Dorothy Parker’s poem “The Flapper” has sometimes been referred to as “Flappers: A Hate Song,” although we at FLAPPERHOUSE like to tell ourselves that Ms. Parker, whom we think was the greatest, had more of a love-hate thing for Flappers, especially since she was awfully flappy herself.
The Playful flapper here we see,
The fairest of the fair.
She’s not what Grandma used to be, —
You might say, au contraire.
Her girlish ways may make a stir,
Her manners cause a scene,
But there is no more harm in her
Than in a submarine.
She nightly knocks for many a goal
The usual dancing men.
Her speed is great, but her control
Is something else again.
All spotlights focus on her pranks.
All tongues her prowess herald.
For which she well may render thanks
To God and Scott Fitzgerald.
Her golden rule is plain enough –
Just get them young and treat them