The bowler hat. The frumpy suit. That mustache. I’m talking about none other than The Tramp himself, Charlie Chaplin.

As a child, Chaplin and his mother people watched together and she would imitate the passers-by as a way to entertain him. From her he learned how to express emotions using his hands and face with utmost precision. Through his observations of people, he developed a keen sense of how to read his audience so that he could react to their reactions. It is no wonder that Chaplin was a master of his craft, and he is certainly regarded as one of the greatest entertainers of all time.

I consider myself a fairly funny gal amongst friends and family, and my small desire to be a performer led me to dabble in a few improv classes. However, in a room full of strangers, I found my normally silly self wanting to hide in the corner of the room. Allowing myself to be an inanimate object, make non-sensical sounds, pantomime, and be uninhibited in goofiness was more than I expected and far more difficult than I imagined. Charlie had me fooled – being funny definitely requires technique and practice. Perhaps I shouldn’t quit my day job just yet and stick to what I do best.

This shirt hit my funny bone the moment I picked it off the rack at a vintage shop during my summer trip to Portland. Sometimes I enjoy me a loose fitting boyish shirt, and this retro bowling blouse did just that. Flowers for me? Oh Charlie, you shouldn’t have! This shirt also has an unexpected surprise, but you have to wait for my exit. When I turn my back, there Charlie is, in all his bumbling glory. I prefer myself sans mustache, but I managed to channel Charlie’s look with a mini hat and umbrella cane.

Maybe it was the shirt or the balloons, but things got goofy real fast during this photoshoot. Silence isn’t my strongest suit since I usually talk the talkie, but this was my attempt at putting my improv skills to the test.

Tramp around in heels I often do, yet tramp I certainly am not!