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Writer's pictureSara Broughton

The Starlets

Updated: Jul 7, 2023

Five points on a star. Five beautiful and dynamic ladies who called their tightly knit friend group the Starlets and represented the Golden Age of drinking for me. Some were relatives, Mama of course, and Terry, my Aunt by marriage, but all five were Aunties who guided and cared for me in my childhood and modeled drinking for me. How can alcoholic and dedicated, fantastic mother coincide in the same sentence? Contrary to the concept of what society suggests a mother to be, these ladies were Super Moms who held it all together. Alcoholic be may a term stretching it for some, but heavy drinker fits the category for all.


How did the Starlets drink? Out of beautiful cut crystal goblets, or oversized wine glasses with whimsical sayings and artwork painted on the side. Sometimes out of martini or margarita glasses as the occasion deemed. They certainly were not above beer and could be seen sitting sipping out of a cold bottle or frosted glass with toes in the sand by the Atlantic Ocean at a Southern beach. They often drank together, in a circle, around a table, on a breezy deck of a beach house or while dancing. The Starlets drank for Graduations, Birthdays, Weddings, Showers, Engagements, Christmas, St. Patrick’s Day, the end of the school year, 4th of July … you name it.


What did the Starlets drink? Wine, lots of it. Chardonnay, Clos du Bois… nothing too expensive but classy enough. Merlot. Cabernet. Whatever was offered at the nearest wine tasting. Tequila. In a drink or in a shot glass. Vodka. A gathering wasn’t complete without at least one bottle of it. Plain, not fruit flavored, to add to screwdrivers, greyhounds, bloody Mary’s. Cocktails. Of many varieties. They changed with the season, like their outfits. Champagne. There could always be a champagne- worthy event happening or on the horizon.


The Starlets were cooks. Really good ones. If the Starlets were getting together there was sure to be tasty appetizers, desserts, casseroles, dips of all varieties. If they didn’t feel like cooking they shopped. They knew of the best places to order from. The Starlets were nurses, teachers, government employees. A state of Virginia financial manager, a hospital unit administrator, a pre- K special education lead teacher, a PE teacher/ daycare owner, a tap/ ballet/ jazz dance instructor. They did important work that packed a lot into the stream of life.


The Starlets were Jesus- loving southerners. Some Baptist, some Methodist, some Catholic. Not the most dedicated of church ladies but Followers of the Golden Rule. Good people. Honest women that worked hard and were dedicated to their families. They adored their own and one another’s children. They threw fabulous Birthday parties. They gave generous gifts. They were trusted matrons of honor at weddings. They organized showers, retirement parties, post- funeral gatherings, dinners.


I patterned my behavior on theirs. I learned to value love, friendship, and experiences in life above material items. I learned a strong work ethic. I learned how to care for newborns and how to organize a funeral reception. I was brought up in a community. I learned to drink at a young age. At one beach vacation my friend whom I had invited and I were the Starlets’ bartenders. We concocted drinks and gave them fun names like the “Plum Crazy”, which the Starlets thought were hilarious. We were 14.


Alcohol was easily accessible for me and it became a regular part of my weekend life.


I grew up with the expectation that that’s just how life was. I expected to have dear and trusted friends, and I did, but they were not a group like the Starlets. A group of friends like that is certainly a rare and special thing. I grew up associating every event with alcohol. I could always be counted on to bring some wine to a gathering or meet for a drink. I thought that’s just how life was. But it isn’t.


I moved away from my community to Colorado and got married shortly thereafter. I slowly learned that I was missing something. I was not lonely for friends, as I had some and there were certainly many young people out making their way as ski resort employees. I was lonely for the level of mothering and connection that I felt around the Starlets. I was lonely when it was Easter Sunday, snowing and everyone else was working. So I cooked a hen and drank copious amounts of wine. I was lonely on Fri and Sat nights as many friends had restaurant or resort jobs. So I’d get a bottle of vodka and have my own happy hour. I was lonely whenever I was sick and realized that no one was going to care for me like my mother did.


“Poor Me” easily became “Pour Me” another drink. I got used to drinking a lot alone. My mother and sometimes other Starlets would visit me, and vice versa, several times a year. That was always a grand occasion for celebration. Those visits felt few and far between. I didn’t admit to my husband, nor to myself, that I was homesick. Colorado was cool, I really appreciated the natural beauty and the laid back atmosphere, but it wasn’t home. Pretty soon I sought to solve my loneliness problem by bringing more people into my life. I had a baby. And then another. And not too long after that another. I adored them and felt a part of myself complete. However, with young motherhood comes it’s own kind of loneliness; a topic for another chapter.


The Starlets carried on without me. I’d occasionally hear tales of their extravaganzas back home. The years have gone on and they’ve kept on drinking, and for the most part staying classy. The only point of the star that has become really sick, and her neurological condition exacerbated by alcohol, is my Mama. Alcohol took her down. Her "partying" became heavy drinking which became alcoholism which became cognitive impairment which became early onset Alzheimer's disease. It's not such a party anymore. While I learned the bad with good, from the Starlets, today I can choose how their light might shine through me.





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