1950s

Why is that when you listen to Frank Sintra-ish jazzy versions of 1950's swing finger snapping music, your head bops up and down stupidly. If questioning the obvious is stupid, then i'll say i like it :)
Discovered nice jazzy man called Micheal Bublé, just makes ya wanna say bubbly in a really stupid accent. (hee)
But his stuff ain't original, it actually is Frank Sinatraish George Michealish Van Morrissonish swingy renderings. Its admiral to see a man of his 20s getting intune with his inner "50's music". He ain't ugly either ;).
This kinda music also always reminds me of all the times i didn't read that book by the fire while it was snowing. Some crazy Frost 1950's Christmas Special of my life that i never lived.
Sometimes you wish you could just go back to the 50's, to have that sneaky side glance of the night club singer, while they sound out their sly "sharp to natural" refrain. You know what i mean, i'm sure you know. Its like this world that you find yourself imagining, from pieces of television, magazines and old photographs.This new version is what the 50's should have been in your point of view. No hardships or stupid conventionalities, just the music, the glamour and the black and white world.
Its as if the colour would have been different if you'd lived in that time. You know the fuzzy faded out greens and pinks everywhere.
Hmm the convertable, with white scarf wipping in the air behind, the black cat-eye shades and the kilo of hair spray to give the perfect wavey bob. Pure Bliss.
You also forget that the language was different back then. The slang i mean. No cool's, no weirds, no durr. Just jimmeny crickets and his jumping butter balls. Or maybe that was the 30's. Eitherways, they had really nice posh american accents. You know the kind that make your mouth twist and your one eye raise at every question.
Ahh and the hats. Everyone wore a hat. And the guys with their private eye grey hats just tipped at the right 45° angle. The women with extravaganza dripping on every hairdo.
Betty Sues, Johnny Parkers, Marla Joes and Bobby Martins. Sarah-Sue. (heh) Girls all sitting, white gloved hands on petty coated skirts , waiting for MALE DOMINATION. (I get to say that because its woman angst day or something)
I mean and then Bobby would, with lard-curled hair, give Marla that dashing side smile, making her wish her white gloves weren't so white. (make of that what you will).
Never the less. 1950's aren't real enough. There should be some real people really recreating it. Not some hollywood multiplication of the little i know. Some originality sparking off the warmth of the music and the authentic images. Those that our grandparents enjoyed.
I mean the 1950's did have some authenticity didn't it?