Don't those two words say fairytale more than any others? A certain type of fairytale. They say little girl lost (ruby slippers), they say little girl in danger (red cloak) they say little orphan girl (Snow White with ruby red lips), they say out of control girl (the red shoes). They say menarche and coming of age - girls becoming women, women learning wisdom. What woman doesn't want a beautiful red cloak to match her ruby lips and gem encrusted slippers - who hasn't known the attraction of dancing all night long? I want to be a woman that drinks deep draughts of heady, heavy wine. I want to be a seductive, vibrant, swirling, magnetic force of nature. Smell the blood on the wind, hear the drum beat, sing, stamp my feet.
I'm reading, or rather re-reading, Women Who Run with the Wolves at the moment. Every chapter explores a different aspect of 'wild woman wisdom' and page after page I find myself nodding my head in recognition, usually while drinking a glass of ruby red wine. But I fear it's just another form of escapism - escape from the everyday, humdrum world - to believe that I'm communing with my wildish nature. When I wake from the dream - 8.50am on a Monday morning - I find that life is grey and dreary and that all my ruby redness has to be folded away and hidden under a drab skin.
(thank you Jamie)