Why I was born in the wrong era

As a car alarm wails outside my window, I can't help but think that I dwell in my own little world sometimes. It's a madhouse, a Victorian, Bohemian, retro-fied existence that bears little resemblance to what is outside. I go out with beer drinkers and order kir royales. I collect cameos and fantasize about high-waisted skirts and blouses with ruffled collars. I wish I had a shiny brass old-fashioned key to open the door to my apartment. I love red/black roses and old storybooks. I am Eloise meets Audrey Hepburn meets Jane Eyre meets Jessica Mitford meets Joan Jett meets Sara Crewe meets June Carter meets Lucy Westenra in Dracula...and I long to set my dinner table like this:I would decorate every surface with Black Magic roses accessorized with hanging Swarovski crystals.I would dress like Natalka Burian, who owns the East Village vintage store/bar "The Hanger" and was last month's "Lucky Girl" in Lucky Magazine. I can't find any pictures of her to post here, but she resembles Zooey Deschanel and reminds me (from what I've read) of a grown-up Eloise. Oh, and the names of the cocktails served at her bar include the "Jackie O," the "Halston," and the "Hepburn." And maybe I would add this fantastic necklace by glitteryblue made out of old watchworks.Or this one, to remind me that no, no, no, I must never give up. My life was made to be a mad tea party with meaning and cuddles under lots of blankets and kind words and good books and true people, and that is that.