The mother of a friend of mine once told me I resembled the young and still-brunette Marilyn Monroe (there are more pics at this site. Click the "Norma Jean" link.)
I've also been told I resemble Drew Barrymore (Kerri's mom thought Drew in the Riding in Cars with Boys phase, my own mother in the Ever After phase), Ricki Lake, and Juliette Binoche (the only thing Juliette and I have in common is our colouring. But I think the guy who commented to that effect was hitting on me at the time.)
To this day, though, it's being told I look like young Marilyn that's flattered me the most.
And not just because the compliment made me feel pretty/desirable/whatever.
Marilyn Monroe is and has been a favourite actress of mine for quite some time. How often is it that we're told we resemble those whom we admire?
Yes, I admire Marilyn.
She was talented: she could sing, dance, AND act. The woman had impeccable comedic timing. She was dedicated. She sought Lee Strasberg's tutelage so that she could hone her dramatic craft. And she was intelligent. Yes, intelligent. The woman was a far cry from the lovably ditzy Sugar Kane Kowalczyk (Some Like it Hot) and Lorelei Lee (Gentlemen Prefer Blondes).*
She always seemed so sad, so vulnerable, though. Even at the best of times, her baggage was often all-too visible. For this, though, I feel not admiration, but maternal affection towards her. For a long time, I've felt like I need to save her. From what, I don't know.
How does one save the dead?
Is keeping their memories alive enough?
* = More info on Marilyn's life and career can be found here.