By Sarah Wallace
Ladies, I hope you will forgive my writing to all of you at once. You see, classic movies are intrinsic to who I am, and you all impacted me in a different way, so I knew I couldn’t possibly pick just one of you.
Dear Jean Peters,
Thank you for looking so fucking gorgeous when lighting your cigarette in the moonlight in Three Coins in the Fountain. Rewinding to watch those few seconds again (and again) was my lightbulb moment. Also, thank you for looking so incredibly beautiful falling onto the bed in Rossano Brazzi’s arms. Did I want to experience something like that? Or did I just want to look like you as I did it? I think we both know the answer.
Dear Gloria deHaven,
Thank you for years of being one of my favorite actresses because the retrospective of that really helped confirm my suspicions. Also, thank you for making a blouse, a blazer, high-waisted shorts, and high heels look glamorous in Summer Stock. That is such a fucking weird ensemble and you make it look classy as hell. Also, thank you for being in a film noir. It’s a crime that you weren’t cast as a femme fatale more often because holy shit would I have believed men doing unthinkable things for your sake.
Dear Ann Miller,
Thank you for letting me pretend that I wanted to be you when I grew up. I never took a single tap dance lesson. But I did watch your dance numbers on repeat and admired your legs. Oh, and on that subject: thank you for wearing skirts that pulled apart and showed off your legs. That was very generous.
Dear Loretta Young,
Thank you for being another aha! moment for me. When Robert Williams described you as one of the boys in Platinum Blonde, I was shook. No one as gorgeous as you could ever be overlooked. That shock really helped to guide me on my way to my bisexuality.
Dear Gina Lollobrigida,
Thank you for Come September. You are an absolute goddess in that movie. Literally everything you wear is stunning, even when it includes a weird little hat. You were another golden retrospective for me when I started to come to terms with my identity.
Dear Katharine Hepburn,
Thank you for looking sexy as fuck in Sylvia Scarlett. I still don’t entirely understand what that movie was trying to be but seeing you masquerading as a boy made me feel a lot of things. I’ll be completely honest here: I had already figured out that I was bi by the time I watched that movie, but you were a fantastic confirmation.
Dear Marlene Dietrich,
Speaking of fantastic confirmations, thank you for being so devastatingly attractive in Morocco. I hope you know how iconic your tuxedo and top hat look is now. This is less along the lines of bisexuality, but I think you should know that you are one of my fashion icons and dressing in masculine vintage outfits gives me a gender euphoria unlike anything else.
Sincerely,
Sarah Wallace
Sarah Wallace lives in Florida in the U.S. with their cat, more books than she has time to read, a large collection of classic movies, and an apartment full of plants that are surviving against all odds. They only read books that end happily.