I Tried the Perfect 1950s Date. Hollywood Left a Few Things Out.

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When I was little, I watched old Hollywood movies with my grandma. She loved makeup, romance, beautiful clothes. I was right there with her. Give me a woman in a lovely outfit, impossibly green grass, and a handsome man on a picnic blanket, and I was convinced: that was the life.

At 47, I caught myself wondering why I had never had that ridiculous, romantic afternoon. I have a husband. We have parks. Surely I could arrange a blanket. So I ordered the clothes, found a picnic basket, and recruited Stephen to be my leading man.

He agreed. This was generous, considering he had not yet seen all the things I was going to make him do.

The movie I wanted to step into.

Love in the Afternoon is part of that old-movie world I wanted to borrow. Audrey Hepburn. Beautiful clothes. The possibility that an ordinary afternoon might turn into a whole romantic production.

In Billy Wilder’s 1957 film, Hepburn plays Ariane, a young cellist whose father is a private detective. Gary Cooper is the wealthy American who gets caught up in her romantic inventions. There are secrets, mistaken impressions, and a young woman trying on a more worldly version of herself.

Watching those movies now, I notice things that little-girl me didn’t. Some of the romance is a lot more complicated than I remembered. But the memory of watching with my grandma—the clothes, the anticipation, that feeling of being swept away—is still very sweet.

Image source and public-domain information

A little detail I love: the American Film Institute’s production notes say the film’s picnic sequence was shot on the grounds of the Château de Vitry, outside Gambais in France. We had Pullen Park in Raleigh. And Amazon. We were working with what we had.

Audrey Hepburn. With an Amazon delivery.

I ordered two sizes of pants because sometimes I’m a small and sometimes I’m a medium, and apparently neither size turns you into Audrey Hepburn. The outfit in my head and the outfit on my body were having two completely different afternoons.

Eventually I made it work. Two red bows in my hair. Red flats on my feet. A husband who had waited until the day of our date to try on his outfit. I was nervous about how I looked, and I knew dressing like this in public might feel awkward for him too. I didn’t want to hand him all my insecurities before we even left the house.

Then he got dressed, and he looked handsome. We packed quickly, hoping to get to the park before the rain. Bread, fruit, basket, blanket. An excellent cast of supporting characters. One very important item did not make it into the basket.

Hollywood forgot the humidity. And the forks.

We found a lovely spot under a tree and set out our little cositas. The blanket looked right. The basket looked right. I was sweating down my back. It was somewhere in the mid-80s, humid, and considerably less graceful than it had looked on television.

Then I discovered that Stephen had not packed a fork. We were going to eat this elegant picnic with our hands. We tried to recreate a few romantic moments, which was also funny because we’re not big public-display-of-affection people. We don’t even usually hold hands. Now here we were, performing romance under a tree.

“The prosciutto is getting sweaty.”

And then I heard a noise. I turned, and a squirrel was inches away from me. Inches. In my mind, it wanted my food, my picnic, possibly my husband. I was not prepared to share any of those things. The squirrel was probably just being a squirrel. I was having a much bigger experience.

We laughed. We flirted badly. Opening the champagne became its own event. Somewhere in there, the effort to look like a movie started turning into something much more familiar: the two of us being ridiculous together.

Then we went on the choo-choo train.

We’d been to Pullen Park with our kids before. This time, I got to sit on the little train and just take it all in. My husband was beside me, dressed like that, and I felt like a little girl. I was noticing things I hadn’t noticed on those other visits. I was having the time of my life.

Then came the merry-go-round. The colors, the music, my own horsey. I felt like a princess. Stephen was suddenly my boyfriend again, and yes, there was even some hand-holding. Apparently we can do that.

There was also a train wagon where I made him act out a dramatic goodbye. I was leaving. He was supposed to chase me. Naturally, we turned it into a ridiculous pretend affair. This is what happens when you hire your husband as your leading man and give him room to improvise.

Afterward, we got hot dogs and Coke, and I decided we should roll around on the grass. Immediately after eating. At 47. I nearly made myself sick, then made Stephen do it too because I wasn’t going through that alone. A beautiful romantic afternoon, everyone.

Two things I’d bring again.

The outfit required negotiation. These two things earned their place. If you want a little of the look, here are the basket and red shoes from our day.

The picnic basket with blanket

This was the part of the picture that worked right away: a proper picnic basket and a blanket to spread out in the park. It helped an ordinary outing feel like an occasion. Just check what you’ve packed before you leave. A very cute basket cannot remind your husband about forks.

See the picnic basket with blanket on Amazon

The red flats that surprised me

I ordered the DREAM PAIRS red flats for the look and did not expect much from the comfort. Then I put them on and couldn’t get over how comfortable they felt. They were my happy little surprise of the day, and they went with the red bows. That was my experience wearing them around the park; choose the size and color that work for you.

See the DREAM PAIRS red flats on Amazon

Borrow the afternoon. Remember the forks.

You don’t need a whole costume to try this. Pick one little thing that makes the day feel special. Bring someone who will be silly with you. If I were packing for another attempt, this would be my list:

• Forks. Napkins. Whatever you need to actually eat the food you brought.
• A way to keep your food and drinks cool. Sweaty prosciutto is not the mood.
• Shoes you can walk in, and clothes you can sit on the grass in.
• A weather check and a look at the park’s current ride schedule.
• Room for the day to go off-script. That was the best part of ours.

Our afternoon was at Pullen Park in Raleigh, North Carolina. If you’re nearby, check the City of Raleigh’s Pullen Park page for current hours, ride information, and visitor details before you go.

A note about the park’s past

I mention the park’s history in the video, and one detail deserves a correction here. According to the City of Raleigh’s history of John Chavis Memorial Park, four young Black protesters and two white friends entered Pullen’s pool in 1962. The city responded by closing both the Pullen and Chavis pools. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 led to the integration of Raleigh’s public facilities. The beautiful afternoon we enjoyed belongs alongside that history, too.

Dear eight-year-old Veronica.

At the end of the day, I knew what I wanted to tell that little girl watching movies with her grandma.

Dear Veronica, you’re only eight years old. What are you doing, girl? You’re way too young to be dreaming about romantic picnics in the park. Kiss Grandma, go outside, and play with your friends.

And just know this: you’re going to have to kiss a few frogs first. Some nasty ones. But one day you’ll meet your Prince Charming, and he’ll be just as ridiculous and goofy as you are.

“And yes, you’ll get your picnic in the park. It won’t look exactly like the movies. It’ll be yours, and it’ll be beautiful.”

Love, Veronica in her 40s.

What’s one little scene you’ve always wanted to step into?

A movie moment, a place, a silly afternoon you keep putting off. Tell me in the video comments. I would love to know.