Damn It Feels Good to Be a Bad Guy
One writer’s answer to last week’s prompt: if you could be any movie villain, who would you be?
There is a pile of opened mail sitting on my counter that I add to almost daily. With calligraphy printed on stiff paper, these envelopes stand out from the junk mail and coupons that get tossed in the trash. ‘Tis the season for invitations to bridal showers, baptisms and weddings to start rolling in.
For what it’s worth, I’ve always loved receiving snail mail. But if I were Maleficent, there’d be no need for these crisp envelopes and pretty notecards because I’d be the baddest party crasher there ever was.
Before Angelina Jolie wore her inimitable horns, the Disney cartoon character walked the line between impossibly elegant and downright devilish when she busted into Princess Aurora’s christening. The fairies started bumbling about the fact that she wasn’t invited, but Maleficent was too busy owning the room. A wallflower, she was not. This was just one of the many reasons why the Sleeping Beauty villain was my kind of childhood character (besides her transfixing voice and dramatic, all-black uniform).
Though I wouldn’t go so far as to compare myself to this scene’s silent guest of honor – relax, I know she’s a baby – I’ve never been one to make a striking entrance. Unless I was performing a choreographed dance routine, I left center stage to the more outgoing people in the room. Truth be told, I’ve even scoffed at attention-seekers in the past. But if Instagram and office culture have taught me anything, it’s that there’s no one better to sell yourself than you. That’s why I don’t think it’d hurt to have a little more Maleficent in me. Regardless of her audience, she speaks up, out and commands attention.
For her, rules like “choose a statement eye or lip” simply don’t apply. She like, hell, match your nails to your lipstick, too! Being Maleficent means embracing all things theatrical, including a high-collared cloak to swing around upon greeting people. It lets them know: I’m in charge.
I’d rather channel this troublemaker and leave perfect hair and sleeping serenity to the Princess Auroras of the world. To those BFFs who sent the lovely invites, I’ll still be there, and I promise not to bring a curse or a raven…
But that cape. I may come wearing a cape.
Collage by Emily Zirimis.