In college, I had an alter ego. Her name was Gigi Perone. Gigi had a penchant for funky shoes and dancing on pool tables until a security officer would lift her gently back down to the dance floor. She would laugh, tossing the long strands of her wig over her bare shoulders and continue her evening unfazed. It was Gigi who joined Casa Samba and danced for seven miles from City Park to the Superdome during an Endymion Parade. She then danced for a few more hours at a local bar in her bare feet. It was Gigi who served the Prince of Monaco a drink in her role as cocktail waitress during a private party for the Rolling Stone's Voodoo Lounge Tour through New Orleans. It was definitively Gigi who later made out with a member of the Prince's security detail.
As the years drifted from college to working life to marriage and motherhood, evidence of Gigi disappeared. So did her flair for the dramatics and her willingness to take chances. Writing also slipped away. I hadn't written anything except emails since a one-act play in 2003.
Why am I writing again? Why is Gigi again in my thoughts?
Judy Ann Pace, one of my oldest and closest friends died. She ceased to exist one day.
During the days leading up to her funeral, people asked about Gigi and my writing. I had to tell them that those things had to cease to exist as well.
While, I will miss my friend for the rest of my days, there is something I can revive. I decided to write again, to revive the spirit of Gigi Perone.
Now, as a mom and a wife, I will not be dancing on tables in bars or making out with strangers. However, I have started to write again. Welcome to my journey.
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