New Chapter

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Outfit of the Week: Dahlia Day Dreamer

Dahlia dreams with her eyes wide open. Her favorite possession is her antique globe. When she stares long enough at it, she swears she can see the oceans move, volcanoes erupt, polar ice caps break apart and national boundaries disintegrate. She spins it around, her hand skimming the cool shellacked surface. When it stops spinning, she sees what country is under her pinky finger, and she lies back on her floor. She stares at the white ceiling and starts to put together the place in her head. She starts to feel the dry heat of the desert on pressing on her cheeks, the cool tropical breezing dancing with the hairs on her arms. She hears foreign tongues that sound like silk. She tastes the salt of the ocean, the clay of ancient cities, the steel of skyscrapers. She dreams up stories of lovers, kingdoms and wild animals. At night, wrapped in her sheets and eyes closed, she sees vivid colors of other worlds, and dances with day dreams.

Snow Day!

So I broke down and got the Internet installed in my apartment. Lucky for me I did when I did, because all week I've been working from home as my city is covered in a thick sugar icing. After conducting interviews and budgeting and whatnot, my friend and I ventured into the winter wonderland.

And then my friend and I warmed our frozen feet by the radiator. I think my sock is inside out.

I also broke down and got the Hipstamatic app for my iPhone. It is hard to resist.

So after defrosting, we decided to head out again and meet our friends at the Canterbury, a dive up the hill from us. We imbibed in hot toddies and hot chocolate with whisky and whipped cream, played footsie with a space heater, and listened to Iron Maiden's "Run to the Hills" twice.

The Creativity Thread

I'm astonished and amazed at the turns my life has taken, and the speed at which it has flew. Since I last updated this blog, I have landed a stellar job that I love, moved into a my own little corner of the world and have begun recognize myself again. I wished to find beauty in the simple, pleasure in the everyday, and now I feel so full of gratitude it curls my toes and makes me smile until my cheeks hurt.

At the beginning of the year, I wrote:

For the new year, my word is "craft", which can be used in many different contexts. I wish to craft the person I want to be, I wish to craft my home and lifestyle, and to literally use my hands and craft things (namely storylines and blog posts). I'm very excited to enter this new year, this new decade, lessons in tow and hands and heart at the ready.

I feel like I am on my way. As I fall into the rhythm of my job, and as I continue to discover things and people around me, I want to keep the word "craft" in the back of my mind. I want a thread of creativity.

I will drink in the words of other writers, gaining inspiration from their art.

I will care for those around me.

I will let my creativity express itself outwardly.

I will nourish and feed myself and my soul with whole, nutritious foods.

And I will write. I will exercise that creative faculty, writing to myself, to friends, to lovers, to God. This is how I choose to express my gratitude. I will weave stories, capture my life, share it with others.

Outfit of the Week: -Valentine's Special- Betty Boudoir

Nightgown: Lucky Vintage

Photo: Lady Leila

Betty Boudoir adores her bedroom. Her bed is a mattress on her hardwood floor, piled high with blue and cream comforters and down pillows. She drapes a gauzy mosquito net from her ceiling, and in the mornings emerges from her tent by trailing her fingertips along the hemmed opening, lightly gripping each edge with both hands and stretching her arms wide to take in the world. Along her walls she hangs her favorite slips and underpinnings, which act as her closet and from which she chooses her outfit for the day. She is a poet and works from home, and feels her most artistic when wearing next to nothing. When callers arrive, which they often do because of her wit, shine, and generosity with her Turkish coffee, she throws on a silk kimono or a quilted bed jacket, or sometimes a sheet when she did not feel inspired to dress that day. Her bed acts as her couch, her workspace, and her Tarot table. She is not lazy, and will protest at the mere mention of the word. She is relaxed and comfortable. Her bedroom is her sacred space, where dreams take her to other worlds but always bring her right back to the place she loves most. Why would she not want to share this with you?

Happy Valentine's Day! May your day, and many days after, be filled with love and light.

Outfit of the Week: Brigitte Bombshell

Dress: Cheap Thrills

Photo: Lady Leila

Brigitte Bombshell is far from a movie star. She resides in a small town in the mountains, far from the grease-slicked streets of Hollywood. Her town has one movie house that shows a different classic movie every Thursday. Every Thursday she goes to swoon over James Dean's rebel, to giggle with Marilyn Monroe's upstairs girl, to try and outwit Robert Redford's grifter. The dress she wears, a gift from her artist aunt who saw it in a thrift store in the Village and immediately thought of her favorite niece, makes her feel a part of the movies. The beauty that is forever captured in celluloid and remains bright, glittering, hopeful, despite the pops and cracks in the film strip. Her hands caress the worn red velvet seats, fingers following the curve in the arm rest that has become so familiar to her. The smell of popcorn leaves the taste of salt and butter on her lips. Some would think she is unhappy with her sleepy, small town, her life spent working in a small convenience store, assisting people always "just passing through". But she is happy with the familiarity around her, the closeness of her neighbors, the dazzling clarity of the stars in the night sky. She can have the big city, the neon glow, and the drama on the screen. She has a whole host of real bright lights above her head.

Our Time Is Now

The Patti Smith to my Robert Mapplethorpe sent me this song the other night. It is entirely too perfect and pertinent to my situation as of right now, although the "listen more to your friends" part is actually really helping me out. In fact, it is finding reflective elements in the people around me, striking chords and resonating tones that has lead me to solace and comfort. Over the weekend, I have experienced so much support and love that sometimes I felt like my ribcage was made of bird bone and people could see my heart beating much too fast through my thin skin.

And although I feel ragged and centuries old, my friend reminded me that I am, we are at the morning of our lives. But I'm not sure the dawn ever ends. There is always something new, something different, someone or some place waiting to be discovered. If I have learned anything from the women in my family (whose stories should be told, and perhaps will find their ways onto this blog), you never, ever stop growing and learning.

I'm excited for the adventure.


Note: The other morning, I woke to see my walls blushing. This photo was taken looking out my window.

Another note: Pardon all of the Patti Smith references as of late. I had the incredible opportunity to see her talk about her latest book, Just Kids, at Seattle Arts and Lectures last week. From our $10 seats, she looked like she was about twenty years old, wearing worn jeans stuffed into Doc Martens and gray men's t-shirt. Her voice was like worn leather, and she swallowed her "g's" and kept saying, "When I writ this book...". She ended the night with an acapella version of "Because the Night", with which the audience sang along to the chorus. To hear her voice fill a symphony hall was nothing short of astounding, crazy, and cool.