| non-stop jet service to the promised land of glamour |
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[20 Apr 2012|12:07pm] |
OK, I know at this point Good Reads is only slightly less obsolete than FRIENDSTER, but if you're still using it, FRIEND ME! I put the FUN in "reading is fundamental," or possibly just the MENTAL.
I have a new favorite internet timekiller: looking for photos of thrift store volunteers/employees on google image search. I wish there was a coffee table book of these pictures, because these women know how to dress.
Thrift store customers can be equally stylish. This lady totally reminds me of one of my favorite regulars I see at the Salvation Army where I buy most of my clothes: she always wears this amazing leopard print jacket with a purple or lime green chiffon scarf tied around her hair.
The ultimate example of thrift store proprietress style is probably the late Edith Massey of Edith's Shopping Bag.
I wish I could travel back in time and go here. I know, it's wicked shallow to want to go to shopping in the past when you could like, try to stop wars and assassinations and stuff. I have a horrible feeling that people from THE FUTURE!!!! are already doing this, though, because once a woman who I think might have been me in 25 years beat me to a really awesome leopard print shirt. I was bummed until I realized that if that lady was me it was my shirt already anyway. Pretty mystical!
My DREAM OF DREAMS is to someday own my own thrift store, but having talked to volunteers and employees of thrift stores I shop at, it involves a lot more crusty bloodstained underwear and a lot less deadstock vintage twinsets and costume jewelry than I had imagined.
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[27 Mar 2012|01:58pm] |
Dear Livejournal,
I thought I would never be writing you again. We got a new firewall router at work and for a long time I couldn't log in and I didn't exactly want to call my tech guy and say, "HEY DON I CAN'T LOG INTO MY LIVEJOURNAL HELP A BITCH OUT!"
As winter melts into spring I always find myself in a fashion quandary because the items that really make my overall look have to be retired as soon as the weather warms up: colored tights, berets, fussy old lady coats with pins, turtleneck sweaters, boots. All of these things need to go to the back of the closet when the thermometer rises, and it makes me feel cranky and uncomfortable because suddenly I feel under-dressed, and even worse, BORING!
Luckily because the fashion industry never procrastinates, I can enjoy the opulent ridiculousness of the fall/winter 2012 collections already. I am so feeling this decadent grandma's house aesthetic that's happening in fall/winter collections. I don't think I would actually wear any of this stuff because a) I can't afford it and b) even if I could what looks chic on a fashion model usually makes ordinary women look like crazy lady on the bus. But I sure like looking at this stuff.
These are details of pieces from CREATURES OF THE WIND's fall/winter 2012 collection (I love that name because it sounds like a George Kuchar movie), and again, I don't think I could carry off ANY OF THIS STUFF, but I love that my bedroom is in vogue. Tattered thrift store quilts, chenille bedspreads with peacocks on them, and embroidered doilies are suddenly FASHION.
I totally ripped these pictures off from THE STYLE ROOKIE. Please don't call the internet cops on me.
I am also feeling Dolce & Gabbana's f/w 2012 collection for its decadent 75 year old lady on the town aesthetic. I just wish they had real live old ladies modeling this stuff and not the usual 6'1" Eastern European teenagers who dominate the runway.
Baroque Grandma Chic is happening. GET READY.
As usual I am not really feeling the summer colors, but some people can WORK IT:
Just so this isn't all about fashion, I heard "Vampire" by Destroy All Monsters in the documentary Jack Smith and the Destruction of Atlantis and really liked the low-fi sound and super eerie movie show poetry written in 8th period study hall type lyrics. I immediately got their greatest hits CD and discovered that the actual songs were spread out over 3 discs of avant garde noise rock experiments. Hi, who wants to listen to a five minute jam of distorted feedback and an old trumpet? I can appreciate that this stuff was a petulant response to crummy pop music of the mid to late 70s, but just give me Niagara's vocals and some guitar and drums, please. I made a mix CD of all the vocal cuts while I was doing laundry at my parents house on Sunday and when my father said, "What is this junk, anyway?" I replied feebly, "it's, you know, ART ROCK. Like ART."
In conclusion: The new DARK SHADOWS movie looks totally bogus and Glenn Danzig uses the same brand of cat litter my cats prefer. PEACE OUT!
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| 2012 reading list |
[01 Jan 2012|02:50pm] |
The following is a list of books I'd like to read this year. Lately I've been fascinated by books that were super popular and best selling, but have sort of become lost in the mists of time because they weren't capital C classics. Unfortunately most of these books have vanished from public libraries because they no longer speak to people's interests, and I don't want to get into one of my cycles of buying a bunch of books online and then being stuck with them because I feel like a spendthrift when I buy something online and then want to get rid of it. Hopefully my usual mixture of used book sale and thrift store shopping will provide.
THE EGG AND I by Betty MacDonald, because I have been into keeping chickens as a lifestyle since I saw that crazy documentary about chickens.
UP THE DOWN STAIRCASE by Bel Kaufman--I guess this is the grandmother of all young idealistic teacher goes to the big bad city books, but it's told in correspondence and I LOVE books written in letters, so I'm going to tackle it even though books about young idealistic teachers going to the big bad city always make me squirm.
DV by Diana Vreeland--The bestselling autobiography of the legendary doyenne of fashion. I actually read this before, but since it's basically one of those stream of consciousness rant type autobiographies, it's really...challenging. But I'm more into fashion history than I was when I first read it, so maybe it will resonate with me more now. Bonus, I have a copy already, so I don't have to hunt it down!
THE GIRL WHO HAD EVERYTHING by Dorian Leigh--This is a I FOUND JESUS autobiography, and those things can be painful, but Dorian Leigh was Revlon's Fire and Ice girl back in the 50s, so I still want to read this. For people who don't care about makeup, Fire and Ice is a shade of lipstick. I wear it sometimes even though it's kind of Baby Jane Hudson, but it's OK because Kevyn Aucoin (RIP) said if red lipstick makes you feel good you should wear it, regardless of what anyone says.
Someday I must write about Kevyn Aucoin's totally crazy coffee table book FACE FORWARD.
PENNY CANDY, THE SNAKE HAS ALL THE BEST LINES, and HOW I GOT TO BE PERFECT by Jean Kerr--I read Please Don't Eat the Daisies before Thanksgiving and now I want to read all her books even though a lot of her essays are totally over my head because I don't know much about American theater circa 1959. I don't know much about American theater, PERIOD, actually.
Last year I tried to read all the original Nancy Drew mystery stories but I crashed and burned around volume 27 and I am not ready to go back to Drewville yet. When Carolyn Keene is on, she's on (yeah, I know she's totally not a real person), but when she's phoning it in suddenly thrilling girl mystery becomes as tedious and dull as a doctor's waiting room.
This list is a work in progress, obvs. I'd like to think I am going to read more than this in 2012, but what I read usually depends on what I dig up shopping or if we can unusable donations at work. Reading recommendations are always welcome, especially if you can give me good vanity press little old lady autobiography recs!
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[12 Oct 2011|02:36pm] |
Dear Livejournal,
When am I going to learn to not buy shoes at the Salvation Army? I've been discreetly trying to hide crumbling leather dust on my black tights all day. It looks like my feet have dandruff. GROSS.
This week I watched an incredible documentary called The Natural History of the Chicken. I had no idea chickens had such strong personalities. It made me feel like my life is going to be bereft until I get a pet chicken, but I don't think the cats would appreciate that so I guess I will just have to deal.
The best part of the movie is about this lady named Karin Estrada who REALLY LOVES her Japanese Silkie Bantam named Cotton. She lives in this incredible decadent color coordinated house full of pseudo-Grecian statuary, fountains, and French Provencial furniture. Plus I learned that Cotton's favorite foods are corn on the cob and McDonald's hamburgers, and he loves to listen to opera.
I don't know if I would want to live in this woman's world, but I sure would like to visit. This movie will really make you feel bad about eating chicken, so if that is a major part of your weekly diet I recommend avoiding this movie. I also do not recommend watching it if you are at a really emotional time of the month. For vegetarians and those not easily moved to tears over chickens in peril, it is a must see.
Last night I finished reading No Nice Girl Swears by Alice Leone Moats. I never heard of it before I found a copy at a used book sale at one of my sister libraries, but apparently it was a lifestyle book for women publishing sensation along the lines of He's Just Not That Into You (only not so damn lame) in the 1930s. It's a advice book for debutantes written in a very dry, sarcastic style. I really enjoyed it, even though this is not 1933 and I am too old and destitute to be a debutante.
Here is a picture of Alice Leone Moats, looking very glamorous.
After I finished the last chapter ("Our Plastered Friends," a glossary of the different types of drunk folks and how to deal with them) I tried to start some goofy gothic romance but couldn't get into it. Maybe I'll find something better to read when we set up for our used book sale tomorrow.
I'VE BEEN THERE, Uncle Karl.
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| did you say Dark Shadows or Dork Shadows? |
[22 Sep 2011|05:36pm] |
When I heard Timothy Burton was making a Dark Shadows movie I was like, "OH, WHATEVER!" but this picture is making me a little excited! I'm so glad they kept the classic Jonathan Frid bangs on Barnabas Collins.
The cast looks pretty great, although I'm not sure how I feel about this Helena Bonham Carter concept of Dr. Julia Hoffman as a scientific Vivienne Westwood. I'm also a little disappointed they're going with the 90s Dark Shadows concept of creepy Willie Loomis. I prefer my Loomis on the boyishly handsome side a la John Karlen.
I just hope the credits include a reference to Ohrbach's Fashions. That's the real soul of DARK SHADOWS, in my opinion.
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| love, fashion, junk |
[23 Aug 2011|02:25pm] |
Dear Livejournal,
I think I'm falling in love with the UPS delivery guy at work. I am now officially a TOTAL office lady cliche. Cast me in the next Diet Pepsi ad campaign! He's so beautiful, though.
Fall fashion is really exciting this year, although I'm not sure what it says about me that I'm secretly delighted when clothes I like are in style even though I think fashion, as in CAPITAL F fashion is kind of wack. I suppose this feeling of delight could be just anticipating being able to buy great looking clothes (or their reasonably priced knockoffs, ahem), but there's more to it. I totally get off on the validation, as if a group of fashion editors and designers came up to me and said, "YOU. You are officially IN FASHION." I live in rural Pennsylvania so I don't really think that's going to happen, though.
Anyway, if haven't bought the September issues of any of the major fashion rags, yet, I will give you a nutshell summary, focusing on things I like to wear:
black is in (is it ever out, though? sometimes I feel like someone's playing a joke on me when I read these things)
black and white is in (so I can keep rocking my totally busted Chanel inspired shirts with pride. SUPER!)
black and red is in (this made me literally squirm with pleasure--I LOVE BLACK AND RED. I wear black and red all the time. But every how to dress type book I have ever read has said it is a giant fashion faux pas and I read in Paris Hilton's lifestyle book from a few years back that you should never wear red and black together because it makes you look like Freddy Kruger and I got really butthurt and now I am vindicated by Harper's Bazaar! TAKE THAT, PARIS HILTON)
black and gold is in (the downside of this is that in Pennsylvania when you wear black and gold everyone assumes you're a Steelers fan)
jewel tones are in (I bought an incredible pair of vintage pumps with little multicolored rhinestones on the toes last week, and the first time I wore them they literally fell apart on my feet and I had to do a hobo shuffle of shame back to my apartment to change shoes. Despite this experience I still like jewel tones)
animal prints are in (I've been trying to work more leopard and tiger prints into my wardrobe even though no matter how good I think I look in the morning, but the end of the day I always feel like SCTV station manager Edith Prickley)
polka dots are in (I was really into polka dots last summer, as they fit the 1950s cartoon fat lady aesthetic I was going for at the time--my current look is more French new wave meets 80s new wave at grandma's house, but I still wear polka dots sometimes)
I am really excited about the capsule collection Karl Lagerfeld is going for Macy's this fall even though he's kind of phoning it in for the little people and even at Macy's sensible prices I'm having a "oh hell no am I paying 50 dollars for a t-shirt with Karl Lagerfeld's face on it, even though I would love to have a t-shirt with Karl Lagerfeld's face on it" reaction.
For no reason, here is a picture of Uncle Karl at Barbie's 50th Birthday party:
Novelty doll cakes are FASHION.
SUBJECT CHANGE (the cool thing about online journaling is that you don't have to be bothered with actual transitions). This past weekend at the flea market I found a record I have been looking for for years:
OK, so the song "Love Can Make You Happy" is pretty high on the list of oldies radio standards I hate, but every other track on this album is a girl group number. It's actually not very good, but for that reason I really love it. For something in the sunshine pop genre it's pretty raggedy. Apparently girl singers whose voices are kind of flat trying to do three-part harmonies is like audio catnip to me.
I found this amazing pink bag (sans Blythe doll, obviously) and since I have SO MANY various bags and purses and luggage already in a perverse way I was hoping the price would be totally ridiculous so I would have the will power not to buy it. But it was fifty cents. I will buy absolutely anything if it is less than a dollar.
A toy phone, a bank shaped like a big headed little girl, and finger puppets combined into a thrilling piece of artwork. Because it symbolizes something of great value to me, and I am going to have put it in my living room.
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[15 Aug 2011|03:11pm] |
Dear Livejournal,
When I try to exercise temperance and frugality at the flea market it never works. Yesterday I was doing pretty good for an average Sunday: I only spent 2 dollars on the following items: a miniature TV set with pictures of Niagara Falls inside it and four of those little craft dolls with chenille stem arms and Styrofoam bodies with sequins and ribbons pinned into them to look fancy and opulent gowns. Anyone who has spent any time in a flea/thrift setting will probably know what I'm talking about but everyone else is probably thinking, "HUH????" I really only wanted two of the dolls but the woman I bought them from insisted I buy all four for a dollar.
I found two gorgeous cornflower blue Lady Baltimore suitcases, but passed them by in the interest of temperance and frugality. I felt very virtuous as I drove to my parents' house to do laundry.
And then I could not stop thinking about those damn suitcases all morning. Finally I broke down, threw my last load of laundry in the dryer, and went back to the flea market. As I drove back I felt embarrassed to be so compulsive, but I also had this joyful feeling that was making me feel positively giddy. It felt like love.
I'm not proud of what I did, but can I say I ADORE THESE SUITCASES? They are a product of an age with a different standard of quality. These things are tuff. Strong enough for a man, but made for a woman. And they are quilted inside with beautiful satiny blue fabric, and have this comforting grandma's house type smell to them (the GOOD kind of grandma's house smell, not the scary hospital and/or overwhelming perfume type smell). Plus the key to the suitcases is GOLDEN and has the initials for Lady Baltimore Company etched in it. And both suitcases have the ever-elegant Lady Baltimore logo written on the side in gold cursive letters. Opulence! Right now I am really into things are baroque and kind of fuddy-duddy at the same time, like doilies and chenille bedspreads and fancy cardigans. And girly suitcases, I guess.
A more pragmatic person would say, "GOOD LORD, how many suitcases does one person need?" and I would stammer some excuse about how I don't have much storage space in my apartment, bla bla bla I keep stuff in there, but for real? I just have a major suitcase fetish. Can you blame me?
I would never sit on a suitcase like this, though. That's disrespectful.
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| now I'm just being self-indulgent |
[27 Jun 2011|12:15pm] |
All last week I meant to update about last Sunday's flea market, but I kept getting distracted by other things. Is this getting obnoxious? I get the impression most of the folks reading my journal don't have my crazy hoarding packrat tendencies and most of you do not collect dolls, so it's not like I'm making you all gnash your teeth in jealous rage. RIGHT? RIGHT? I like to document the things I buy so I can go back and either relive those precious moments or think "what the hell was I thinking when I bought this crap?!"
Remember the pink chenille bedspread I was bitching about earlier this month? Well, I found one that was much more visually opulent (despite missing some strategic chenille fuzz) and cheaper to boot. Granted, it was only five dollars cheaper than the 20 dollar bedspread that gave me fits of self-righteous indignation, but in my world there's a big difference between 15 dollars and 20 dollars. A whole five dollars worth of difference. MATH! Plus this bedspread was on a table and not in a cardboard box on the ground.
This bedspread did give my bedroom a lot of dreamy 60s teenage girl fantasy bedroom moves, but my cats kept kneading it and it was causing me a lot of stress and agro, so for now I have returned to the cheapo plain white chenille bedspread I got at my favorite thrift store.
Now that this riveting sidebar on bed linens is complete (ZZZZZZ), I'll move on to my new best friend: MISS GOLDEN TORNADO.
I like her elan.
I also bought another oddball amateur painting. There is actually a real live art gallery opening in my tiny little town, and I'm toying with the idea of approaching the owners about doing an exhibition of my collection of flea market art. The owners are punks, though, so I don't know if they'd be down with my grandma's house still lifes and teen girl self portraits.
This painting was done by a teacher recuperating in a hospital, and the dish garden she captured in paint was given to her by her students. That's what it says on the back of the canvas, anyway. Cost: 25 cents. The guy I bought this from laughed out loud when I said, "How much for this painting?" I have a magical gift for buying things the flea market vendors never anticipated selling, and they're often simultaneously bemused and perplexed by the things I bring to them for pricing.
Ivy the One Legged Kenner Blythe is deftly posing to hide her flaw in a gorgeous 70s boutique type midi skirt from a flea market grab bag of doll togs. The flea market has really come through with fantastical doll clothes this summer.
Handmade blue velvet cape/poncho type thing with pink psychedelic lining. I like this picture because it looks like the doll is selling bootleg watches or scalping Jason Bieber concert tix.
Bathing suits. Sometimes I forget just how damn big a Blythe doll's head is until I stand one next to a fashion doll with a normal sized head.
This concludes the June 19th segment of today's entry. On to June 26th!
I'm trying to buy less and less paper junk and records (believe it or not), but I could not resist this gossip rag with a saucy poor boy hat and boot wearing Ann-Margret on a screaming hot pink background.
There was a CRAZY Julie Newmar influenced hair dye ad on the back cover:
Another sweet little painting.
My dolls are as obsessed with suitcases as I am. Fortunately their suitcases take up a lot less space than mine do.
The screaming lime green coat is another flea market find.
Skipper togs and some groovy gold boots with red piping down the sides. They're a little Glitter Rock for the usual aesthetic the Blythe dolls go for, so this is causing us a fashion quandary.
More Skipper togs and an unwanted suitor I could not resisting buying, if only to stage this shot of an ill-fated blind date.
After being followed by various Mary Makeup dolls for weeks ("following" is the curious flea market phenomenon where an item you have always thought about buying but didn't because of well-meaning attempts to not completely overrun your tiny apartment with junk keeps resurfacing again and again and again until you realize you are fated to purchase it whether you like it or not) I finally bought one. For those unfamiliar with fashion doll history, Mary Makeup is the BFF of Tressy. I like Tressy, but I LOVE Mary Makeup. Her simple design and plain face (the better to be a canvas for the toy makeup she was packaged with) are so refreshing and classic compared to the overly made-up, toothy Barbie dolls I grew up with.
Speaking of Barbie, I got a Western Barbie in a big odd lot of other doll junk. She's my favorite Barbie ever thanks to her ludicrously tragic and tragically ludicrous winking eye. I can't accurately describe how horrifying this doll is. You push a button on her back and her right eyelid slides down in a really alarming way. It looks terrible, like some disgusting pale blue parasite is oozing out of her eye socket. Mattel, what were you thinking? I wish I had the technological savvy to make some tumblr style animated gif of her wink, because this picture I took from etsy does not fully reveal the true stupefying horror of Western Barbie.
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| lightning strikes twice |
[13 Jun 2011|02:04pm] |
Woah, the flea market was awesome THIS weekend, too. I couldn't believe it. I read in a horoscope last week that Jupiter just entered my house or my house just entered Jupiter (I'm into astrology in a kind of half-assed way, OK?) and this would be a period of incredible luck for me and I rolled my eyes because horoscopes always promise me romance and adventure that never comes. But maybe there's something to this Jupiter business.
It actually started out on a sour note when I found a beautiful pink chenille bedspread. I am totally obsessed with chenille bedspreads. I really want a pink one for those 60s teenage girl dream bedroom moves. But the dude wanted twenty dollars for it and I automatically got righteously indignant for the following reasons:
1. it was factory made and didn't have any fancy extra stitching or embellishments.
2. it was in a cardboard box on the ground. One of my ULTIMATE FLEA MARKET PET PEEVES is when dealers who make you root around in cardboard boxes on the ground charge antique store prices for their junk. I am not above rooting around like a pig digging for truffles, but if you're going to put me through this indignity you must give me a break on the prices.
3. the guy selling it said he just got it at an auction and when someone admits they get their stock at auctions I automatically think 500% markup. I'd rather patronize the "let's clean out Aunt Gladys' house" dealer than the auction people. Better prices, no attitude.
My lousy attitude improved when I found this psychedelic recipe card album and tiny doll. The doll is a knockoff of Mattel's line of tiny Kiddle dolls, but I like the knockoffs better. They have more personality. Kiddles always have the same insipid Mattel faces, but bootleg kiddles run the gamut from saucy to frightened to downright evil. This doll looks as emotionally wounded by the world as I imagine a 3 inch high being would be. That's cool.
Anyone who frequents flea markets knows that there is a lot of fairly useless new crap clogging the aisles. Sub-Dollar Tree level stuff. I hate it! But recently there's been a weird phenomenon of a dealer who mainly sells new crap slowly integrating cool old junk into their booth. It's really disconcerting and kind of a mind freak to have to pay attention to this booth I have been ignoring on principle for so long, but yesterday the guy had a gigantic Barbie case full of riches. Doll riches. Some highlights:
Fashion Flatsy dolls! I love Fashion Flatsys because they are basically paper dolls brought to life. Also, this picture is awesome because it looks like the mod flatsy and the traditionalist bride flatsy are getting married.
Standard non-fashion Flatsy dolls. Although the girl in green is pretty fashionable. The platinum haired dreamboat is a grandma doll I redressed in mod tunic. Yeah, her shoes don't match but they're stuck to her feet. Doll problems. Be glad you don't have them.
A finger puppet doll of Davy Jones. You can slide your fingers into his little legs and make him dance.
DURRRRR, how you doin'? A really dopey looking Barbie clone wearing a nifty 70s prairie chic frock.
A gorgeous dress from Hasbro's short lived World of Love line of dolls. World of Love clothes are fantastic for Blythe dolls because the early 70s bohemian chic boutique fashions suit Blythes better than Skipper doll clothes, which are frequently too juvenile for the aesthetic I prefer for a Blythe. Yes, I have given this a lot of thought!
Despite the snide comments about Skipper clothes I love this Skipper purse from Mattel's mod era. Excuse the fact that it totally doesn't match her dress--I took these (admittedly PHONED IN!) pictures before work and didn't have time to coordinate.
This is a lovable handmade cat shaped pillow with a hand-painted face that reminds me so much of my cat Sheba. Although obviously Sheba is not flowered and not red. MORE'S THE PITY.
The final AMAZING FIND of the day was a photo album full of beautiful glossy color photos of a random family circa 1967-1970. I actually removed the photos from the album because it was one of those godawful sticky magnetic page things and the glue basically eats the pictures eventually. I don't have a scanner and some of my favorite shots didn't really work when I tried to take a picture of a picture (so meta), but here's some highlights:
Mom with her bowling trophy!
Sick at Christmas. If someone took a picture of me in all my sickbed glory I would shoot them. She looks OK, though.
I love old pictures of people in their kitchens, especially when you can see boxes of crackers or cans of tomato sauce in the background. PERIOD DETAILS, MAN!
A visit to San Francisco.
Kind of arty!
On the way back to the car I noticed that the pink chenille bedspread had been sold, so maybe 20 dollars wasn't such an outrageous price after all? That thought haunted me the rest of the day.
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| epic tales of flea market glory |
[08 Jun 2011|05:17pm] |
OK, so I think the flea market I went to this past Sunday ended up being the greatest flea market in the history of recorded time. It was so awesome I'm sort of dreading this weekend's flea market because how can it compete? It cannot.
The first thing I found was really poignant--a scrapbook a girl made in 1961 to record the events in her senior year of high school. It has pictures of her friends, programs from the school's variety show, all the graduation cards her family and neighbors sent her, and even her senior prom corsage. I found this really touching even though my personal feelings about high school can be succinctly summed up with Joan Rivers gagging noises.
Slumber party pictures! The bottom one looks just as ghostly in real life--that wasn't crummy photography on my part (for a change).
The price for this compiled volume of precious memories? One dollar.
The next amazing thing I found was a gigantic ceramic mermaid that is either a combination vase/ashtray or vase/candy dish. There's a hole in the center of her fish tail for flowers and she is holding a giant shell that could hold champagne mix or circus peanuts or some other candy no one really likes. But since I already have some goofy mermaid knick knacks in my bathroom I decided I would use the gigantic ceramic mermaid to house lipstick, cotton balls, and laundry clips. This thing is so huge I had to completely rearrange my bathroom to accommodate it, but it was worth it for the extra visual elan it brings to the room. My aesthetic right now is "decadent 74 year old woman on the town" and gold flaked mermaids definitely fit it.
Full disclosure, I paid THIRTY DOLLARS for this thing. Which is either the deal of the century or a total ripoff depending on your personal feelings about giant ceramic mermaids. I feel guilty but not ashamed, if that makes any sense.
I have no idea what this record is. It's a privately pressed tribute to Jim Reeves and it's in a plain white sleeve with pictures of the artists on the label, and they kind of look like post-punk musicians--the lady has a bouffant but for some reason I think this is from the early 80s. I'm hoping it's an amazing pastiche of New Wave sounds and classic country--like YOUNG MARBLE GIANTS singing the hits of Loretta Lynn. It probably isn't, though. Oh, and it's from Canada.
I just bought this because the cover was hilarious, but it actually has a bunch of old standards I really like, so maybe it's quite good.
I also got a Tressy doll in a sack of random doll clothes with a weird fake Ken doll. Do you know Tressy? She was another fashion doll of the 60s who lived in the shadow of Barbie for a brief period. Her gimmick was a ponytail you could yank in and out of a hole in her head with a special key you stuck in her stomach (no midriff baring tops for Tressy, obviously). Her ponytail mechanism is busted, but she is still very glamorous nevertheless.
I really love how the "cinemascope" app on picnik makes any dumb picture you took in your apartment late at night look like something from a video art installation piece from the mid 90s.
If there is one thing I love, it is vintage handmade doll clothes. They're generally better made than the commercial doll clothes and more accurately reflect what people were actually wearing at the time. I love Mod Barbie as much as the next person, but unfortunately average women were not wearing hot pink wraparound sunglasses, Courrèges boots, and bubble helmets in the late 60s. At least not every day. I found a busted up old Barbie case with a bunch of handmade frocks and coats in it along with some 80s Barbies I could have cared less about. This was a little intimidating, because nothing brings out the "do I look rich to you, flea market dude?" level prices like a Barbie case full of random crap. Luckily the guy selling this case was a little more realistic than most flea market dudes, and he only charged me 5 bucks. SCORE!
A little old lady style bathrobe for my perpetually bummed out one-legged Kenner Blythe (another flea market find I never got around to posting about)
This coat is TOTALLY AMAZING. It's fully lined, has a real fur collar, and real buttons. Sadly, I have to keep it in storage until the cooler months because my inner child is convinced that you have to dress your dolls in season appropriate fashions or they will be really sad and stuff.
I also got an old portfolio full of paper dolls. Here we see Western Barbie and Starlight Music CEO Jerrica Benton in paper doll form. There were dresses for Jem in the portfolio but the Jem paper doll is M.I.A. Damn. There were also outfits for Jerrica's boyfriend Rio but I never liked that guy anyway so who cares?
I kind of want to do more with paper dolls in my photography because it's rather trippy to have these two-dimensional beings in a three-dimensional world. MY MIND IS BLOWN!
This is a minuscule plastic television set with a little lens in the back you can see points of interest in Washington, D.C. in. For some reason I am really into dopey little touristy things like this--keychains and cheap plastic gee-gaws and especially little change purses. I buy them, display for a period, and then place them in various shoeboxes and hat boxes. Then when I'm feeling the need for inspiration I take the boxes out and stare at all the items the way a jeweler would examine a diamond ring. I have no idea what compels me to regard a crummy little change purse with the Eiffel Tower on it like it was a rare orchid. Vitamin deficiency?
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| the last movie star |
[23 Mar 2011|02:51pm] |
In tribute to the late, great Elizabeth Taylor, I am going to shine an all too brief spotlight on two of her most unappreciated works.
The Driver's Seat is frequently totally roasted in bad movie books, but having read the Muriel Spark novel it is based on I can state with AUTHORITY that it's actually a pretty faithful adaptation and terminally underrated. The crummy fullscreen public domains prints available at your finer discount store DVD racks don't help. In short, Elizabeth Taylor plays a woman in the middle of a breakdown who travels to Rome to find the perfect man to kill her. Along the way she alienates a lot of hapless hotel maids and shopgirls, meets a macrobiotic pervert with rice in his pockets, helps a wealthy dowager buy paperback books at the airport, and frightens Andy Warhol. All this and MORE! This movie will take you on an emotional journey of a thousand miles.
Of all the bizarre, epic, box office poison movies Liz made in the 60s and 70s, this one is among the loopiest.
Nicholas Roeg's visually opulent but sort of crummy remake of Tennessee Williams' Sweet Bird of Youth features Liz Taylor as Alexandra Del Lago. This movie really isn't that good, but she's obviously having a lot of fun with the part. Aging is hard to navigate for women, particularly women in the mass media, but I think Liz Taylor felt sort of liberated by aging and gaining weight since it let her out of the bombshell mold and freed her up to play more interesting roles. I could be totally off base here, but JUST LOOK:
I remember being really fascinated with that title when this movie premiered on cable TV in the late 80s, and being bitterly disappointed when my grandmother who had HBO reported that it insulted her intelligence when she watched it. Also, since it was a cable TV movie it has a fairly explicit sex scene featuring Mark Harmon in the Chance Wayne role and TO THIS DAY seeing him on TV makes me feel vaguely embarrassed because MY GRANDMOTHER SAW MARK HARMON'S BARE ASS.
Both of these movies should be available at a Dollar Tree or Big Lots near you. Once you have worked through them, maybe, just maybe, you might be mentally ready to take on the sustained cinematic fever dream that is Reflections in a Golden Eye. So much more than mere tabloid fodder, that Elizabeth.
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| COZIES: America's lost folk art |
[17 Jan 2011|01:39pm] |
This weekend I bought this weirdo 70s craft booklet called LIVING DOLLS because I liked the photographs of mangled looking craft dolls living in a kitchen wallpaper dreamscape, and the pictures got me thinking about cozies. For some reason despite all the nouveau craft revivals for crafts such as knitting, crochet, and embroidery there haven't been any major attempts to bring the art of the cozy into this century. I actually remember two separate features on various vibrator cozies in BUST magazine but it didn't lead to a total cozy renaissance or anything.
I really like the whole COZY CONCEPT, though, because like the best craft items, when you unpack the usefulness and meaning of the decorative cozy for certain household items it doesn't make a whole hell of a lot of sense. Why do I need to cover a tissue box or a toaster? It's not like they're verboten items. I sort of understand the need for toilet paper cozies because some people are timid about the reality of bodily functions, but I don't think anyone is going to be offended because your tissue box wasn't obscured by two pounds of synthetic fun fur with a doll face hot-glued to the front of it.
For the bizarre juxtaposition of utility and whimsy, I declare 2011 to be THE YEAR OF THE COZY. This is the space age. Bathroom accessories no longer need to look like bathroom accessories.
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[29 Dec 2010|02:36pm] |
Hey guys, I found another psychotic high school painting! I really hope this is a self-portrait symbolizing that the artist has different aspects to her personality that are all complex and varied and yet all deep like the ocean, but who can say what the real meaning is. It is totally witchy and evil in a really busted way and brings to mind the early works of Lois Duncan.
I was going to just take a picture of it on my cel phone but was haunted by thoughts I'd regret not buying it eventually. Last summer I found an incredible painting of two cigarettes visiting Venice (I think) laying out on the street and just took a picture and now I look at that picture and think of how awesome that painting would have looked on my wall. There are far too many regular regrets at the end of the year to have to deal with thrift store painting regrets.
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| utterly girl detective |
[06 Dec 2010|03:58pm] |
Recently I went to a Mennonite superstore that was a dry goods shop, a scrapbooking shop, a deli, a gift shop, a book store, and an antique mall, and I was amazed to see dozens and dozens of Nancy Drew books in the book store. I flipped through them and boggled at the cover art and reflected on the cultural icon that is Nancy Drew.
About a week later a bunch of Nancy Drew books showed up in a donation box at work and I decided that reading the original series in order would be a fun winter time killer (I hesitate to use the word "CHALLENGE" because I'm all grown up and reading books written for nine year old girls is anything but challenging). The classic Nancy Drew mystery stories span the years 1930 to 1979, and from a sociological perspective I think it's going to be interesting to see how the character Nancy Drew changed as the image of American women changed over the years. Those are pretty lofty words for someone reading children's books, aren't they?
I actually was never that into Nancy Drew when I was a kid--I liked her in theory, but when I tried to read the books I thought she was a prissy old fuddy duddy and was inevitably bored by her well-mannered upper-middle class crime fighting. The only Nancy Drew book I ever completed as a child was The Phantom of Pine Hill, and the only reason I even picked it up was because Claudia Kishi made a reference to it in my favorite Baby Sitter's Club epic, Claudia and the Phantom Phone Calls.
Anyway, now that I'm a prissy old fuddy duddy too, I'm actually enjoying about Nancy Drew's genteel yet fast-paced sleuthing. Right now I'm reading The Secret of Red Gate Farm, and it's a really bizarre story with a paranoid surrealism that really appeals to me. It involves an obscure rural cult, counterfeit 20 dollar bills, mysterious perfume, secret codes, and sudden sneak attacks by turkeys and snakes (not at the same time, unfortunately)!
I can see where accumulating these books could be a major money pit and storage suck because the 70s editions have revised cover art that is WICKED. The original 30s-50s editions look cool, but the 70s editions are completely nightmarish yet glamorous works of art.
Like the original WITCH TREE SYMBOL is just Nancy hanging out with some Amish folks, and the 70s reissue is this spooky picture of Nancy standing under a gnarled and cursed tree.
The original CLUE OF THE VELVET MASK is just some opera set piece, but the 70s version is something out of a giallo. A dude in a gimp mask with crazy eyes stares at a cringing Nancy.
If I can get through this mission without losing my mind and starting to carry a flashlight everywhere, my next goal is to move on to THE DANA GIRLS!
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[15 Nov 2010|04:02pm] |
I had a really intense moment last week when I discovered the door of an abandoned house I was taking pictures of (uh, photographs of a sad looking abandoned house? that's not a total cliche or anything, oh damn) was open and OF COURSE I had to go inside and snoop around.
I was expecting some disarray since this place has been boarded up for at least 8 years, but I walked into total chaos. Someone had trashed the place on every conceivable level--giant holes punched (or shot?) in the walls, furniture knocked over, doors kicked in, windows broken, bathroom fixtures shattered. It was a total bummer because in its prime this place must have been a total dream home with a soothing pale green and yellow kitchen, a tiny linen closet with green and white flowered contact paper lining the shelves, and a decadent pink bathroom. What kind of sick mind could take a sledgehammer to a pink tiled bathroom for kicks? I had a very mixed reaction because the side of me who loves Virgina Lee Burton's immortal classic The Little House was saying "THAT'S A DAMN SHAME" and my paranoid street smart side was afraid that by some chance the person who was using this place to work through their anger was still inside and I would run into them in the course of my snooping and something grisly would ensue.
It sounds pretty inconsequential when I write it out, but it was really unsettling to see all this destruction when abandoned buildings on their own are already sort of unsettling. The amount of rage this place absorbed when it was trashed was seriously making me freak out. You could feel it, man. Overall it was a cool experience, though, especially since it didn't end with me lying in a pool of my own blood on a floor covered in broken glass.
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[23 Aug 2010|02:24pm] |
Dear Livejournal,
I've been trying to mix up the routes for my evening walks and stumbled upon some amazing things this past month. First I found this incredible trail in the middle of the industrial area of the town where I live--it's like alternating layers of factories, fields of wildflowers, forest, and train tracks. Really strange and peaceful in a post-apocalyptic way. There are strange little side paths off the main path, and one that I randomly followed one night sent me zigging and zagging through a woodsy little clearing next to a stream. I ended up coming out in between two factories, one of which has retained some really amazing 70s styling.
I found out the locals call this "the Cinder Path." Sounds kind of ominous. It's so beautiful and most nights I'm the only person taking it all in, which makes me fret that the reason everyone else is staying away is that it's actually the property of an obscure rural death cult and someday they'll find me lollygagging around and then they will kill and eat me.
As long as we're looking at pictures, I REALLY HATE THE REDESIGNED FLICKR.
Here is the COOL factory. There's another one next door but it's pretty dull in comparison to Chicago Rivet.
Behind the factory is a big open field with a picnic pavilion and benches for the employees to chill out in. I trespassed there Sunday night and found a creepy little abandoned chair out in nature. That's one of the most coveted items to photograph! Too bad there was a front moving in and it was really dark and my picture turned out blurry.
I also took some pictures of the waiting room for visitors to the factory. I was so afraid I would get busted for being a terrorist when I was pressing my camera against the door!
Here is a sign from a pizza place I always walk past. I actually prefer Original Italian Pizza on 10th Street because the pizza tastes better and the manager once told me I was an incredibly beautiful woman, but East End Pizza definitely has the cooler sign. Nicer tablecloths and cool wood-paneled ambiance, too.
I thought the flea market would be pretty awful yesterday since it was drizzly and humid, but it actually turned out way better than I thought it would. I bought a random grab bag of old Barbie doll paper ephemera (fashion booklets, instructions, ads, etc.) and it included Viewmaster reels. I love vintage photography of dolls and toys, so I was over the moon!
Hahaha, Ken just totally wiped out. Barbie's hanging ten even with her crazy arched feet.
This is a really amazing image. Poignant and eerie at the same time.
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| DEMONS |
[24 Feb 2010|11:43am] |
Does anyone remember the Smurl Family? Back in the 80s they sought the aid of WORLD FAMOUS demonologist couple Ed and Lorraine Warren to help exorcise the various demons and evil spirits haunting their house. I remember losing about a week's worth of sleep after hearing them talk about DEMON ATTACKS IN THE SHOWER on Sally Jessy. There is a really stupid but still pretty scary book about the Smurl Family's supernatural problems called THE HAUNTED.
ANYWAY, yesterday at work I found a copy of THE HAUNTED inside a trash bag of donated books, and tucked inside were ACTUAL PHOTOGRAPHS, ACTUAL POLAROID PHOTOGRAPHS of the Smurl House! Whoever owned this book was so into the ghostly allure of the Smurl Haunting that they made a pilgrimage to West Pittston, Pennsylvania and took photographs. I find that really charming in a totally demented way.
The pictures in the photo section of the book are really creepy and depressing but also sort of brilliant. Even without the demons the Smurls look like they had a lot of problems.
Also, I guess the Warrens have been totally debunked in recent years as complete frauds (I don't know if I want to live in a world where professional demon hunters are all charlatans, guys) but I still love the whole concept of traveling around with your better half in a station wagon and fighting the forces of supernatural evil together. To me, that is the real love.
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| FUTURE SHOCK |
[30 Dec 2009|11:11am] |
In 2010 I'm going to start watching all those busted Italian rip-offs of THE ROAD WARRIOR. I saw a trailer for one starring Fred Williamson (oh wait, Fred Williamson is in ALL OF THEM) and it looked amazing. He was wearing a billowy Douglas Fairbanks type pirate blouse and all these Italians in cheapo New Wave ensembles were driving tricked-out golf carts and acting crazy. To paraphrase Emma Goldman, if I can't drive a tricked-out golf cart I don't want to be part of your post-apocalyptic dystopia.
Watching old movies set in the FUTURE!!! is always so disappointing. This is the space age--where the hell are my glitter tunics and bubble cars?
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phyllisgabor's journal
