Bring on the spring!

 This mid-March week has been nicely warm and sunny, a welcome change from cold and cloudy winter. My friend Judith paid me a visit in my studio in White River Junction. We ate lunch at Phnom Penh Kitchen and then did a quick bit of thrifting. She showed up in a lovely color and fabric combo of red, black and tan, she was even bare footed in her shoes. That's a big deal in Vermont in March. 

I picked up this cotton tee-shirt at Revolution. The dress was purchased by a customer who let me photograph her green and mustard acquisition (I wish I had seen her in it, oh well). 

Speaking of multiple uses for things, this old plant pot was perfect for an outdoor ice bucket, with snow scooped up from the yard as I enjoyed a beer in the sunshine. 

Pandemic year 2/New York City

 

I am in New York City hanging out with my mom for a few days. She has been vaccinated twice, while I have to wait as I belong to the last group. The vaccine has become the topic of conversation that we all share whether we are urban or rural. That seems normal given that we are now starting year two of the pandemic. On the subway, I don't even notice the masks anymore. I do notice the cool clothes and the heavy soled combat boots. 

At the New Museum where the exhibit is on mourning and the African American experience, which seems very apt at the moment, I sense that people are taking advantage of their "big" outing to dress up. I notice the windowpane coat. I would love to have one, but I'll just check out the ones I see and enjoy. The light colored windowpane pattern seems perfect for this in-between season. 

Inside the apartment, I find a magazine that features artists who have moved to Upstate New York. What does success look like, I think to myself, as my gaze falls on this photograph of an artist turned sheep farmer. This is what success looks like. Apparently he also has a donkey. I love donkeys. The article states that both his artwork and his animals "receive the same tender care." Oh dear. All I know is that I have a similar denim jacket to the one worn by the artist, that I found in a Brussels by the pound vintage clothing shop. So I have successfully acquired a cool jean jacket in which, if I ever became a sheep farmer, I could pose for a posh magazine. 

Meanwhile, my mother parts with these brand new black suede Birkenstock clogs because she can't walk in them. I will happily walk in them. Thank you mother! That was an unexpected gift, a comfortable, brand new pair of Birkenstocks. 

Walking back to the apartment after a visit to the Strand bookstore, still open, thank goodness, still filled with a bounty of books, still offering a free space in which to browse, I am striding behind a couple. At the corner, waiting to cross the street, I surreptitiously snap a photo of the ever so cool denim pants the woman is wearing. They were swaying so nicely while she was making her way to the corner. The pocket is surrounded by a darker strip of denim, very nice detail. 

And, lastly, I wanted to replace the ugly brown laces on my otherwise comfortable patent leather shoes that still have years or miles in them. In the Village, a tiny cobbler shop (redundant, aren't most cobbler shops "tiny"?) offered choices of many colors. A cobbler. A real cobbler. Someone who mends shoes. What a relief that they still exist. 

Because the shops are suffering more than ever in year 2 of this pandemic. They were already suffering, but now many more have closed their doors, including, much to my surprise, the Fly London shoe store on Bleeker. Those are great shoes, stylish, comfortable, made for walking, which right now is really all we do. So I don't understand why that store did not survive the pandemic. Nor a host of other shoes stores that have also disappeared from Lower Manhattan. I guess people are buying shoes online, I do it from time to time, it's not surprising. What is surprising is that, of all the retail in New York City, shoe stores might hang tight because of the new increase in walking ("in the city everyone's a walker" sing the Brother Brothers, on Folk Radio, streaming). 

At least the cobbler is still there. What a gift! 

Day trip to Portsmouth NH

 

Mid-Winter: New Digs and the "real Paris"

 

So. I have a "studio" now, in an old, converted bakery in White River Junction. For the moment, I still teach (Zoom) from there. When people ask me what I "do," I know that they mean, what kind of art do I practice, or alternative medicine, since those are the occupations held by the majority of the tenants in the building. I sheepishly tell them that I teach French, but that is soon coming to an end. My books are in my studio, and those are supposed to inspire me to write and draw more graphic novels. 

For the time being, I'm just happy to have a space in a funky building. I'm also happy to have a new old coat, acquired at yet another consignment shop that opened in WRJ. It's a men's Woolrich reversible coat. I love the enormous pockets. Why do men's coats have enormous pockets and women's coats have dainty useless ones? Ah, yes, we carry a purse. Still, in the winter it sure is handy to have a quick place to stuff one's hat and mittens, not to mention one's mask when there's a pandemic. 

The day I took that photo, I also happened to be wearing pants, a sweater, and a shirt that were also bought second-hand. The boots were bought new, however, but they're old now too. 

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Meanwhile, my thoughts have turned to popular TV culture and its fascination with Paris. 

Two shows have been foregrounding the city on Netflix: one is great, the other, terrible. One is French, the other American. "Call my Agent" gets the city right. You can tell because it gets the clothes right. Parisian people wear jeans to work, unless they work at an investment bank. And then again, I haven't set foot in one of those in forty years. 

"Emily in Paris" strikes annoyingly false notes everywhere it goes. And the clothes are all wrong. Four-inch heels on cobblestone streets? Off the shoulder dresses and blouses, slits up to here on tight fitting skirts? Absolutely not. The red beret? No comment. 

 "Call my Agent" -- a feminocentric, funny, well-written series about talent agents and the actors that they represent  -- also gets right that Parisians wear the same clothes day after day. Rarely do American series attempt to repeat the same wardrobe on a character. Not only is it realistic, it's also more environmentally friendly. Less dry cleaning and less soap used. 

New Year, old clothes

 Thinking, still, about Stella Tennant, and her unusual beauty. The clothes evoke nature, as she often posed in natural surroundings. 

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Tweed, wool sweaters, floral dresses, simplicity.  

I am wearing a skirt today, in part because it's been a while -- the bottom half of our bodies is not shown much in work contexts these days. Also because it's a hand me down from my mom, I had it altered because the waist was too large, the pockets were still sewn shut. On top, a short sleeved sweater that I picked up at a Housing Works in New York City. The booties are from Revolution in White River Junction. And the turquoise necklace? That came from a Santa Fe shop run by a Basque Hippie. We struck up a conversation that switched to French once he told me that he had studied at the Sorbonne. It was an important birthday for me, so I treated myself to a four strand turquoise bead necklace. I am now becoming a woman "of a certain age." 

RIP Stella Tennant

 It came across my Facebook feed. The Scottish model has died at the age of fifty. I don't know much about her, but I did always find her intriguing. She is - was - somebody I could never be: a tall, thin, aristocratic mother of four. It turns out that she valued recycling clothing. Here is a small homage to her. 

                                                            source: Vogue Magazine

And, from The Guardian: Stella Tennant and her youngest daughter, Iris, styled by Bay Garnett and photographed by Tom Craig for Oxfam’s Second Hand September. “I love Oxfam because it does two things at once: it gives clothes a new life and it helps the poorest people in the world,” Tennant said.

Photograph: Tom Craig/Oxfam

Christmas curtsy

 Oddly enough this Christmas Eve and Chrismas Day have succeeded in making me feel the "holiday spirit." This year, friends have stopped by and dropped off simple gifts. and most of the cards and packages arrived. I am thankful for the slippers, the stealth mittens, the cake, the candles, the wine, the champagne, the bath bubbles, the cookies, the flowers, the phone calls, the text messages, the photos of gatherings and planetary conjunctions. I thank my neighbor for informing me of a great place to cross-country ski (have already gone twice). My older daughter and her boyfriend prepared a "performance" for Face Time in which their new masks (popular gift item this year, I wonder why) were all stacked on their faces, and they removed them simultaneously, until I could see their uncovered faces. It was really cute. I will see my younger daughter on Boxing Day. One more "gift" for which I am grateful. A peaceful holiday season to all and may they feel the magic of this end of the year!

Coat from Revolution, White River Junction. Dress from a vintage shop in Glasgow, UK. 

Dress from Revolution, WRJ; cardigan from a charity shop in Primrose Hill, London.