Monday Musings: Things I love lately

The last two days here in Spokane have been gloriously, inexplicably warm and sunny. In fact, the sun is pouring through my window as I write this, and I'm tempted to whisper, ever so quietly and just to myself, that it feels like...shhhhh: it feels like spring.

But alas, I can't say such things in January. We all know better. Still...we'll take the sun any day it wants to be here.

In addition to the sunshine, here are a few little diversions / projects I've been enjoying lately:

>> Weekend walks and thrifting: Saturday was foggy all day--a dense, wet, lingering fog--but we took a long stroll through Manito Park, peaked at a few houses that are for rent (we're keeping our eyes peeled these days!), and then we hit up a few of our favorite thrift stores, where I found a super oldie vintage skirt that's now mid-face lift.

>> Super oldie skirt project: Currently learning how to do a blind hem, realizing that I may not have the right presser foot for the project, and while it drives me a little crazy, I'm glad for the opportunity to practice my sewing skills.

>> Transparent: One of the most honest, witty, well-cast shows I've seen in a long time. It snagged a Golden Globe a couple of weeks ago, putting it on our radar, and truth be told, we blew through all ten episodes in a week. Beautiful writing, complicated, challenging characters, hilarious family drama.

>> Rittenhouse Old Fashioned: Because Joe is an amazing bartender and I've recently discovered that sewing projects pair well with whiskey.

>> Sasquatch Hunter's Almanac: The newest novel by one of our beloved local writers, Sharma Shields, whose book launch is tomorrow night at Auntie's Bookstore, and I can't wait to hear her read.


>> Good, long talks with good, kind peeps: Yep. They're the best.


>> Sunday jogging: Running through sunny Riverfront Park while the sun sparkled --gorgeous.


>> And...the Internet: Seriously. Take a peak at these inspiring photos of tree and flower canopies all over the world!

I want to visit every single one...

What do you love lately? Would love to hear!

Cheers, xo


{Top photo: Charley Zheng; canopy images via Bored Panda--thank you}

Thrifty.

Okay, this top photo is not my home, but it's the most perfect writing space I can imagine right now, so clean, uncluttered, retro and lovely. Perhaps some of the items were even thrifted, too, which is exactly on topic, because today we're talking about just that: thrift store magic.

I love to thrift, and I know there are many kindred spirits out there who feel the same way. It's one of several go-to stress relievers I'll employ when I need to get out of the house, or when I feel the need to shop, but without the attendant shopper's guilt that sometimes follows. It holds my focus (most of the time), gives me a goal (depending on what I may need or want), and when I find something for my home or for my closet, it feels like I've discovered a secret treasure.

But thrifting is political too. Because the truth is, as a bunch of humans on this earth, most of us have more stuff than we need. There's stuff everywhere--clothes, electronics, furniture, dishes, toys, all of it. In fact, a trip to the local thrift store reminds me of exactly how much we all tend to accumulate. Now I happen to love my stuff, don't get me wrong, but in an effort to be more green and more conscious of how goods in my home are produced, I've found that buying second-hand often yields wonderful and useful items, ones that are not only less expensive, but which also come into my life with a little history and not straight out of the factory.

The thrifting gods have been good to me, and not simply in terms of sweaters and dresses, but I've furnished a good portion of my home with finds from either second-hand stores or garage sales.
And most of it I hope to hold on to for many years to come.

I've taken a few photos of my favorite finds over the years and I've included a few words about why they're special. (There are many more that didn't make an appearance for this post, but which I hope to feature soon.)

First off, this plaid chair. I found it at the Goodwill a week after I moved into my place. I love it because of its shape, its color, and its kind spirit, and I do believe a chair may possess such a thing.

This little brass elephant. I found him at the Goodwill as well, in a section of the store that housed primarily electronics, which I took to mean that he was hiding in his secret spot, waiting for me. 

He sits by the window and he's perfect.

Three special dishes, two from the thrift store, one from a local ceramics artist, all on top of a silk polka dot scarf, also thrifted, and a table, which my mom found at a thrift store, as well. I suppose I must inherit some of these tendencies. The tiny dish is from an old friend, and there's a tiny lady and her gentleman dancing together. Love.

The bottom of the table is home to most of my scarves.

Aerial view of the living room. Many of these things were thrifted too--the coffee table I made (with a little help).

Vintage Buffet. Also rescued from Goodwill and one of my favorite pieces.
Also home to the loveliest brass swan family.

A framed print of a street in San Francisco (where I spent some good years of my life), and which looks identical to Union Street or Church Street, interchangeable I suppose, but both of which are near and dear to my heart. I found it at Goodwill and it had a companion piece that I left behind, because I suppose it felt like two too many at the time. I sort of regret not buying both--but just this one makes me happy.

This mirror, found at an estate sale in San Francisco on a morning spent with two lovely friends. It's actually convex or fish-eye--not sure this is so clear in the picture.

Lamp and hairpin-leg side table. Thrifted from a local vintage shop that has since changed names to Tossed and Found. I enjoy the bright colors, and this is the first lamp I've ever really loved.

Bookshelf for some of the overflow. It was thrifted and it fits perfectly in narrow spaces. Lots of English teaching texts hang out here. It's hard to let them go, so I keep them for now.

And more to be continued, I'm sure. Also on the subject of all things thrift, I have a little Etsy shop called Loved & Lovely, where I sell mostly sweaters, dresses, shoes and boots. Please feel free to stop by, if you'd like. I'll be talking a little bit more about it this week as well.

And finally, thank you for allowing me to indulge you with a little show and tell! I do so love the old stuff and I'm ever thankful for an audience.

(top photo via middlechildcomplex.tumblr.com)

The Politics of Getting Dressed

I've been slowly easing my way through the pages of Women In Clothes. It's been more than a few weeks now. I'm taking my time not because it isn't a pleasure to read (it is), but because this is a different kind of book--one filled with a diverse range of voices and perspectives from artists, writers, mothers, daughters, sisters, actresses, teachers--all who reflect on topics related back to clothing. In certain instances, it's one woman's meditation on a dress, how the dress came into her life, how she feels when she wears it, and how she imagines herself interacting with the world in its armor. Sometimes it's a photo journal of someone's sock collection.

But the book is less about the clothes themselves, and more a reflection on how the women feel about their own experience, their mood, and their relationship to the garment. The book is, at least in part, about how women imbue their clothing with signification--how meaning is located in the person who wears each piece, and how she thus transfers a kind of energy into the garment, and seldom the other way around, unless it's a garment or accessory that's been passed down.

But this isn't the only focus of the text, because clothing always has a history before it reaches our fingertips. The book also explores more political avenues of inquiry--examining where our clothing comes from, what it costs to make it, and what about the woman behind the sewing machine who stitches together our bras? What is she wearing? What does her shirt mean to her?  How does she choose her clothing, and what does she think about as she makes the clothing that eventually lands in our closets?

While we may have layered connections to the shirts and jeans we choose in the morning, it's difficult to ignore the separation we often have from their origins. What does it mean that these items are largely imported rather than made on domestic soil, and how do we reconcile the fact that a good portion of these goods are becoming increasingly disposable to us?

As a grad student I loved the presence of H&M and Forever 21 as options for finding sweaters and dresses that fit the bill, but which I could also afford. I thrifted quite a bit during this time too, as I do now, but if I was buying something new, I tended to go to one of these two places or the GAP. But this is rapidly changing for me. It has become increasingly difficult for me to feel good about stepping into these stores, smelling the off-gas of factory chemicals lingering in the air, and then purchasing a synthetic, chunky knit sweater for $22 that will surely pill in a matter of weeks.

More than this, I can no longer ignore the fact that these goods are produced in factories that underpay their workers and contribute to a growing human rights and ecological crisis. Mass-produced clothing causes pollution, and the people spending hours in these hot, poorly-ventilated rooms, breathing in chemicals and tiny pieces of fabric are subject to health problems.

These thoughts, questions, interviews, and revelations (and yes, it's all in there) lead up to a manifesto, about half-way through the book. Turn the page, and suddenly there's a black background, the text is green, the font sterile, and as I read it, I had goosebumps--it's haunting, some of the language here--but also refreshingly honest and inspired. Getting dressed is political, and most of us do have a choice in the matter. For some, it isn't as much a choice as it is an ethical dilemma that demands restraint when it comes to purchasing more.

The manifesto is from Margaux Williamson, (one of the many contributors), and it's called "How to Dress in Our New World."

A few excerpts:

9.  So now if you find a T-shirt on the street and it is 100% cotton, maybe it is time to put it on. That is a great find, to find cotton on the street, so far away from the fields. And though it probably advertises a bad system that you don’t believe in, everyone knows from your face what’s in your heart. And besides, our personal investigations are as valuable as our speeches. See what it is like to match your face with the bad system. There are not so many vacations anymore but we still must go places.

11.  It might seem like, in the new world, clothes are nowhere to be found, but they are everywhere. In the dessert, at the funeral home, in the garbage.

12.  There will never not be enough clothes. We made so many. Galaxies of factories were born in the name of individuality. Our person to clothing ratio spiraled out of control and the resulting great piles of clothes made more visible the meaninglessness of our individual lives on earth.

18.  What we love now are worn things, things that have made it through experiences with what appear to be travel scars and thick skin. We think, these dull blue boots are strong, I can tell they have been to the woods and the jungle and the floods and the dinner. Maybe we can’t tell what the shoes mean, since we haven’t been there, but we know they are still here. Sometimes, not knowing the meaning is not meaninglessness, but love.

You may read her whole piece here.

I'm also reminded of this book from a couple of years ago. And this. I'm curious, what do you think about when you shop? Do you have a manifesto that helps you navigate these questions?