put on a happy face

my Doppelgängers

There’s NO business like SHOW business, there’s NO business I KNOW…

Who are we really? Eh? It feels silly admitting it, but I’m really enjoying Doppelgänger week on Facebook. It asks, and even kind of begins to answer, this question. The self. What you see – or don’t see – when you look in the mirror. I’m not usually into these “memes” and things. I didn’t answer the fifty questions about me last week; I don’t want to announce to the world how I met my partner or when I last cried and why. (I mean, there wouldn’t be much left for job interviews and dinner parties, would there!) I didn’t do the “what colour is your bra” thing (where’s the frisson, anyway? Tops these days are designed so your straps will show, it’s hardly news). Nor do I ever do any of the “93% of people won’t post this as their status” ones (though my sister did one recently about people who have been eaten by dragons; I liked that). Too right, baby.

But Doppelgänger Week – that’s different! It’s like the old (new, urban) parlour games. “Who would play  you in the film of your life?” (I’ve always been told Jennifer Saunders, sometimes Marcia Gay Harden, see above – I tried for Judi Dench but the kids rolled about with laughter: “What! YOU?!”) Or like “Which Friend are you?” (Alas. I’m Janice.)  So Doppelgänger Week, suddenly in a comment thread you have Walt Whitman, Nana Mouskouri, Ethel Merman, and a painting of Jonathan Miller all chatting. You suddenly see how other people maybe see themselves. Or how they’ve been told other people see them. Or just a way in which it’s possible to see them. You see how accurately they see themselves. Some glam it up, some go for humour. One friend of mine posted a (completely inaccurate, btw) picture of Les Dawson in drag. But is it inaccurate?? Or does it say something funny about doubles and selves and what shows on the outside? Who of us is really ourselves, anyway? What is your self, and what does it look like?

There’s something pleasant about having something familiar – someone’s picture – suddenly look different, but kind of the same in some way. The brain, with its penchant for discerning – or creating – pattern (one of the indicators of intelligence, doncha know), immediately goes for the similarities and patterns the new picture onto the mental image of the old one. It’s fun. It’s disjuncture. It’s sideways meaning. It’s like poetry.

Anyway, mine so far. I’ve got two or three more lined up for the rest of the week. And, you know, as they say…

Gray skies are gonna clear up
Put on a happy face
Wipe of the clouds and cheer up
Put on a happy face

Take of the gloomy mask of tragedy
It’s not your style
You’ll look so good that you’ll be glad
That you decided to smile

Today I’m Emma Goldman. But it’s okay. I’ll smile tomorrow.