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.

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.

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!

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.