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Not That Kind of Girl

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In my book, if there is a pet peeve to end all pet peeves, it is this: unsolicited advice. Hello. Did I ask you what I need to do about my hair color? No. Stop talking.

It’s not that people mean to be rude or annoying, it’s just their way of communicating. For some women, it’s the only way they know how to relate to each other. It’s their first tier mode of small-talk. Telling people what to do. And it’s not a bossy thing; it’s an asshole thing. And it’s a problem. This is slightly hypocritical since I run a blog largely based on offering information you didn’t ask for, but I trust that yal know how to close a browser tab if you don’t like what I’m dishing out. You don’t get to close the browser tab on Aunt Merna when she corners you at the Thanksgiving table and tells you that you’d catch a husband if you ate less potatoes.

Gobble-gobble, Aunt Merna!

Anyway. Now that I have that off my chest, let me tell you who can give me unsolicited advice any day of the week: Lena Dunham.

I was hesitant to jump on the Lena Dunham bandwagon because I’m too old to be a hipster or use a Diva cup, but you know what? The girl knows what she is talking about. She wrote this book, and I think everyone I know might be reading it right now. It’s that good. As part of the book launch, she released these little advice videos, that are both hilarious and pointed. Pointed in the right direction.

Here she talks about writing – why it’s important to share your perspective on trivial things as well as the heavy stuff.


Not gonna lie. It irritates me when people in their twenties have this much common sense. It makes everyone else look bad. What am I even talking about here? I don’t know. But it’s a good book. I’m not giving you unsolicited advice by suggesting you buy it, but if you were in the market for reading pleasure, and had sometime between Golden Girl’s reruns, it might be worth your time. Or not. Whatever. It’s a book. I like it. That’s me sharing what I like. You can share what you like. And we can ignore each other and still be friends.

Yay books! More videos over here.

It’s a Small World After All

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When I was a kid my cousins lived in Anaheim, California, just down the road from Disneyland. Not understanding the essentials of municipal regulations, I thought they lived in Disneyland. Like, Disneyland was the name of a place, same as Cleveland or the Catskills, and they lived there. My cousins. That put me, like, three degrees of separation from Mickey Mouse and thereby, I won. I wasn’t sure what I won, but it felt good to know I had a one-up on everyone else in Kindergarten.

Go me!

Further adding to the confusion, it seemed like every time our family went to visit them, we would all go to Disneyland. In retrospect, I think they had some sort of local resident discount deal and an amusement park was an efficient way to exhaust four small children, but at the time, I just thought that was how they spent Saturdays. That was their park. My park had a tire swing and monkey bars and a homeless looking man who liked to rub his inner thigh a lot. Their park had a castle and a Matterhorn and a Bear Country Jamboree.

I liked their park better.

On our outings to their park, my Aunt Annie usually served as the lion tamer. To thank her for her kindness in facilitating the journey we demanded she take us to the one ride she hated more than all else: It’s A Small World.

As a ride, it sucks. It’s not even a ride, it’s just a 16 person boat that floats in a moat sort of thing that winds through a soundstage filled with racially homogenized puppets dressed in America’s 1965 concept of native garb. The only part anyone remembers –not that you could forget it, as it’s carved into your ear cavity for all eternity— is the song, “It’s a Small World After All.” Not only does the song play for the ten minute duration of the ride, it plays the hour or so spent waiting in line beforehand. And so while Aunt Annie was stuck be tortured by jingle (and four kids singing along as loud as we possibly could), I was enjoying myself while looking at the murals.

This is not one of the the murals. But it’s similar.

*Tangent. Weird thing – I can describe those murals down to the palm frond, but I can’t find a photo of them anywhere on the internet. Google, wtf? I don’t get it. Were they temporary? Did they move the waiting line to make room for some devil trash Mulan ninja exhibit? (I hate her) (No, I really hate her). Also, I cannot find a photo of the exterior of the ride as I remember it – it was pink and blue with gold trim. Now it appears to be white. Am I making this up? Someone tell me I am not making this up. I swear to Barbra Streisand, it used to be mostly pink. And there were murals. I haven’t been to Disneyland in 20 years, and suddenly I feel some sense of indignant inner rage that they refurbished without asking me.

Anyway. Lucky for me, the artist behind the murals, Mary Blair, was downright prolific and made all sorts of art for me to gawk at and get nostalgic about. Lookahere….

And when Mary Blair wasn’t making stuff for Disney’s theme park, she was working as an art director for Disney’s movies like Cinderella and Alice in Wonderland.

As a kid, I was never all that big on Disney movies, but I always gravitated toward certain threads of illustration. Certain colorwaves. Certain cubist-esque style blocking shapes. I always assumed that was Walt Disney reflecting trends from the midcentury, but what I now realize is that was the midcentury reflecting Mary Blair. Granted, design influence is an odd thing to measure – creative types are all swimming around in the same stimulus soup. Things get muddled. But as an adult with a decent grasp on concepts like form and composition, I know how to recognize a visual groove when I see one, and I am so grooving on Mary Blair right now. I see her influence rippling all over 1960’s – everything from advertising and product design, to my favorite home goods manufacturer, Vera Neumann, to my own graphic design work for clients. Weird.

It’s a small world after all.

***

PS: Read more about the awesome Mary Blair. 
PPS: Read more about my favorite thing at Disneyland: the army of feral cats.
PPPS: Now I dare you to watch this and get it out of your head…

Mrs. Beeton’s Parrot Pie

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So, there is this book called Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, and I am told, fifty years ago, every woman in Great Britain had a copy in her kitchen. Being embarrassingly not British, I had heard of it but never knew much about the book or it’s author. My loss. A couple years ago I came across a copy in a used bookstore and picked it up for fun, not knowing that it was widely credited as “the first modern cookbook”(earlier cookbooks did not bother with things like measurements and oven temperatures and such) or that it was such a heavy hitter in the world of kitchen arts.  I sorta always credited Julia Child and Martha Stewart as the grand dames of cookbooks, but know I know the truth. Mrs. Beeton had them beat 100 years and counting. All hail Mrs. B!

Interestingly, apparently the book was originally written to help women at a time when socio-economic structures were murky, and the industrial revolution brought about a good deal of new wealth. Many women found themselves in positions of running a household, staff included, but had no guidance or personal experience to help them chart the course. The book covers everything from chicken soup to childcare to dish washing to elaborately displays of fruit, puss-colored aspic, and spiced rabbit meat. Yummmm-oh.

Even in all it’s Victorian leadenness, it’s actually a very fun read. I own quite a few of these household tips type of books, and this might be my favorite. You get the impression that the author takes herself very seriously indeed. I had the impression that Mrs. Beeton was some old cougar, weather-beaten by time and childrearing…but no, she was a lovely young woman. An innovative survivor type who grew up on a racetrack, of all places. Sadly she died of a fever at the age of 28, barely a week after the birth of her fourth baby.

Sophie Dahl, modern-day glamor giraffe, model., actress, (and granddaughter to Rold Dahl) (can you tell I’m jealous?), did a wonderful program on Mrs. Beeton a few years ago for the BBC. This may be old to some of you but it’s newish to me, and I’m absolutely enthralled. This woman!

Just for fun, let’s look at Mrs. B’s recipe for, wait for it…PARROT PIE.

12 Parakeets *
6  Thin slices of lean beef, 4
4  Rashers of bacon, 3
3  Hard-boiled eggs
1/2 ts Finely chopped parsley
1/4 ts Dried parsley
Finely grated lemon peel
Salt & pepper
Puff paste
Flour

   * Parakeets are a small, long-tailed tropical parrot.
  
Method: Prepare the birds, and truss them like a quail or any other small bird. Line a pie-dish with the beef, over it place 6 of the paraquets, intersperse slices of egg, parsley and lemon-rind, dredge lightly with flour, and season with salt and pepper. Cover with the bacon cut into strips, lay the rest of the birds on the top, intersperse slices of egg, season with salt and pepper, and sprinkle with parsley and lemon-rind as before; three-quarter fill the dish with cold water, cover with puff-paste, and bake in a quick oven.

Time: About 2-1/2 hours. SUFFICIENT for about 12 persons.

  Hear that folks? Lock up your ‘keets — I’m making a pie!

The Train Tramp Adventures of Dale Wickum, Photographer

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Let’s talk about my friend Dale.

Dale is married to my Mom’s college roommate Nancy, and thereby falls into the category of people who knew me before Lady Clairol’s Auburn #12, which, if you know me, is saying something.

Dale is one of these people who is almost-irritatingly cool. If I didn’t like him so much I would probably hate him. I’m sure you know the type. His stories are more interesting than yours. His jokes are always funnier. His way of viewing the world is kinder, more considerate, more enlightened than yours will ever be. He knows things about music and science and carpentry and car engines and things that boggle the mind. He rides motorcycles. He collects guitars. He makes banjos out of cigar boxes. He might be the only dude over 50 who can carry off a ponytail.

I guarantee you, he is very uncomfortable that I am telling you this.


Two years ago I was sitting in Dale’s basement working on a computer problem and we started into a conversation on our over-reliance on technology or something. All the sudden he pulls out a meticulously archived storage box full of black and white photos, clearly developed by hand a long time ago. Photos of men. Rough men. Worn out and scruffy. Images of men that look like they’d been torn from a scene in The Grapes of Wrath.

“Dale, where’d these come from?”

“You know, when I was riding the trains.”

“Like a train car? Like a freight car? Like a Willey Nelson song? You rode a train like an old timey hobo?”

“Pretty much.”

“Ummmm….Why’d you do a thing like that?”

 “Actually, it wasn’t one train, it was a bunch of trains. I just liked to jump in the beginning of the summer then ride for a few months until it got to cold. Sometimes I’d get in with a group of tramps and we’d ride to Florida to pick oranges for the winter. You know. It was a thing to do.”

…then he flips through the stack of photos until he finds an image of man named something badass like Harmonica Charlie or Cowboy Clyde, who picked oranges faster than any man despite the fact he lost an arm in a tractor accident in 1967.

Or something like that. I’m taking creative liberties with my retelling of Dale’s storytelling, but you get the idea; Dale took more than photos, he took stories. He took images of people who are rarely seen. He listened to people whose voice is rarely heard. He used his camera to provide dignity to people at the end of their road, just at a time when they needed it most. He lived as a railroad tramp for months on end, over the course of several years, then he went back to Chicago, worked his butt off in a dark room, developed these unbelievable images, then kept them to himself for nearly 40 years.

That is, until now…


In his own words…

“These men passed through life the hard way, reclusive and wary, overlooked and forgotten, and my hope is that I’ve captured their essence and afforded them the dignity of being remembered for who they were, the last of a breed.“

Some of Dale’s photos are currently exhibiting at the art gallery in the Village Hall in Lincolnwood, now through July 10. I had the pleasure of attending the reception last night, and let me tell you – if you are in the Chicago area, you need to see these photos in person. You need to.

And if you are not in the area, you are in luck— Dale has assembled many more of his photos on his website, Following the Tracks. Go and CHECK IT OUT.

I warn you now, it’s going to take you a little while to get through and absorb what you see. Even if you are not a photography buff, it’s hard to look at these photos and not develop your own narrative (which is usually the hallmark of a great photo).

Speaking of narratives… Dale reports that he is working on assembling a larger written work about his adventures (because I will continue to hound you if you don’t) (yes, I’m talking to you, DALE)…but in the meantime you can find his writing on his hilarious blog, Loitering Dog.

  

   

Rad Grannies: For UK Audience Only

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I’m really angry with Great Britain right now. First they go spell the color gray with an E, forever confusing me and my spell-checker and making me look like a wannbe run-down Princess Margaret. Then they go and bogart Downton Abbey for months at a time, selfishly preventing me from seeing it until they have their way with it. Now they go and hog the documentary I have been waiting, months, MONTHS, to see.

Bastards. 


Advanced Style, one of my favorite blogs, is now a movie. If you have been following this blog for a while you have seen my adoration for some of its stars like Iris, Ilona and Lynn. Now they are all packed into a movie, most of which takes place in New York (Hello, not London), and I can’t see it. Can you believe that? I can’t even pre-order the DVD without a British address. Seriously y’all: Unacceptable.

Welp. In the meantime, I will trust that anyone reading this in the UK right now will take a moment to look up a show time at a local theater (excuse me, theatre) and tell me how awesome it is. Just go on and rub it in. Wait and see if I care. Just you wait and see!*

*I’m lying. I totally care. Someone go and see it and tell me how it is before I bust a capillary. 

Flamingo of the Month: Hot Rod

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There is someone in Seattle driving around in a Flamingo car.

It’s not me. And it’s not Macklemore.  

Shocking.

I’m turning this moment of jealousy into an opportunity for public awareness. So, to my peeps in Washington state; if you ever find yourself on the highway and see this woman, you need to give her a honk-out. Not just for me, but for all of us. 

This photo came to me courtesy of my friend Hilary. It was a good thing it was Hilary driving that day and not me, as I would have driven off the side of the road. I mean, honestly, this is magnificent. An hour of internet stalking later, I came to find another photo of the car close up, and y’all: IT’S NOT JUST FLAMINGOS. It’s crystals and beads and flowers and some sort of pink pom-pom witch hat…

It’s like some sort of Stevie Nicks meets Lilly Pulitzer extravaganza. On a car. And it drives. I’m not the one driving it, but okay, I’m a big girl, I can move past this.

Read more about Marty Vale and her her car art (it’s not just the flamingomobile!)

Now, I don’t actually own a vehicle, but if someone reading this has experience affixing things to a car, preferably in a way that can be done quickly under the darkness of nightfall, I would love to hear what you have to say. Feel free to email to me directly, as I have friends and relations who might read this and become suspect. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.

My Five Fave Pinners

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Ouf. Monday.

A co-worker of mine once said, “The best of Monday is being on Pinterest and pretending it’s not Monday.”

Yup. That sounds about right.

Are you on pinterest? I can’t get off it. Sometimes I blame it for zapping my creativity (too much looking – not enough doing) but I’m not fighting it right now. I love Pinterest and Pinterest loves me. And while it is wonderful to have a feed full of new ideas and input from hundreds of people, there are a few I find myself pinning over and over (Want to know who you repin the most? Look in the upper right corner of your profile page). There are oodles of amazing people on Pinterest, but these five keep coming up time and again.

Disclaimer: I don’t know any of these people, I just feel like I know them based on their taste in jewelry and brownie recipes.  

Bink & Boo. When I see something on Pinterest and think SWEET-N-SOUR JESUS I WANT THAT, there’s about an 70% chance Bink & Boo was the one to pin it. I dig her style. She has better taste than me but it’s all still funkadelic. Great eye for pattern. Vibrant. Clever. Happy. Her pin boards just feel good. 

Toshiko is the great curator of what I would call light handed crafts (the opposite being heavy handed crafts, something that plagues Pinterest and my second bedroom). She ferrets out projects that are personal and thoughtful….dare I say “artistic” rather than cute or crafty or holiday-specific. There is something delicate and artful in everything she pins, which is something I admire to no end.

Amber Interiors. If Penny lane from Almost Famous grew up and became an interior decorator, Amber might be it. Very cool. Very California. Some great ethnic Etsy and Ebay finds mixed in with high-end design. Contemporary, but not intimidating. She also has great hair. I’m so jealous.

Speaking of decorators…Black & Spiro is the store belonging to Anna Spiro, the Australian decorator I would probably be stalking if she did not live in Australia. I know that sounds cute, but really, no, it’s a good thing we don’t live on the same continent because I would probably be rifling through her garbage looking for buried treasure. Then I’d get arrested. Thank goodness I can keep tabs on her via Pinterest, because that is way less creepy.

Lefa has a tremendous eye for color. And even though she puts out a high volume of pins, I can usually spot her stuff before I see her name just based on the vibe. Colorful. Craftabulous. Retro kitsch. Uplifting. 

Looking for more folks? Here are five more folks I mentioned a couple years ago. And hay! I’m on Pinterest too.

 
PS: I doubled my boards over the last year, so if you are already following, now might be a good time to drop by and “follow all.” Or not. I won’t be offended if you don’t like my pins. Speaking of offended, two points of Pinterest etiquette worth mentioning…

1. When you pin from a website, remember that the person who runs that site can see your pin comments and description when they run a search (we do that on occasion). If you pin something with a description that reads “Yuk! Who would make/do/eat/wear this?” The site admin is going to see it. And if it’s someone me, they’re probably going to comment on it and call your rudeness in front of your friends. So yeah, don’t do that.

2. It’s considered rude to copy the whole of a post’s text/instructions/recipe and paste it into the description. Instead, just use the description to entice people to click through and read the info directly on the site.

So that is what I know. Do you have any favorite folks you are following on Pinterest? If you do, leave a link to their profile in the comments (feel free to leave your profile link as well and then we can all follow each other and get a bit of a party going on. K? K!)

 

The Best Thing to Ever Happen to the Internet

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OMG OMG OMG.

You guys. You guys. You guys. You guys. You guys. You guys. You guys. You guuuuuuuuuuuuuys!!!!!!!!

YOU GUYS!

Iris Apfel, my idol, is having a cyber garage sale.

This Friday, April 5. One Kings Lane. Details here.

Sounds like she will be selling a little bit of everything. Will probably be expensive. If I’m priced out I’ll take it out on her collection at HSN, but I’ll be crossing my fingers and kissing my lucky dice just the same.

In the meantime, let’s just take a moment to remember why Iris is awesome.

This one right below was shot as a promo for her line of MAC cosmetics (sadly, no longer ins stores). Double snaps to MAC for choosing a 91-year-old cover girl. 

 She gets even better when you hear her voice.


Oh, Iris!

Prance for Me

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YOU GUYS!!!!

OMG, you guys, Joanna Rohrback, Prancercise founder (as well as my personal spirit animal) is hosting an instructional class in Washington DC on my birthday, September 21. My birthday guys!! Can you even imagine?!!

I’ll be stuck in Chicago. Uggggh. If you live anywhere near Washington DC and do not go, woe be unto you (I’M TALKING TO YOU, JOHN). If you can attend on my behalf, videotape the whole thing and/or live tweet the experience as it happens, I would appreciate it very much. If you could wear unicorn leggings, that would be even better.

Okay. Now run prance!