Why Europe

Back from a three week trip (journey) that came full circle in Dublin, thanks to Aer Lingus and its no nonsense approach to travel, I have a few more photos and thoughts to share. 

I come home just as the President is being impeached by the House, and Boris Johnson has won a clear majority in his Parliament. 

The political landscape is bleak, shaking democracy at its core and making those of us who still believe in it utterly depressed.

Yet, my European trip restored -- as it often does -- a bit of confidence in what is good in the human made environment.  I saw people handling transit strikes with utmost stoicism, as unions fight to preserve their retirement benefits. I saw people handling a railway breakdown with humor and patience. Mostly, I saw a world that is still in place, a world that values its...people. Europe always strikes me as a place that emphasizes the human scale. I saw more bike lanes in Paris, for instance. I saw pubs where friends and colleagues hung out after work. I saw museums where people linger in front of paintings. I visited a record store where the owner takes his time to consult a customer's list. I visited a charity shop where the manager took the time to note down a band that I recommended she see (The Milk Carton Kids). 

 Charity shop, Manchester, UK

 Used record store, rue des écoles, Paris

 Musée de l'Orangerie, Paris

                                               Pub in Dublin

 Grand Canal, Dublin

Dubliners deal with the harsh weather with a no nonsense approach. I loved the faux fur coat and floral skirt, flat shoes, on the woman above. It's raining but so what.

Meanwhile, back in the US, I talk to the taxi driver taking me from Newark Airport to Manhattan in the snow. I opted for the taxi because the public transit options at Newark are complicated. I learned from my taxi driver that he is not allowed to transport passengers back to New Jersey from Manhattan. Hence, this is his only fare for two hours. He was making a very small wage for his effort.

Nowhere is perfect, I know that. I cannot make the argument that life is better in one place over another. But somehow, I always feel that Europe is more chill, that we can slow down a bit over there, and let our senses linger. It might also be a little more equitable for everyone.

80s flashback

This trip (journey?) to Glasgow with the usual popping in and out of charity shops and street wear watching has triggered a memory of my young adulthood in the 80s in New York City. I have already given this decade some thought, having written a graphic novella about it (that I hope to publish, soon!). The tension between, on the one hand, the punk fad that was very much in the air, and, on the completely other end of the spectrum, the "Lady Di" look, with mid-calf floral dresses, below the knee plaid skirts, shetland sweaters, hunting coats and wellies, seems to sum up the politics pretty well. I experimented with the former ever so briefly when I was in film school for a year. My teachers and fellow students were all into punk, and I remember buying a shortish pink and black striped skirt as an attempt to look the part. 

But alas, my much more middle of the road attraction to the princess of Wales and my insecurities about my looks prompted me to adopt more of a Laura Ashley look during the greater part of the decade. 

Back to the present,  the airport bus from Glasgow Airport dropped me off right outside a Laura Ashley shop, and in my jet lagged daze, I decided to have a look. It was very disappointing, nothing to do with the youthful flower prints of my ... youth. 

Ebay yielded this small sample, pretty close to the kind of dress I seem to remember wearing for a dressy occasion, covering the skin quite thoroughly, my goodness. 

And to trigger the memory of Diana wearing this kind of "goodie two shoes" clothing, I found this photo. 

In one of the charity shops that one encounters while walking in the center of Glasgow, there was a corduroy jumper in a green print with a Laura Ashley label, and I was actually really turned off by the look. In retrospect, punk lost to the floral coverups, the anger and violence against the establishment was not strong enough to resist the new conformity,  capitalism winning against anarchy. 

Now we have young people walking the streets of Glasgow in retro-punk chic, like the woman pictured at the very top. I even spotted a young woman wearing  the trademark ironic/iconic plaid of punk paired with a Laura Ashleyesque floral skirt, died lavender hair and combat boots completing the look. 

It's called the peasant look now, an offshoot of the rural look espoused by urban youth who have never set foot on a farm. 

Glasgow!

This December, I am visiting my daughter Clara who is studying sound art at the Glasgow School or Art. Glasgow is a great city for thrifting, but also for seeing an urban space's multiple overlapping historical layers, from the Georgian to the more pared down turn of the last-century art nouveau style popularized by local architect Charles Rennie Mackintosh, to the post-industrial work share spaces installed in abandoned factories. 

Parnie Street in the center has quite a few vintage stores, including one run by an elderly Russian (?) couple that has quite a good selection of winter coats. 

 I also walked into a vintage shop that was actually run by a French woman who has been living in Glasgow for twenty years. I bought a kimono-like print dress, with a thick lining, perfect for winter dress up. The vibe in Glasgow is really relaxed with everyone being very polite and welcoming.

 At the School of art, I stumbled upon this flyer, about a clothes swap. Art students exchanging clothes, now that should make for an interesting selection!

my new (old) coat

 Just a quick shout out to Revolution in White River Junction, Vermont, and Kim who finds these gems. I was looking for a high collar wool coat, and there it is. The first major snow of the season gave me an occasion to wear it.

clothes swap, 2019 edition

 Here is how it is done: Women bring bags of clothes, and one at a time, they show what they brought and pile it on a chair.

We comment, "oh, that would look so good on so and so..."

 "You should try that one on..."

 "How does this close?"

                                                                                                      "It fits perfectly"

                                                    "Let's check out this pile"

 (Sometimes, outfits assemble from different sources)

Is it me? When would I wear it?

This time, I hosted. After everyone had left, this top that I had been ready to surrender was still hanging around. I'm happy to keep it for a second go!

Associative clothing 4: Georgia O'Keefe

What happens when you wait for your mother outside a building? You watch the world go by, and, with more waiting, you set the timer on your phone and start taking selfies. The results this time made me wonder whether I was channeling Georgia O'Keefe, unconsciously. But the number on the building uncannily reminded me of the famous gallery opened by Alfred Stieglitz with whom O'Keefe was long associated (the gallery and the man). It was simply named "291" after its address on Fifth Avenue.  

Back in the New York apartment where I stay when visiting aforementioned mother, I took this photo. The dress is by a Vermont mother/daughter owned company called Salam. It also reminds me of O'Keefe's ascetic style. 

Finally, rather randomly, the Bard Graduate Center is holding an exhibit on women and fashion in the First World War. The Great war was an important turning point for women, as their presence in the work force meant more freedom of movement, which made their clothing looser and less cumbersome.

And, as a final note, my friend Reena, a poet and a thrifter, in the luscious light and colors of autumn, proudly wearing her newest acquisition.

Luxury brand consignment

This week's New Yorker features this piece by Susan Orlean about the online store The Real Real. There is nothing in that article that we didn't know already. New York has I.N.A. where I browse from time to time. Honestly, I don't understand the thrill of spending a lot of money on used clothes, even if they still hold a certain monetary value.

My only insight is that, when I packed up thirty years of stuff in my rural New Hampshire farmhouse, I learned what was easy to pass on to another destination and what was not. Clothes are at the top of the list. Some furniture is at the bottom. Artwork is at the bottom bottom, or, at the very tippy top, depending...on its market value.

Thoughts on Mothering, from "Ab Fab" to "Fleabag"

One character type that has not gone out of style, or maybe is back in style, is the complaining mother. I have been binge watching series that feature this character type, from "Catastrophe" (the UK), to "The Letdown" (Australia) to "Workin' Moms" (Canada), partly because they are funny, mostly because they are cathartic, thirty years too late. 

My daughters are now twenty something women with whom I carry on analytical conversations about all sorts of things, including relationships, which is what they are naturally focused on given their age (one might argue that I should be focusing them on their career, but that's quite another matter, and besides, I sense that their father is playing that role).

When my children were very young I remember watching "Absolutely Fabulous" as a form of comic relief from all the seriousness of parenting. If one didn't take parenting seriously, well, there had to be something seriously wrong with you.

Complaining about how tough it was to be both a parent and a member of the labor force was not something we did back in the 1990s. We were going to do it all, and women like Jane Pauley ("The Today Show") with her twins and her cartoonist husband were role models (continuing the list, another woman who comes to mind is Tina Brown of "Vanity Fair"). If there was a nanny, nobody mentioned her. Those of us without a nanny toughed it out, sleep deprived, shlepping our children to their after-school activities, making our schedules work.

Now there are shows with mothers pushing strollers into cafes, and leaving their babies at home with dad while they go out with their birth class friends and drink themselves into a tizzy. There is also "Fleabag" which features two young women who do not have biological children, and that's fine. This world is not an easy one to bring children into. 

Olivia Colman, fabulous by the way, plays the stepmom, another timeless character who hasn't gone out of style either. 

In the midst of all these women I wonder how my daughters navigate through all these pop cultural role models. One phase of life at a time. 

What phase of life am I in and why am focusing my attention on young women, with or without children? I sense that part of the reason is one mentioned earlier, namely that in the 90s, when I was struggling with the job and the children, I was definitely not wheeling my little ones into cafes, or leaving them at home with dad while I cavorted with my mates. Dad was gone a lot for work, and I was tired. 

Catharsis is a big part of the joy and the attraction to these series. I also get a kick out of watching Canadian, British and Australian women and some men be culturally specific, while I sit in my American home. I'm not able to watch American series, mainly because all the actresses have the same pin and tuck on their faces, and they live in way too posh homes. I am not interested in their problems, sorry. 

I am armchair (bed is more like it, I am actually writing this post from the comfort of my bed) drinking, coffee, wine, whatever, and enjoying these shows. I thank Patsy and Edina for setting us on the course of a little self-indulgence, because, quite frankly, thirty years later, we are still complaining mainly because we still have a lot to complain about. I don't need to explain why.