I KNOW it must be a load of mumbo jumbo. I know that groups of stars, that aren’t even groups of stars, that have been artificially contrived into patterns by the ancients because they look vaguely like crabs or rams cannot sensibly have an influence on us. And yet, I find myself looking at the invite. “Come to a Scorpio party”. “But I’m not a Scorpio,” I say to Elena. “I know,” she says mysteriously. “But he is,” she says, pointing to ’im indoors. “How do you know?” “It’s not hard,” she says knowingly, “Intense, passionate, possessive, competitive.” “Hmmm…” I look at this woman, with her dark flashing eyes and raven black hair. The word witch comes to mind.
“So what am I?” “Oh,” she says, “red headed, curly… definitely… a fire sign…” I nod, like one of those people at a medium’s meeting when they say, “Does anyone here know a John?” She stares at me, “And, of course, you are impulsive… full of ideas, adventurous.” Flattered, I smile. “Easily pleased…” she continues. “Aries,” she pronounces. “That’s amazing,” I say, and once more I am thrown into wondering how this old black magic works, so loved by Greeks, pre-dating Christianity.
Later that day I do a minor experiment. I email my husband descriptions of our family’s birth signs, with the signs blacked out. “Put the words to the person,” I write. “No brainer,” comes back the answer, with everyone accurate.
So what is happening here? Are we really born to our destiny by the movement of the stars or is it some kind of horrible horoscope conditioning, where from an early age we are told that Cancers are indecisive, and Leos are leaders and Virgos are fastidious. Do we live up to our labels?
I try and remember the first time I was told my star sign: I was very young. In fact, I still have the chart, cast as a christening present by a particularly psychic aunt. I must have had my ‘Arianess’ reinforced from a very early age, used as an excuse for my dirty knees and tomboy behaviour, my love of bonfires and my dislike of water. No mention that I was brought up by a dangerous part of the river and that cold autumn days were made more fun when we set light to the leaves at the garden’s end. No mention that most children would be adventurous if encouraged.
The Scorpio party is on Saturday night at Amethyst Art Bar in Athens, two hundred of them. They say it will be dangerous. They say it will be sexy. They have a love of dark interiors and devil’s red. It’s no wonder Halloween falls in their birth sign.
“You know it’s incredible,” I say to my bloke. “Elena accurately knew both of our astrological signs.” “Yeah…” he replies, “I told her,” “Ha! The cheat.” Later, I look up more Scorpio traits. ‘Can be deceptive,’ it says… but then, of course, it’s her party.
