Currently figuring out layers. It's a process. It looks easy, but when form meets function it throws a wrench in the whole thing. Having to walk everywhere in arctic weather makes for its own challenges. It's as though my feet have become tires, and God forbid they're balding. And note: I adore my dresses, I do not wear tennis shoes, and I don't do hoodies. These, among other fashion quirks and rules I've come to make my own over the years, make for this whole challenge of Boston dressing that much more strategic and fun. All in hopes that at some point I'll be able to just about throw whatever on that's lying around, already knowing what will or will not work for whatever weather decides to come in on any given day. A layer I've already learned and appreciate well: The unseen- a layer of footed tights, a layer of footless tights, and then pants. Wowsers. IDK. Gimme ideas.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
I miss my Dad.
He called me yesterday and left a message. Worried me a bit since we'd talked a day or so before, so to call so soon after makes me nervous sometimes. He's typically the bearer of bad news. Instead, he left a really sweet message to say "hello" and that they "sure do miss you". I think he was just sort of bummed out since I'm not coming home for Christmas. This will be the first Christmas of my life I haven't spent with my Dad; and for my Dad, that would make this his first Christmas in 25 years without me. It's strange. I adore my Pop. No one in the world could mean as much to me as he does. The conversation took an odd twist, too. He mentioned starting the search for a new job (he was laid off in February after the company he had worked for for about 30 years went out of business). This is a whole new world to him. A WHOLE new world. So it ended with me giving him the best advice I could about it. I told him I'd love to help him with his resume. I told him to write down every single thing he knows how to do, no matter how meaningless he may think it is; every last thing. Then we can go through it all and put it together into something cohesive. This little thing, something I can do for my Dad, makes me so happy. I'm really, really proud of him, and I'm so happy there is something I can help him with. It makes me feel like...an adult. Strange.
All the sweet, happy, colorful and modern stimulation I need in the cold, snowy world that is Massachusetts. Thank God for inspiration and imagination.
|"On One Hand" Duvet by Third Drawer Down|
Maybe it's because I was raised by my Grandma who redid the whole house every ten years or so (we're talking wallpaper, fresh paint inside and out, recovering all of the furniture, new flooring...such a modern lady; love it) that I can't live without print and color in my everyday life. We always had wallpaper. I was never a huge fan of it, though that may be because I mostly remember the pain in the ass it was to tear down. And now, after years of simply painted walls as the only way to go, I've found a love of wallpaper. Holy crap, I want it all.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
My oh-so favorite mix of modern and folk. Kilim rugs always warm my heart; especially when sitting under a Risom dining set. The Swedes really have some style. The quirky mix of old and new, modern and traditional; it makes the one look classic, the other new again. Or like the quilts of Gees Bend; so abstract and raw yet comforting and familiar. Someone made them patiently with their own hands. There was purpose in what they were making. Scraps pulled from who knows where, made to form something new. The history, the patience, the craft. Love it.
PS. I really need to learn how to properly quilt. Maybe that means I need to learn proper patience ?
I miss my Long Beach sometimes. Trying to think back about how it felt when I first moved there, it was a bit lonely. I did have friends out there that I already knew, though, unlike here in Boston. After living for a very short time with a grip of room mates again, I dearly miss having my own place. Granted, it can get lonely at times, I think it wouldn't be half bad this time around.
Monday, December 7, 2009
There are moments when the little dreamer in me takes over and the delicate feminine self can no longer hide away under its strong, independent, so-21st-century demeanor. This is one of those moments. Indulge with me, if only for a second.
Museums and libraries are homes to me no matter what city I am in. Taking hours upon hours adoring every hushed moment in the museum (any, pick one) I have to admit that ending in the museum shop is one of my favorite parts of the day. Collecting ten too many note cards and taking in all the clever housewares and 300 page coffee table books of tasty artwork top my day with a dollop of whip cream and a cherry. It's visual stimulation overload with a price tag I could almost afford. And even on days I can't, the feels-goods I leave with are more than worth the visit.
That said, I'm currently in love with the following:
|Marni via Style.com|
|Louise Bourgeois tea towel via mocastore.org|
|Ron Mueck sculpture|
I'm amazing at accumulating stuff...housewares in particular. Moving 3,000 miles away from where I started, a lot of that stuff has found new homes. Although my heart hurt to send most of it away in hopes of a new start far, far away, I did keep the most precious of precious. The precious of precious is tucked safely away in an attic in California, and here I sit atop my new home furnished with no more than a futon mattress on the floor, a 50's wire side table, and a small abandoned "shabby chic" (*bleh*) chair from the previous tenant in Boston. My walls feel empty, my clothes fighting over space in the closet (they miss the safe habitat of a dresser they are oh-so used to), and the two suitcases I brought with me are of new use to me as make-shift drawers filled with scarves, hats, and undergarments. The Nest is something that almost creates itself over time. I forgot how that works; I've been collecting trinkets and furniture and dishes since I was 14 in the dreams of making a home of my very own one day. And I did. Then I moved away from it all. So now, the Nest starts again. Slowly, but most surely. Until then here is this: all my whimsy wishes of the most perfectly, eclectically, modernly delicious house treats I adore.