Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Jonny and Cairo on Pins and Needles

It's good to back in LA. With all the things: the dirt, the sunshine, awwwl dees skinny bitches, the hobos, the health nuts, the bullshit, the terrifying feeling we'll never make it coupled with the opportunity to make it big.......and hipsters. 

Jonny had his first art show in LA with his pal, Cairo, a few nights after we arrived. It was all the way in North Hollywood...which looks a lot like Hollywood, but newer and more northy. Because of it's northy-ness living costs are lower than LA proper making it particularly more young and hipster-y (particularly in the arts district). 

The show was a success! Jonny sold two pieces, but the gallery was literally PACKED with 90's vintage-clad 20-somethings. Not just a ditsy floral dress here or neon there, but FULL ON Clarissa Explains it All EVERYWHERE. Gals taking selfies, punks present solely for the free PBR. I was pumped at the huge turn out, but as the music got louder the crowd thickened and so did the warm, beer-breathy air. The room began to close in. 
I felt old. 
Why did I wear heels to an art show like a dick? 
This music's reeeal loud, y'all. 
It's 11pm.

I stepped outside. 

As I peered back through the gallery window at the impending hipster dance party, it made me happy and thankful and sad and nervous. I remembered when I was that age, and I was that pumped to be out and about watching my friends play music and do art. I was thankful they were all there with all of the fires in all their bellies. Then I remembered I'm almost 30. Then I was like, "those kids better not fuck up my husband's art". Official geezer. 

But I'm good with it. With age comes taste refined, truer friendships, a clearer understanding of the things that stay, better sex, and an appreciation for one's self and style.


Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Teal and Terracotta

Every item in this photograph was aquired at a thrift store with the exception of one piece: the jeans. The jeans that I purchased 2 months ago that already have a snag in the fabric. The jeans with the elastic that sticks me in random parts of my inner thigh. The jeans with the waist band that stretches out and makes me look like I have poopy pantz. The jeans that I bought because they were on super sale.

Ironically enough thrift shopping has taught me to appreciate finer things. Who would've thought a gal could learn to elevate her taste level in a place that smells like a mix between a dusty attic and a daycare? Year after year the closet purges pile onto one another and year after year the weakest link in my closet gets stronger and stronger. I'm talking literally strong…like the fabric unravels with less ease. Like my silk shirt from Thift Town is basically Sylvester Stallone in Rocky compared to that pilly-ass H&M cardigan I just tossed. So there. 

Just a little post to get me started again. Been gone a while. Life as usual. 

In other relevant fashion news: my husband is getting reeeeeeeally into jumpsuits. At first I was scared, but now it's making me feel happy things. 


Thursday, October 31, 2013

Epiphanies in the Ladies Room

A few nights ago Jonathan and I decided to be cultured and ventured to Venice to see a one man show or  "Pub Play" at The Del Monte Speakeasy (conveniently for this story, the Del Monte is situated beneath the oldest bar in Los Angeles). It was cold and rainy that night, which is a rarity in SoCal, so the dimly lit underground bar swallowed us right up. We sipped our Old Fashions in the windowless room under a low wood ceiling, red lights glowing through fringed lamp shades, mustachioed bartenders chipping ice. The performance (Connor McPherson's St. Nicholas) was amazing...brought me to tears, but that's not the point of the story. The point of the story is the epiphany I had in the pisser.

I made my way to the ladies room at intermission. I pushed open the heavy wooden door expecting white or yellowish walls, bluish buzzing lights, maybe a glop of pinkish soap on the sink..ya know, the usual. Instead I was welcomed by deep orange wallpaper with gardenias outlined in gold. The light was dim, the mirror designated for women to touch themselves up (separate from the sink) floated above a dark, old wooden ledge. A plump velvet chair sat firmly on the floor covered in patterned tiles, petite square and octagonal, clearly still there from some better time. I was shocked at how comfortable I felt in a room meant mainly for defecating and gossiping.

It was then I gazed over to the stalls, one on either side of the entrance, and I saw a small vintage chandelier over each one. Basically I was going to feel like Elizabeth mofackin' Taylor while I took a pee pee. I had to laugh. "This is why I love vintage" I thought. Vintage begets a time when functional items were thoughtful, well-made and stylish. Seams were more tightly sewn, kitchen appliances were pearly blues and pinks, make-up compacts were decorated metal to be refilled, and bathrooms were stylish.

These days we are inundated with gobs of ugly plastic bullshit (to put it eloquently). What is now a "Made in China" fill-in-the-blank piece of plastic that is meant to be used (maybe twice), then lost or thrown out and repurchased was once made of metal or glass or wood and was beautiful and meant to last, so you wouldn't have to buy a new one.

"If I'm going to have toaster, it's going to be lovely to look at"
"If I'm going to buy a light under which I pee, it's going to be a chandelier"

Besides the booze, I think this is why Speakeasys are so popular right now. People want to remember a better time. With our everyday lives filled with plastic and convenience, folks are yearning to experience something thoughtful and well crafted. They don't care if it takes a bit longer. When I think of our future sons and daughters going to vintage pile sales only to pull out Forever 21 dresses and shirts it makes me cringe, which compels me to urge you to buy things that are well made. Or vintage.

And that sirs and ladies is my Thursday rant.

Coat: Vintage (Similar)
Belt: Vintage
Pants: Vintage Guess (Similar)
Boots: Rocket Dog (old, but here's something similar)
Hat: Gift

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