Rose Smith: Nice girls don’t let men kiss them until after they’re engaged. Men don’t want the bloom rubbed off.
Esther Smith: Personally, I think I have too much bloom. Maybe that’s the trouble with me.
–Meet Me In St. Louis
As a modern woman, the idea of a girl coming into bloom is off-putting. Typically it’s all about sexual maturity combined with external innocence and it’s just a little squicky. The theory,of course, being that men come into their prime and stay there for decades while young women bloom young and fade quickly. It’s an old fashioned idea. I don’t hear the term used anymore, but I’m not sure we’ve stopped using the theory. Models are “too old” when they’re barely in their twenties, but Brad Pitt and George Clooney are still considered among the sexiest men alive well into their forties.
I had much more in common with Esther than with Rose as a teen. An excess of bloom and no one to rub it off. I definitely was not waiting for a permanent relationship to kiss someone. I would have been more than willing to have some bloom erased. Where were all the horny young men that parents are always warning girls about? They must have been on another street. I hear Deer Horn Road was a seething cauldron of teen lust, but not my corner of Glacier Drive!
Maybe the street name had an ardor-cooling effect?
I’ve probably told enough tales of my teen years for someone to deduce that I was not exactly untouched, but at the time it felt like there was never anyone around once I really started getting my bloom on.
Luckily, I eventually found plenty of young men who were more than willing to help me rub off my excess bloom. It’s a wonder I have any left at all. Uh, do I? It’s probably not possible for a fifty year old to have bloom left, except artificially. I am sure I have many other fine qualities without a fine blooming whatever.
In literature, of course, a fine blooming young girl is often a target. Tess Durbeyfield being the perfect example of young woman as victim. In other books, events might cause a lovely young woman to loose her bloom prematurely and damage her prospects in life, like gentle Anne Elliot in Persuasion. She gets her bloom back, and her man. Yep. In that order. Tess…well…a couple of men rub all of her bloom way the hell off and she ends up at the gallows. I’m summarizing a bit. You should probably read the books.
My bloom isn’t ever coming back, I’m reconciled to it.
I still like boys to try and rub it off though.
Is that so wrong?