Style It Up

Hi Marilyn. My name is Jimmy.

She sat there like a queen, legs crossed in quiet abandonment and one hand placed gracefully over the other on her knee. In conversation, she appeared to negotiate herself with the armed elegance of a vigilant dame, careful with where she placed her trust, and able to decipher the murmurings passed through the mouths of the figures gravitating towards her.

It's so nice to meet you.

You too...And what do you do?

The figures drifted in and out of the scene like indistinguishable blurs, unremarkable in their suppliant gestures, and inscrutable needs. Her eyes received everyone with open acknowledgement, while her lids batted validating affirmations during every pause.

Indeed, it was to those eyes that one granted the most attention. The way they questioned without reproducing words. The way they seemed to blend hungrily with the eye shadow masking her lids. And the way they always seemed to beckon for something more, longing for that which would present itself as the next thrust, the next movement. The next big thing.

Despite this, or because of it, she alerted to each person that approached, laughing her idiosyncratic laugh when the time presented itself. It was a laugh we've all seen and heard before. In the pictures. At parties. Always exultant in its charismatic ebullience, but never representing itself as commonplace. It was always different when released. Always fresh.

I'm a floral designer.

Oh, how nice.

There were hello's to be passed, words to be spoken. Lost sounds from diminutive discourse floated aimlessly into the air, landing apologetically atop smiling heads wherein they nervously awaited their consummate deletion. The world seemed to exist solely for her, then, and those in attendance behaved accordingly.

"Hi Marilyn, my name is...It's so wonderful to see you again."

"Remember me. We saw each other at...You look great!"

"Marilyn, you're so popular! How do you stay so fabulous?"

She recognized the slogans and remained unprovoked. She simply obeyed the laws of grace and allowed herself to play hostess to those who stood before her. Reigning supreme, her face invariably brightened at each compliment, casting a warm and fiery glow that conjoined dominance with surrender. She was glorious; divine. She possessed an ancient wisdom that permitted her to appease those who came to greet her while retaining awareness of who she was among them.

She was free.

Enjoy the rest of your evening.

[Smile]

~,'@

Thursday the 22nd's "Meet Marilyn" event hosted by FGI International was a wonderful opportunity to meet a woman whose name evokes mythic appreciation in Boston social circles. A former event planner whose work transpired in some of the most elite halls, Riseman succeeded in delivering a voluminous commentary on what it means to be a woman who commands attention while keeping those around her profoundly curious...all without announcing a single word. "Meet Marilyn" was one event where Riseman could simply recline in her chair and watch attendees dance lovingly around her, not concerning herself over the logistical details, though as an artist, she could have remarked on a few (the small space; being seated alongside the cheese table).