The first thing Miss Fidditch has to say is “Welcome!” to her eclectic, shabby chic life where she spends her time rambling, considering, discussing, questioning, poking fun, being serious, being herself or whoever shows up on a particular day.
Mark Twain said, “Be yourself is the worst advice you can give to some people.” Miss Fidditch might be one of those people.
She’s an independent spirit who doesn’t mind stirring the pot when the need arises and, as the tagline says, has long been the sworn enemy of the stuffed shirts of the world. Her philosophy is based in the words of E.M. Forster, to wit:
“I believe in aristocracy, though — if that is the right word, and if a democrat may use it. Not an aristocracy of power, based upon rank and influence, but an aristocracy of the sensitive, the considerate and the plucky. Its members are to be found in all nations and classes, and all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding between them when they meet. They represent the true human tradition, the one permanent victory of our queer race over cruelty and chaos. Thousands of them perish in obscurity, a few are great names. They are sensitive for others as well as themselves, they are considerate without being fussy, their pluck is not swankiness but power to endure, and they can take a joke.”
As for the stuffed shirts, I join Bette Midler when she says, “If they can’t take a joke, fuck ’em.”
Now if Miss Fidditch hasn’t put you off completely, come on for the ride. We’ll end up somewhere.