I made another escape to the National Gallery today, a special trip to see "Beat Memories," an exhibition of photography by Allen Ginsberg. Beat poetry was the first poetry movement I ever identified with -- my first creative writing teacher, a slightly crazy-eyed fiction and poetry writer who included his actual detention slips in his coming-of-age novel, turned me on to the Beats -- and seeing Ginsberg's photographs of Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs, Gary Snyder, Ferlinghetti and their hangers-on was like getting a voyeur's view into the banality of their lives. Here is the apartment Ginsberg kept in San Francisco, here is Burroughs on the roof of their building in New York, here is the view from the kitchen window Ginsberg sat and stared from for years, in winter, spring and summer.
He rediscovered photography as a medium in his later years, and began adding extensive captions to his photos, sometimes rambling bits of poetic thoughts, sometimes details about the subjects and what they were doing.
This self-portrait, taken on Ginsberg's 70th birthday, included details about what he was wearing. Who would have thought that all of our indulgent sartorialist posts had such a noble beginning?
Note: his ensemble includes high-end (Oleg Cassini) and thrift (Goodwill). Truly, a man after my own heart.
I almost never go shopping with a certain item in mind. Almost never. (See: BONE PUMPS.)
When I do go shopping, looking for a certain thing, I almost never find it. (See: 10 bathing suits tried on last weekend; 0 bathing suits purchased.)
Part of that is because I usually shop at thrift stores, and while I know I'm looking for "work pants," if I went in there looking for a specific pair, I'd make myself crazy. So instead, I know I'm looking for "work pants" and just pull everything I find in my size off the rack. Along with shirts, skirts, dresses and anything else that catches my eye along the way to the dressing room. Then I wheel my over-stuffed cart into the tiny room and start peeling layers off and shrugging layers on, standing on my tippy-toes and asking HM what she thinks.
And I've found some absolutely amazing pieces that way, simply by keeping an open eye and mind -- case in point, this dress that Her Madness is wearing. On our way home from the fruitless bathing suit shopping trip this weekend, we drove past a yard sale and this dress, hanging from a tree along with some other vintage-y looking pieces, just leapt out at me.
The best part?
It was a dollar.
ONE FREAKING DOLLAR for the absolute cuteness of it all.
And also? It's reversible. There's an almost-as-cute bear flying a kite on the other side, but this panda takes the cake. (Erm. The bamboo, I suppose.)
PS: Hig says this panda looks like a South Park panda. Sure, why not?
Dress: handmade by a nameless, faceless kind soul
I have a crush on Kai Ryssdal. I've never even seen his picture, but for a few years his was the voice giving the 10-minute Marketplace Morning Report on NPR. He kept me on schedule in the pre-insane commute days, when I knew if I hadn't gotten in the shower by the time his cheerful, frank commentary began, my morning was shot. God help me if I had a fashion crisis.
So Kai would talk about the stock market, the highs & lows, whose selling what & why I should care, and at the end of every segment, he'd sign off with "Make it a great day."
Kai's doing the evening report these days, which I almost never catch, and I miss his voice helping my morning run smoothly. But he's still helping me -- like I said, I listened to him for years and never thought about his sign-off until one morning I actually listened to the words and picked up on the ridiculously simple concept. Holy crap -- I can make it a great day!
So now I try hard to remember that I do have the ability to craft great days for myself, and to remember to enjoy the ride. This was Her Madness & I making our Friday a great day.
PS: in the second picture we're yelling REGINA PHALANGE.
Shirt: thrifted, Nearly New Sale
Jeans: thrifted
Silver ballerina flats: Payless
Assorted silver necklaces: flower from BH, "quirky" pendant from Sassy, glass teardrop pendant gifted from David Leight
Silver bangles: 3 of the 4 bequested from Lala, the other I found at an estate-sale warehouse we used to frequent
Okay, see, now I'm getting tired of this chilly rainy late-spring weather. Sure, for a while it was a novelty, wearing sweaters and boots and tights to work again. But now? I'm done.
This was one of those organic outfits that developed as I pulled things off hangers and from the backs of shelves. I count it a success because of HM's reaction: when I came downstairs, she got up from eating breakfast, walked over to me and very sweetly, very deliberately, touched my sweater, my skirt, my belt and my jacket, in that order and with her index finger, and then smiled and nodded.
Also because it was totally comfy and the skirt swoops around me when I move.
Jacket: found at the "Walmart" shed in my parents' tiny town
Green sweater: thrifted by MIL as a bday gift
Silver belt: thrifted
Skirt: actually a dress, one of my faves, purchased BHM
Leggings: self-made, Target tights that I cut
Silver ballerina flats: Payless
Sunday was just a ridiculously gorgeous day (especially when compared to the rain we're having as the week following it progresses), and after walking home from church I couldn't bear the thought of going back inside our dark and chilly-ish house. So it was a walk to the museum for the family, spending much of our time milling about the sculpture garden, taking advantage of the free jazz performance taking place, courtesy Baltimore City school kids. The free brownies were just a bonus.
I offered my entire outfit up to Her Madness, but she couldn't decide if she wanted me to wear a dress, skirt or pants, so I started with the pants and she built the outfit around them. These, by the way, are one of my favorite pair of pants -- comfy, soft, flowy cotton, with a flattering waistline and the perfect length for flats.
Teal sleeveless shirt: bequested, LF
Black pants: thrifted
Black ballerina flats: Payless
Bracelet: found (!) by Hig across the street from our house
Necklace: gifted, CRG
Ring: purchased in NYC a few years back, on a fabulous trip with ES#2
Black and white pic today, babies, just because it's so lovely and everything looks better in black and white. Took a field trip at lunch over to the Hirshhorn sculpture garden and a bit of time inside -- I have to keep reminding myself to take advantage of everything available in the immediate vicinity of my office. Once it gets colder/muggier-hotter I'll force myself to go inside some of the museums, but for now I'm doing as much outside as I can.
There were the to-be-expected gaggles of schoolkids all over the place -- we walked past a group of about six girls, lined up for a photo-op in their matching green shirts -- but also a few families with babes in strollers, enjoying the garden and getting some good shots for the scrapbook.
You're not missing much with the picture in black and white -- the only bits of color were the jacket and scarf: the jacket is the same from Mother's Day, that lovely deep velvety dark pinkish red, and the scarf is a gorgeous blue that's extra long and used to be impossible for me to wear without choking myself. Luckily I found these smart girls and have since learned all kinds of clever scarf tricks.
Scarf: vestige, purchased at a Lord & Taylor (I think) going-out-of-business sale
Jacket: thrifted
Grey dress: Forever 21, bequested, Neighbor J
Black tights: Target
Boots: Frye Harness
Picture courtesy CJT, photographer extraordinaire.
This dress is navy blue, so dark it's almost black, and combined with the bright red sweater, it all felt very patriotic. I thought it appropriate, though, for the first official day of my company's new CEO. What better way to express my company devotion than through my national pride?
When I put the belt over the sweater, Her Madness gasped with delight: Oh, mommy, it matches! Yes, baby, I'm just that good.
Special thanks to my lovely eldest Evil Stepdaughter for taking the pic.
Dress: thrifted as a birthday gift from MIL
Sweater: vestige, could easily date to BH (Before Hig)
Bone pumps: Nine West
Earrings: thrifted, Nearly New Sale
I made another escape to the National Gallery today, a special trip to see "Beat Memories," an exhibition of photography by Allen Ginsberg. Beat poetry was the first poetry movement I ever identified with -- my first creative writing teacher, a slightly crazy-eyed fiction and poetry writer who included his actual detention slips in his coming-of-age novel, turned me on to the Beats -- and seeing Ginsberg's photographs of Jack Kerouac, William Burroughs, Gary Snyder, Ferlinghetti and their hangers-on was like getting a voyeur's view into the banality of their lives. Here is the apartment Ginsberg kept in San Francisco, here is Burroughs on the roof of their building in New York, here is the view from the kitchen window Ginsberg sat and stared from for years, in winter, spring and summer.
