Monthly Archives: August 2009

My small feet

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Will never, ever fit into these fascinating, gorgeous Gucci Men’s boots. Not that I could afford them, anyway. I can’t deny, though, my heart’s a little broken. Why is it that I’ve mostly been admiring men’s shoes lately, especially when my dear little feet have nary a chance of fitting into them? Prancing around the city in heels just doesn’t usually work for me. It’s odd because while these shoes are so pristine and shiny….they sort of remind me of the oily stickers I coveted in my childhood sticker collection phase.

Of those creepy, yet oddly beautiful opalescent effect of nasty oil in puddles

(via)

Of the city’s grunge.. colors layered upon one another with dirt and grime and the rust of age.

Yes, these shoes would fit in quite nicely here among the duality of grunge and glitz of the city.

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Untitled

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I’m liking this brooch by Tatty Devine for the Tate museum store.

It reminds me of a short story I wrote in my senior year of high school called Lint about a young girl, Lynn, who’s feeling lost and alone and useless since her father passed away. She spends her time watching the world pass by from the anonymity of her apartment window feeling like a speck of lint floating aimlessly in the air, bothersome to anyplace she lands. After a series of events she finds her self face to face with a young woman who she’s noticed whilst sitting at her window. The woman, Arianna, who Lynn finds out is an artist living in a colorfully vibrant home, shows the young girl kindness and friendship. Arianna eventually takes Lynn back to her studio where upon she reveals that she’s been painting the young girl, sitting at her window up above. Lynn is incredibly touched seeing herself in this new light, and though the painting is unfinished she can see the beauty it could become. She starts to see herself that way, too – as an unfinished painting – and doesn’t feel quite so lost.

Perhaps the story is a little cheesy (?), if so, forgive my 17 year old self; but it’s around the time I started thinking of the “self” as a possibly a piece of art, and subsequently life (as the top of my page states). I think it’s nice to think of it that way. Everything just a piece of the puzzle, a swab of paint on the canvas. Individually, they recall the hurt and the joy, the peaceful moments and the tense, the love and the loss…but together, when you step back and look at them all splattered there, it has this sort of beauty, the pieces of your life. When you step back from being “inside” the picture, the moment, you can see this better… see that even a tough time is just a fraction of the whole, that sometimes you can build something wonderful atop that toughness, the chaos. And it allows you to feel a little calm from within the storm.

And that’s why I like this brooch. Because we should always think of ourselves as works in progress. There’s always someplace to go.

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Quite frankly, giddy (color lover’s delight)

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I stumbled upon this photo over on Poppytalk earlier this afternoon and immediately swooned. If you’re a regular reader you may have a noticed a slight occasional fixation upon staircases. It might stem from my childhood in one-floor Florida where I never lived anywhere with stairs, and I’d watch all those tv shows or movies where ladies would dash up the stairs and slowly swoosh down in pretty dresses to a dramatic effect. And I always, always wanted to do that. Fights with my parents would be soooo much more dramatic if I could storm angrily up the stairs, like DJ Tanner of Full House (or any other show or movie with teenagers of the era). I fancied having guests show up and me calling down the stairs “just a moment!” and then I’d arrive at the top of the stairs in my pretty dress and swoosh my way on down. It seemed so grand in the movies.

Oh, childhood.

And then, I grew up and I moved up north for college where most places had stairs and then to NYC where EVERYPLACE has stairs. Turns out, not always so much fun (six floor walk-ups, *groan*). I think lovely staircases would make the many trips up and down a wee bit more enjoyable. Don’t you think? And Mr. Horst Gläsker did an absolutely lovely job of that in his Holsteiner stairs in Wuppertal. There are 112 steps dressed up in acrylic paint if you would believe it!

Personally, in my imagination those steps lead up to…

We could stage some elaborate Busby Berkeley-esque old school musical routine up them and into this gorgeous square. It would be swell and colorific, don’t you think? I’m fairly certain they don’t, in fact, lead here; but, with the magic of film we sure could make it look that way, right?! Right. Just imagine how gorgeous it would be to have a bird’s eye view to a slew of dancers atop….

Granted, it’s called “Crime Scene Paderborn”, and you can indeed see the body outlines from above… but it’s cheerfully macabre, pixelistic, typographically interesting (i have no idea what the letters stand for or spell) and overall quite thoroughly fabulous in my humble opinion. In regards to both the stairs and this square, I think part of what attracts me so, is the juxtaposition of that madcap crazy color with the otherwise sedate and oldschool style and color scheme of the rest of its surroundings. It so defiantly stands out, and yet manages to look “right”. It’s a surprising and delightful twist.

Now, have a listen to Seu Jorge‘s awesome Portuguese acoustic rendition of Bowie’s Life on Mar’s:

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Shedding Layers

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In case you didn’t already know, I happen to love (love, love) the show So You Think You Can Dance. As someone who used to dance for hours pretty much everyday, it’s practically a requirement. Dance is one of my passions, and a passion that is in part fuel for one of my other great loves which is clothing and therefore fashion/costume design (which I have a degree in).You see, I sort of like to live (in theory) as though we are always dancing, and your clothes should move with you and add to your “character”. Like in acting, costumes play a huge role in defining characters/mood/etc in a piece of dance. Sometimes the costume doesn’t just define the character but becomes a part of the dance, a metaphor, too, such as in a particular piece danced by Jeanine Mason and Kayla Radomski and choreographed by Mia Michaels in the So You Think You Can Dance finale on Wednesday evening.

The piece was meant to chronicle the transformative process the contestants of the show go through – that we all go through while making our way through our lives: working hard, shedding our layers, making our way to our “true selves”. The girls start stage left and make their way to the right, beginning in a frothy dress of many layers that they shed one by one like weight off their back until they’re free.










While there were many (many, many) wonderful dances of the show (and out there in the world), I was immediately transfixed, admittedly, by the costumes in this piece. I loved the big colorful frothy dress and they way all of its colored layers moved, and was delighted with every single incarnation of the costume as it’s layers were removed. Each worked and moved so well together. Bashfully, I admit that while the dance was beautiful I spent in inordinate amount of time watching the the dress. I’m a nerd like that, in case you haven’t been able to tell by how many times I had to watch the video to get decent screen captures. (since I can’t find it on youtube watch it here)

I guess I just relate really well to the metaphor of the dance, and the literal interpretation of shedding layers of clothes as shedding the layers of oneself. I’m reminded of my younger years when I was always, always dressed eccentrically in a cacophony of bright colors. I wanted to be sure that I stood out. I had too. I would feel too naked and anonymous and “not me” if I were out in jeans and a tank top. It felt wrong. And slowly, slowly over the years I’ve become ok with myself enough that, while I still rock my sometimes eccentric style, I am actually able to go out in jeans and a tank top or incredibly simple anonymous dress. I’m ok with being simpler, now. And somehow, I’ve found, people can still see “me” (which I can’t lie, I was a little surprised about).

Sorry for the posting pokyness, loves. Been shedding some (metaphorical) layers. I’m working, however, on getting back on the posting train. ;)

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