointing to the family photo album that was sitting nearby.
“Oh, that?” I smiled, grabbing the album off the shelf. “That’s my high school yearbook. Just a bunch of old memories. Nothing exciting.”
She practically lunged for it, eager to flip through the pages. She turned to the first picture and froze, staring at me in my prom dress from 1955.
“Oh. My. God. Grandma, you look like Marilyn Monroe!” she gasped. “That’s you?”
“Well, not exactly Marilyn, but I did try.” I laughed. “That was my prom look, inspired by the queen of glamour herself.”
Lily’s eyes were wide with admiration.
“That’s amazing. I’ve got a school dance coming up, and I have to try that look. Can you help me do it?” she asked.
I leaned back in my chair, my heart swelling with the kind of joy that only grandmothers feel when their grandkids take interest in their past.
“Oh, honey, I’d love to. Let’s give you a Marilyn makeover,” I said in excitement.
She jumped up and started bouncing around like she was in a musical. We wasted no time. We gathered supplies, cleared the bathroom counter, and set up a glam station that could’ve made Hollywood jealous. There was a sense of excitement in the air, and I found myself laughing at how quickly I was falling back into the rhythm of my teenage years. I explained to Lily how Marilyn Monroe was the epitome of 1950s glamour.
“She had that effortless style, you know? Curves, confidence, and the perfect red lipstick.” I smiled at the memory of those years. “I wanted to look just like her. Still do, sometimes.”
“Grandma,” Lily said, wide-eyed, “what was it like back then? I mean, you were so popular, right?”
“Well, I’ll tell you, I wasn’t exactly at the top of the popularity pyramid. But yes, I was known—mostly for my outstanding fashion sense,” I explained.
Lily snorted at that, but I knew she was already hooked. I pulled out a satin dress I’d worn for my own prom, which had now seen better days but still had that glamorous feel.
“Alright, let’s get started,” I said, tossing her a bottle of temporary bleach. “Time to go blond, just like Marilyn.”
She hesitated for a second but then nodded.
“I’m trusting you on this, Grandma.”
“Trust me, dear. I’ve bleached my hair enough times to know that this will give you that perfect sun-kissed look,” I said. We started the process, me carefully applying the bleach and Lily grimacing a bit from the smell.
“Ugh, I can’t believe you did this back in the day,” she groaned, fanning herself.
“Oh, it was a whole experience,” I said with a wink. “Back then, we didn’t have those fancy, quick salons. We had to get creative in our bathrooms. And it smelled terrible. But beauty is pain, right?”
As the bleach sat, we laughed about the other ridiculous dresses in the yearbook. Halfway through, Lily started to question if Marilyn really did smell that bad when she was getting ready. We both agreed that Marilyn probably had a better team of professionals working for her than we did.
Once the bleach was rinsed out, we were both holding our breath. But sadly, Lily’s hair didn’t come out platinum blond. Instead, it was… more of a brassy, goldish shade that could have fooled no one into thinking she was a Monroe look-alike. I, too, was starting to lose confidence a little.
“Grandma, I look like an orange crayon!” she exclaimed in horror.
“Don’t worry, darling. This is just part of the fun. We’ll make it work,” I assured her and went right into the next step: the curls. Using a combination of curlers and my old-school tips—which involved a lot of plastic wrap and wrap it around and pray techniques—we somehow managed to get her hair to resemble Marilyn’s waves, albeit with a bit more bounce than she probably wanted. I exhaled in relief when Lily started to smile again.
Next up was the dress. It was a little too big for her, but with some pinning, tacking, and enthusiastic adjustments, we managed to get it to fit decently. She twirled in the dress, and I swear, she looked like she was about to walk the red carpet.
“Grandma, I feel like a movie star,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
“Well, that’s the point,” I said with a wink. “A little confidence goes a long way. Now, let’s get to the makeup.” We both watched a YouTube tutorial on how to achieve Marilyn’s iconic winged eyeliner and red lips. I was definitely having a moment trying to follow the modern instructions, but after a few shaky attempts at the eyeliner—one eye looked like a butterfly, the other a sad squid—we finally nailed it. When I applied the red lipstick, I remembered how I’d been paranoid about smudging it on prom night.
“I was so worried I’d smear it all over my face,” I told Lily. “But you know what? By the end of the night, I didn’t care anymore. I was too busy having fun.”
“You know what, Grandma? I might not be exactly like Marilyn, but I feel pretty good.” Lily smiled, looking at herself in the mirror.
“You look stunning, my love,” I said, grinning at the final product. I gave her a tight hug. “You’re perfect just the way you are.” As she got ready to leave for her dance, I reminded her one last time:
“Beauty isn’t about looking perfect; It’s about feeling confident and enjoying the experience. Just have fun tonight.”
She hugged me again, and with a smile, she dashed off to her dance. I sat there for a while, holding her picture and reflecting on the day. It was funny. Some things change, but the way we express ourselves through fashion, through laughter, through love… it doesn’t really change at all.
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