my mother's brooches

I am going through my jewelry drawer to find broken, orphaned, boring costume jewelry for a local workshop on upcycling such things, offered by Tanglewood Works.

I opened the box holding my mother's brooches and began to cry. The week has started on a rocky note and unearthing one of the many, many collections of things I have of my mother's pushed me over the edge, yet comforted, hence the tears.

My mother loved brooches: on a blazer lapel, to hold a scarf in place, on her hand-knitted wool coats.

In her honor, like an pseudo-OCD meditation, I sorted the little collection. Five distinct categories are clear.

1. The ceramic, usually obtained from local Sydney artists, such as Vicki Grima:

2. The museum shop pieces:

3. The travel souvenirs:

4. The family heirlooms:

5. Her Sydney roots:

One question: what is that delicate little chain on the antique/vintage brooches for? I have yet to grasp its use. Extra security in case the main clasp gives? A way to attach two sides of, say, a scarf? I could use the Internet, I suppose, but I prefer to simply pose the question and ponder possibilities.

Re-boxing the brooches. Must remember I can take them out and wear them myself.

last hurrah of my layers

French Courtship Slip
(Mine is a mint green.)

I am loving a few cold spring days in a row because I love my layers. I did not complain about our extended winter, and I fear the heat of the coming summer.

I built the outfit on the mint-green lace maxi slip from Free People. I knew I wanted to wear it, and have not worn it enough, but how?

Underneath, I wore a body-conscious black and white knit mini dress, found at a thrift store but originally from H&M. And a pair of black-grey textured tights. Over the top of the maxi slip, I pulled on a light cotton black sweater with a nice subtly open knit, one without a label, also found at a thrift store years ago. I love how the sleeves cover my hands to the knuckles.

The black lace-up ankle boots, found in the Anthropologie clearance, from CoupleOf, a, Israel-based brand that creates fun, often vintage-inspired footwear. A close up of a pair in brown:

The leather coat? Vintage 1980s Spiegel, found for less than $10 at the thrift store, and a light pink cashmere-silk blend scarf originally from Bloomingdale's, also a thrift store find.

So happy.

colors in black

Death Becomes Her, a show exhibited this past fall (2014) at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, was a must-see the day before I ran the New York City Marathon. I was in my hometown, I love the Met, I enjoy clothing, and I am drawn to the dark and even morbid in art, fashion and design.

I came away with this post card, a close up on the details of a mourning dress from the early 1900s.

The different fabric textures catch and reflect the light. The loop details make me thing of links in a metal chain. In the black, I can see reds, yellows, browns, and even silver in the shimmer.

I wanted to paint something using the textured, hourglass image. I wasn't sure where the inspiration would take me.

Yesterday, I retrieved the postcard from a pile-o-inspiration. I should paint in oil, I thought; if I am using a lot of black, it had better be rich in color.

A round wood plate offered a place to start. So far, I blocked in the shape, the basic colors. I am not sure how literal it will remain.

It will end up as a wall hanging or even tea tray. What it will look like in the end is unknown for now.

in progress

I wing it. Okay, okay, I do know how to handle (many of) my materials, but they can be unpredictable, I often pick up something new to try, and mistakes sometimes lead to necessary fixes or interesting ends.

I jump in, sometimes with just a color or pattern in mind.

A friend gave me a worn wooden salad bowl. It was nothing special, and not even vintage, simply plain, old secondhand (originally from Pier One, then unearthed in a thrift store, yeah...).

I had saved some black and white striped tissue paper (because I save and reuse things), thinking of decoupage possibilities down the line.

I pictured the exterior of the bowl covered, haphazardly, asymmetrically, with the paper.

I didn't know where I was going to go from there. I jumped in, cut up the paper, and broke out the Modge Podge. I discovered that tissue paper requires a delicate hand, and that it wrinkles and crinkles in an unexpected way.


The black and white was not enough, I thought, when done applying the paper. I turned to my acrylic paints and blocked out stripes and shapes in grey, midnight blue and pink. Then I highlighted, defined, sharpened those with crimson, green, and turquoise.

The paint not only served an aesthetic purpose, but also a practical one, covering any seams or tears I did not like.

Here I am now. Not done, but getting there, in progress.

Next? Sealing the decoupage and painting with more Modge Podge, then layers of polyurethane for durability. And then sanding the interior and conditioning it with food-safe oil,

rare spring layering

By mid-May in the DC region, I am usually abandoning layers, drying my tears at giving up boots,
stockings and cardigans. But spring is sticking around for a wee bit, and I am smiling. I believe I would be content living where is it always between 35 and 75 degrees Fahrenheit, but I grew up surrounded by the tall buildings and asphalt of New York City and now live in the swamp of the DC region. Sweltering summers are expected, unavoidable, yet I despise them every year.

Ah, but last week, I wore a mini black trapeze dress with a pink cotton slip, light grey, pink polka-dotted, sweater-style tights, black chunky-heeled ankle boots, and a vintage black crocheted cardigan. I was comfortable, I was happy. And I am rarely just happy (too dark for a frivolous fashion post? Ah, well).

I am a petite gal, lean but not skinny, cute enough, and I like my clothes, but I confess that I sweat easily (blame goes to my father’s genes). I am a runner, too, so these summers really hurt. I keep going, but with sweat dripping off my elbows, my shoes sweat-soaked by the time I am done. I clean up well, but still.

This unusual temperate weather is already fading. What to wear when the 90-degree, 80% humidity days come, oh, very soon (today!)? Since I run hot, I must strip down to tanks and light cotton skirts. No layers. I hang my head, resigned.

But maybe, just maybe, something like this could be summer-friendly.

PS: If you are so inclined, you can get my layered look:

mini trapeze dress, Free People

(bought on sale from FP a year ago)

a breezy pink slip

(mine is a cottony jersey; I can't remember where I found it)

vintage crocheted cardigan

(mine is chunkier and has large black buttons, bought at a thrift store)

Betsey Johnson Sweater Tights
(Mine are the grey version of these)

Vince Camuto Black Suede Boots
(My lace ups are from a thrift dtore)

somewhat grown-up grunge

My personal style takes a lot from the grunge style of the early 1990s. Hell, I was 20 in 1991, so I even have some clothes from that era. I should instead write: "My style preserves and incorporates elements of early 1990s grunge." Whatever.

Today, I wear a silky black and white dot-print shirt dress with grey and burgundy striped thigh-high socks and grey lace-up boots (from Born, and they look like I always hoped Docs would but never did on me). A somewhat grown-up grunge look:

You can barely see my vintage silver and onyx scarab beetle pendant, and not visible are the Ming blossom button earrings, silver enameled with a pearly-white resin, from the Metropolitan Museum of Art shop. (Love that shop.)

See? We Gen Xers can still play with our clothes.

The Slippery Crockery shop has a bunch of early 1990s items, including a black velvet mini dress with a flocked rose design, a flowing floral navy blue silk dress, and even a pair of Steve Madden shoes, a classic chunky pair from the early 1990s.

Play with your style, update the vintage, and enjoy.

"these socks, those earrings"

Glenda Adams, late 1980s, Sydney, Australia

My mother, Glenda Adams, died five years ago today. I am her only child, and she was an amazing mother. While our tastes are different, she and I shared a love of clothing and a sense of personal style. She is a well-known Australian writer; I keep a blog about reading her writing here.

In an interview she had with Jan Hutchinson in the October 1988 issue of the journal Fine Line, they talk about whether her writing is autobiographical, morality in her writing, whether writing is political, women and writing, and my mother's two novels (at the time) Games of the Strong and Dancing on Coral.


But my mother also gets a chance to talk about clothing (because Games of the Strong includes a conflict about shorts and petticoats):


"Well, that's in a lot of my stories. What you wear. Nothing much has changed. We take as much care throwing together something casual. We choose quite carefully our tops and bottoms. These socks, those earrings. I feel that to think happily about clothes is quite a wonderful thing and it's been mistaken for -- given the fifties and sixties and the women's movement -- a sign of low self-esteem that you have to doll yourself up. You can also see it as a sign of extraordinary self-esteem. To decorate yourself with some confidence seems to me to be a wonderful urge. And not one that was encouraged in us young Australian women, especially if you were supposed to be good at your school work, which is sad for girls."


Of the many lessons she taught me? Play with and enjoy your clothing. 

the shop is up and running...

I am starting to love the photography and write ups for the new Etsy shop: http://www.etsy.com/shop/SlipperyCrockery. Goal for February: 30 items listed. I am at 17.

I remember always wanting to have a clothing shop. I thought it would be a dream to live in a clothing store.
I remember scouring thrift and vintage stores for interesting finds. The five-dollar bin at Alice's Underground was my go-to spot (and I rarely had more than five dollars then).
I remember designing and drawing pictures of clothes as early as 4 years old.

Yesterday, my 7 year old son said, "This looks like a clothing store!" He had arrived home from school, and I was in the middle of photographing and hanging and organizing my stock. I've made it!

my son dressed me today

I am wearing an Iz chosen and approved outfit today. I am not sure how it all worked out, but he does know me. Knee-high 70s Frye boots with rolled-up jeans (how else would you see the boots?):


Dark blue jeans, mini dress with a pink and citron pattern on a cream background, topped with a pink and grey striped pullover cotton knit sweater:


I went out it it--with my 1970s black leather jacket to top it all off. - Posted using BlogPress

my mother's ski sweater

In honor of what would have been my mother's 72nd birthday, today, I wanted to write something thoughtful to honor her. I wrote some notes about what she called the "clothing museum." It included clothes of hers and mine that were special in some way. I have not finished this piece for many reasons. I will get to it, soon. For today, I will post one photo of one item from that museum: my mother's ski sweater from the 1950s. It was handmade, tiny and wool.

I would never have worn it--even if it would fit me--because wool makes me itch. And I never saw my mother wear this sweater. But I picture her in it when I read her short story, "The Circle," in The Hottest Night of the Century, which revolves around a skiing trip.

Today's work on the Schrader dress re-do

I have draped Daisy in the cut pieces of the 1980s Schrader dress and the new grey fabric to get an idea of what I have and what I want to do. The whole dress will be lined in the grey cotton. (I have yet to cut those pieces.)
Do I want to add the grey stripe down the center of the skirt?
How do I want the neckline to work?
Can I pull this off?



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marathon, purple tutu and Frye boots

I ran my fifth marathon on Sunday, the Philly marathon. This was the first marathon for which I wore the purple tutu, and it kept me lighthearted as my brain became foggy and my legs stiffened up when I hit the wall at mile 22. I finished, thrilled with my 21^st-century PR (that’s “personal record”) of 3:54:06. (I did run the NYC marathon faster in 1999, but that was last century and doesn’t count anymore, right?)

The photo may be blurry, but it is the only one I have and nicely captures the movement of the tutu. I also appreciate the pink and yellow hues of the runner behind my right shoulder.

And because I ran a marathon, I get to buy these boots:

 

They are not Frye, but they are so like the then-used, now-vintage Frye boots that I bought in 1986 from a street vendor who set up her wares on a sheet on the sidewalk near the Astor Place Cube in New York City.

Since those boots became unwearable, I kept them in mind when I was wandering thrift stores, but have had no luck. I searched on etsy and eBay. I refused to pay upwards of $200 for a pair of boots that would probably let the rain in, no matter how awesome they were. (You could say, “Don’t wear them in the rain,” and I would probably listen, but as a 15-year-old, I did not.)

The day after the marathon, I looked on Etsy again. And I saw the ones above, sold by cherublover,  ], and they were on sale for a mere $80 (which is still more than I should be spending on anything, if I were to be honest). I actually like them more than the similar Frye ones below, sold by Stellah’s Groove, because the shape of the toe box is chunkier, which I appreciate, on the non-Frye ones.

Another thing I like about both pairs? They don’t have a zipper, which conflicts with the aesthetic and the purpose of the laces. I believe one should have to do the lacing up, not just work around them with a zipper as most modern knee-high lace-ups do.

So they are my marathon present. (This is not to be confused with a push present.) 

tweed swing jacket

This tweed coat is not vintage. The brand is O'Neill, and it was probably bought at a local department store (Macy's perhaps?). I found it at the local thrift store. I liked the idea: tweed with a swing shape. But the length and proportion were awkward, and the buttons were cheap.

I replaced the buttons, added a skirt using a grey and citron cotton weave with a bird print to exaggerate the swing and lengthen the jacket. The jacket now looks more interesting and retro.

And the buttons and birds match perfectly.

The size is small. Who wants it?

The vintage Schrader dress

This is the actual dress, maybe from the early 1980s, on Daisy. I am considering using the front pleats in the bodice of my design below. I love the sheer pink fabric with the white floral pattern outlined in black. It does, however, require a grey lining to tone it down.

The current form, the matronly dress complete with original shoulder pads, will be dismantled and recycled.

Now to find the time to do the work...

Schrader dress re-do

I found a Schrader dress, size 18, at my local thrift store. The sheer fabric is pink with white flowers outlined in black. I am a size 4 or 6 and the actual dress form is very dated--not retro. So I am going to use the fabric to make a flowing mini-dress, lined and bordered with grey cotton lawn fabric, and an asymmetrical hem.

As I waited for my son to be done with a school-related appointment, I sketched an idea. I will add photos of the current dress once I am back in my "studio."



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mouse girl

If memory serves, she is a mouse girl. Here, I was showing her usual clothes and her princess clothes. She is kind of like a superhero. She might look all normal in her shorts and tank top, but she is transformed with the fabulous dress. Notice how her hair also changes. 

I also have my mother's note, which she attached to my preschool drawing, which she found after moving from her Redfern row house to her Redfern apartment in 2004.

red leather jacket II

This morning, I finally finished repairing and transforming the vintage red leather jacket I bought in Maine. 


The skirt of pinwheel woven cotton fabric repairs and extends the existing red lining that was torn at the hem. I measured and drafted the four pattern pieces, lined and pleated the resulting “skirt,” then integrated it into the lining of the jacket.


I replaced the plastic buttons with buttons covered in vintage kimono fabric. The four large buttons at the wrists belonged to my mother; she had used safety pins to transform them into brooches for her assortment of blazers. The two closing the front were part of a pack of five that my mother bought at a museum shop (I can't remember which; many years have passed) and gave to me. I’ve been waiting for a way to use them. 

layering black under light colors

I do not suggest the black lace bra under a white shirt or a sheer shirt (god forbid the latter). No, nothing like that.

I tried a beige slip under this COOPERATIVE dress, and the look bored me. So I tried a back cotton knit slip instead, and was pleased with the contrast. I like the feminine pink, white, and lime green fabric, which has some sort of fruit pattern on it (I am undecided whether they are meant to be apples or cherries), against the flat back.

So there.

ode to grey

I love grey. Perhaps it is the faded New Yorker in me. I like black just fine—but I find it does not always go well with other colors. The contrast is too stark. So I have faded to grey, in fabrics. And in painting.

On the legs (is this the right term? uprights?) of a shelving project I completed with my husband, I painted blocks of bright, vibrant greens (love a lime green these days, too), reds, purples, yellows, organges and blues. I left space between the blocks and stripes for thin lines of grey, which I applied in layers. The whole painting deal took about three hours of my time. (We used recycled oak shelves from Community Forklift.)

All colors can get along if you add grey.

red leather jacket and my weak sketching skills

I had a black leather jacket from the late 1960s or early 1970s when I was a teenager in the 1980s (kind of like the one at right)—one I bought at a thrift store near St. Mark’s Place (not Love Saves the Day, but someplace similar). I loved it. The lining was fraying a bit when I bought it, and it was in very sorry shape by the time I was in my early 20s and still wearing it. I had to give it up as the whole thing came apart, and not along the seams.

I’ve been in search of a replacement ever since. Unfortunately, such “vintage” jackets now sell for more than I have been willing to pay—but I have also not found the right one. I did find one in a vintage clothing shop on the Lower East Side in February 2010: black leather, soft, almost the same, but not quite. The original was not so soft and was almost shiny. And the original was more hourglass-shaped. The new version is boxier than I would like, though it fits well and looks good with a colorful, long scarf.

This week, I found a red leather jacket at an antique (junk?) store in Milbridge, Maine, for $25. It is different than my original—not only is it red (actually more a Doc Martens’ oxblood color) but also shorter, a deficit I will have to consider. But I bought it.

I am thinking about a Victorian thing—in keeping with the skirt found in Ellsworth, Maine. I am not sure what color of mod-ish fabric would work. Lime green? Grey? Purple? Yellow? Orange? I need to see it more clearly.

And I definitely need to work on my sketching skills.