1954 counts as Vivíen's present-day reality.

Stella: Yeah, I can hear you now. Get out of my life, you perfectly wonderful woman - you're too good for me. Look, Mr. Jefferies, I'm not an educated woman, but I can tell you one thing: when a man and a woman see each other and like each other, they ought to come together - wham!- like a couple of taxis on Broadway, not sit around analyzing each other like two specimens in a bottle.

Jeff: There's an intelligent way to approach marriage.

Stella: Intelligence! Nothing has caused the human race so much trouble as intelligence. Hah! Modern marriage!

Jeff: Now, we've progressed emotionally.

Stella: Baloney! Once, it was see somebody, get excited, get married. Now, it's read a lot of books, fence with a lot of four-syllable words, psychoanalyze each other until you can't tell the difference between a petting party and a civil service exam.

Jeff: People have different emotional levels.

Stella: When I married Miles, we were both a couple of maladjusted misfits. We are still maladjusted misfits, and we have loved every minute of it.

Jeff: Well, that's fine, Stella. Now would you fix me a sandwich please?

Stella: Yes, I will. And I'll spread a little common sense on the bread.

I was born in the wrong era. Hitchcock speaks my language. Thanks Rear Window.