Simon/e

Marlene Dietrich was a female icon of the 1930s through 1950s, who spent most of her career performing. She had many small acting roles in her early career, until she began thriving off of her performance in The Blue Angel. Marlene became a famous actress, starring in many Hollywood roles. Eventually, she travelled to Europe as a part of the USO (United Service Organization) performing to the frontliners of World War 2. She is known as a strong female icon due to her courage to perform so closely to the front lines, as well as her statement on female fashion, and the role of females overall. She expressed herself uniquely, confidently striding across the stage confidently in jeans, and a top hat. “I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, and not for men.” She completely rewrote the female fashion statement, becoming an idol to women, and inspiring them to feel comfortable and confident in whatever they wanted to wear. She normalized pants for women, showing comfort and beauty in anything from a pantsuit to a three- piece men’s tuxedo.

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Watching Marlene Dietrich perform for the first time was enlightening. A famous female icon, German singer, actress, in our camp. A woman, singing and smiling as she floated across the makeshift stage, all of us men huddled around the fire humming along. Pretending we weren’t close to the frontlines in Rouen, France during 1945, dancing and clapping the night away as we clung to Marlene for hope, for joy, for music. Something about that woman stood out to me. She was different from the other celebrities that have volunteered with the USO ( United Service Organization) like the beautiful Andrews sisters, or the beaming Joan Crawford, who connected with her audience flawlessly. 

Marlene Dietrich stood up there playing music in her trousers. Some say the men's clothes are to make a statement, but the men around me are snickering. “Wish they brought us someone in tighter clothing tonight” Andre mumbled beside me, causing the other men to chuckle. I shook my head, ignoring them, fascinated by the way this woman held herself on the stage. Fascinated by the way she danced around in her men’s khaki pants, the top hat, with such grace and confidence that I was reminded of someone. My daughter, Simone. 

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Before Papa left for war, he always sat with Mama on the couch, clapping as I performed for them. Ma is always on me about how I should stop wearing Papa’s clothes. “Simone, they’re too big for you, there’s a nice dress hanging in your closet, I haven’t seen my little girl in a dress since Christmas.” But Papa would just smile, winking as he’d slip me a belt to hold up the three- times- too- big trousers. “Annie, ma cherie” my papa would say as the music faded. “Let your daughter wear what she wants! She is after all, tonight’s entertainer!” I’d giggle, saying “Merci, thank you very much!” Taking Papa’s top hat off my head, bowing and offering it to the crowd, beaming at my Ma as she reluctantly reached into her pocket to fetch me a few coins. 

I’m Simone, and I’m 13 years old. Papa always said that I was wise for my age, and that some day I’d make a real difference for lots of people. Mama wonders why I want to wear some old jeans instead of my pretty new lace dress. Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. Dresses, long hair, bows- none of it really feels like me. If I had it my way, I’d have been born a boy. I’d be 13 year old Simon, a handsome young man, entertaining my parents for some spare coins before dinner. No- I’m just Simone. The young, “pretty” Simone, just starting to feel more curves than she’s comfortable with. Mama says the dress would look very becoming on me, That now that I’m a teenager, it would shape my body in just the right places. But still, for now, that dress can stay in the wardrobe. 

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We all stood and applauded Marlene after she completed her performance. The chatter rose in the crowd, as she began greeting us one by one. She thanked each of us for our service, kindly smiling and nodding. Andre tapped me on the shoulder. “Okay, but when she played that rusty saw like it was a guitar!” He laughed, swigging the last of  his beer and tying his coat up, heading off to bed. “Too bad she’s not more of a woman, if you know what I mean.” I rolled my eyes, standing up as well. “I think it’s nice,” I responded. “Everyone’s got their own style, Marlene as well.”  Andre shrugged his shoulders softly. “ Well I wish she had less of a style like an old man, and more like a Greek Goddess. The frontlines are surely in need of-” Andre was suddenly interrupted by a female voice, making both of us jump. “Pardon me, monsieurs, but I prefer the term modern to old man.” Marlene sounded annoyed, but had a calm smile on her face. “ I’m Armand,” I said, extending my hand to shake hers. “Listen, I personally love your style, you remind me of my daughter, whom I miss greatly.” Andre slipped away, but I barely noticed his absence. Marlene and I talked about Simone for a long time, as I told stories of her endless entertainment. “One time, she came out of the bedroom in a button up shirt, and a tie, with her hair all tucked under a hat. Mama about had a heart attack.” Marlene laughed and smiled, saying that each little girl needs to be reminded that they shouldn’t dress for other people. “Please tell your daughter hello for me, Armand.” Marlene said smiling. “ And tell her that trousers are much more comfortable anyway.” I smiled and nodded, as Marlene and I parted ways. I headed back to my tent, still grinning, thinking of little Simone in her top hat. 

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Papa has been off at war for five months now. Mama and I are doing well, but the house is much quieter these days. I walked into the kitchen for breakfast, dressed for the day in Papa’s old suspenders, with one of my blouses underneath, paired with some old loose jeans. “Simone darling, I really wish you would stop dressing like that, you’re not a boy.” I rolled my eyes, plopping down at the table, picking up my fork and stabbing the pancake on my plate. I opened a letter from Papa, reading about his latest endeavors. “Mama, I feel better like this. It’s not fair. How come every girl has to wear the same thing every single day? Tight skirts and itchy blouses, but boys can wear whatever they want. I wish I were a boy, Mama. Then I could walk outside with a smile on my face, comfortable and confident, with nobody trying to look at my curves from behind. Look Mama- even Papa says, right here: 

This entertainer came to camp last week, and reminded me of you Simone, she wore silly top hats and baggy clothes, but walked across that stage with such  grace and confidence, just wanting to be herself. After the performance, I told her about you, and you know what she said? “Please tell Simone hello for me, and tell her not to be afraid to be herself. Also let her know that trousers are MUCH more comfortable than any itchy lace dress could ever be.” See Simone, Marlene was right, You have to be you, no matter what that is. Sending my love to you and Mama. - Papa.

Mama sighed, looking at her coffee mug on the table. “Simone, we’re ladies. You won’t find a nice husband if you don’t act with some proper manners. You need to go change before school.” I hate when Mama talks about “being a proper lady”. I slammed my fist on the table. “Mama- you don’t get it! I don’t want lovely hats and nice husbands and lace dresses. I want… to be me! Papa would understand, he would help me be me.” I pushed my chair back, leaving the room. Heading into the bathroom, I angrily grabbed a pair of scissors. Not even stopping to think about it, I started chopping all of my long, curly blonde hair off, dropping it in chunks into the sink. 

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Dear Armand, it’s me, Annie. We’ve received your letters. Due to the invasions, we weren’t able to respond, but we’ve relocated and are safe now. I hope you are well, mon amour. A lot has changed since the last letter from months ago. For starters, we are now sheltering in Northern Italy, with your parents. I also have to correct you. Our child doesn’t go by Simone anymore, mon cheri. It was difficult at first, but I’ve never seen… him happier than he is now. He is so comfortable in his skin, and with his short hair he looks just like you. I know it was hard for me to understand at first, but I’ve never seen him this happy. Thank you for always supporting him darling. Also, thanks to you, he has found every clipping possible of this Marlene Dietrich, some American actress he won’t stop talking about. We better watch out darling, our son may flee to America to become a Hollywood entertainer. Sending love from me and Simon. - Annie

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“Every human being is in need of talking to somebody.”

• Marlene Dietrich