I'd Sell My Soul To Time Travel Back To The 1920's

As well as my fascination and obsession with the 60's & 70's, I also am slightly in love with the 1920's. I'm not sure what started it off... whether it was old black & white movies, vintage shopping in camden, listening to VERY old jazz or smoking out of a cigarette holder, all I know is I literally would sell my soul to time travel back to Paris in the 1920's. I found this group on facebook... called exactly the same thing. And here's what it says in the description.

- Sitting in a cafe, frequented by artists, poets, writers, artist's model's and political radicals, obviously a place of disrepute among the 'respectable people'. Drinking black coffee, poetry in hand, wearing a beret and looking devestatingly intellectual and dashing.

- Attending parties that involve Absinthe, Opium and local harlots who used to be baronesses.

- Living in a crumbling apartment with a broken window from which you can see the Moulin Rouge, wearing a floppy shirt and writing with a quill on an ancient type-writer about your long lost love whilst sipping red wine for breakfast.

- Moving in artistic cliques that are 90% lesbian where everyone has shagged eachother, and Mati Hari comes and performs naked with snakes on a regular basis.

- Lounging on a chez lounge all day long wearing a silk dress & pearls and laughing cruely at the admirers gathering around offering grapes, wine and undying love. All the while you are saying incredibly witty things that will be jotted down by someone for present posterity.

I want to do this, they called it the Bohemian Revolution as it was the time that artists, poets, models, writers and musicians began to shine and show their rightful place within society. They all drank Absinthe (rather than smoked weed) to expand their minds and called it the green fairy. They wore absolutely beautiful clothing. They laughed at the world. They danced The Charleston. They all slept with one another. They lived in little apartments or hotels that were crumbling to the ground and literally did write with a quill about their long lost loves who had gone off to wars or something. Watching Moulin Rouge makes me so sad, not because of the film, but because I love the era. I would've loved to have been someone like Tolouse De Lautrec and watched and painted everything that I saw happen within the Moulin Rouge. Pictures I'll post in a seperate post.