Holly Lied
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked why I like the movie “Breakfast at Tiffanys” by a guy. Because it’s a lot. To give them credit, I think most guys who ask realize it is a fairly decent movie, or at least not a bad one, but I don’t think very many of them see “what the big deal is.” I’ve always thought I know the answer, but, and this will make more sense soon, I’ve never given it away. But tonight, I think I will. So for every guy who has ever woken up in a girl’s dorm room, seen the ubiquitous poster, and just not “gotten it,” well, here you go.
Holly lied.
Yes, Holly Golightly lied. She lied to Fred. She lied when she told him the reason she goes to Tiffanys is because it is quiet and proud and nothing bad could ever happen to you there - although it is and nothing ever, ever could. Nope, there is another reason why she went to Tiffanys, and she lied. But you can’t really blame her, because if she’d told Fred the truth, he would have walked out the door, never spoke to her again, and the movie would have been over. And so that is why she, and thousands of other girls including myself, lie.
A trip to Tiffany’s requires a very certain kind of feeling. Holly hints at this, but the full explanation is essential to the reason. The feeling which forces you to drive, walk, run to Tiffanys comes from a specific place, an intense loneliness that involves not only being alone, but anger about being alone. A loneliness so deep, coupled with the bitter despair that you will never, ever be un-alone.
So why does this cause me to get in my car and drive 15 miles to Tiffany’s at 11 pm on a Friday night? Because even just a split second looking up at their door, seeing the name bold and silver, or looking in a window and seeing a diamond shine back at me, puts me at instant peace. Tiffany’s is a reminder to me, and I expect girls everywhere, that somewhere in this world, there is a market for true love. Tiffany’s exists not because of high school students who don’t know what else to get their sweethearts and so they opt for a tacky bracelet, nor because of some multi-millionaire who wants to show the world how much money he makes on his lover’s neck. Tiffany’s is by no means cheap, but neither is it particularly extravagant, and a guy looking for either of those can seek out a mall-shop or Harry Winston. Tiffany’s exists for a particular type of man, a man who wants nothing more or less than to show the woman in his life how immensely he loves her. Who knows his words or his actions will never quite be enough, and who wants her to have a constant reminder that no matter if he’s there with her or far away, if he’s called her back or got busy, if he remembered the dry cleaning or forgot it, he loves her with his entire mind, body, heart and soul.
And when a girl with that particular feeling, those mean reds, walks by their windows late at night, whether she’s on Fifth Avenue or Domain Road, she remembers that somewhere in this world, there are men who exist who truly love their girlfriends, fiances, wives, and daughters. There are enough of them to have kept Tiffany’s in business for over 100 years. And it renews her hope that even if she hasn’t met him yet, someday she might meet someone who will truly love her too.
Holly lied. We all lie. But not me, not tonight.
