November 30, 2009

Monday Inspiration #27: It's Greek to me.

This is a little bit of a different format this week. I hope you enjoy it!

I am secretly a huge nerd. Well okay, maybe it's not that much of a secret, but most people don't immediately associate me with intellectualism (they do however think I am obsolete. Inside joke). However, I do have a huge scholastic nerd side. This side is obsessed (and I do mean obsessed) with ancient history. I'm not talking the dates and years of the(insert name of boring ancient war) war. Yes that stuff is tedious and memorizing dates isn't helpful to anyone. I'm talking the actual events and how they happened, and who wrote what about them, and the real people who live so long ago, and the plots and schemes, and prophesies and myths, I love it all. My particular favourite groups/time periods to study are the the Celts (my biggest pet peeve is people who say Selts, not Kelts), Romans, the Vikings (I have huge heritage-al pride), and the Greeks. My mom has this book of Greek myths that I have spent hours pouring over. I know everything (this is a bit of an exaggeration) about Greek mythology. I have been known to drop really embarrassing mythology references in everyday conversation. I even tried to incorporate my love of mythology into my blog's name (the muse part, the yammering is all me). One of my life goals is to spent a summer in Greece going to all the historical places and daydreaming about them (another is to go to Italy and do the same). The point is I really, really, really love Greek myths and the corresponding history.

Obviously I love vintage clothes, and something I've been thinking of lately is how to take more "ancient" clothing styles and incorporate them into my modern wardrobe. We all known that History repeats itself and that includes clothing. Regency era clothing was very inspired by Greek and Roman dress. Especially in women's clothing. While distinct in their own right, the silhouettes of regency clothes were based on that of the Greek and Roman gowns. The colours were inspired by the faded frescoes and mosaics that were beginning to be uncovered (I could give you a whole history of how Archaeology began during this time as well, but then I'd have to give away the name I am saving for my someday band because it's after the original archaeologists), even hair styles were inspired by the many statues being found. It was how they interpreted Greek and Roman dress.

Here are my interpretations of five Greek Goddess' and how I think they might dress today.


Hera was the queen. She was Zeus's wife and did not take kindly to his cheating. She is often portrayed with Peacocks because as legend would have it, she is the reason they have their eyes (it has to do with one of Zeus's many affairs, and a very good story, you should read it.)


Aphrodite, The goddess of love. She had no parents and was born of an oyster. She was married off to Hephaestus, but really loved Ares, the god of war. She bore Eros (Cupid) from an affair with Ares. She is also the reason Paris "stole" Helen (don't get me started. Helen went willingly. Do you hear that Mrs. Eno?).


Artemis was Apollos twin sister. The two were as different as day and night. Apollo was bright as the Sun, and Artemis as cold as the Moon. Her constant companions were a fleet of Nymphs as well as her faithful stag. She made her father promise to never make her marry and any mortal who caught sight of her bathing was turned into a stag to be devoured by dogs.

Persephone by Fraxini featuring 1928 jewelry

Persephone the goddess of spring. Flowers sprung up wherever she stepped and her laughter and joy was so penetrating that Hades carried her off to be his wife. She hated the realm of Hades, and her mother, Demeter the goddess of the harvest, missed her so much, that she refused to turn the earth green again until her daughter was returned. Zeus ordered Hades to let Persephone go, and he did knowing full well she must return as she had eaten the food of the dead, pomegranate seeds. So Persephone had to spend as many months in Hades as she had eaten pomegranate seeds, and her mother was so saddened that the world turned brown. But when Persephone returned, the earth was green again.

Athena by Fraxini featuring Anne Leman dresses

Athena is my favourite. The goddess of wisdom, of artists, of Athens, of weaving, led armies that fought for just causes, and was a remarkable beauty. She is often refereed to as Old Grey Eyes for her striking grey eyes (and that is why she is my favourite). Athena was born out of Zeus's skull and was his favourite of all his children. She was the most gifted weaver in the world. She once challenged Arachne, another great weaver who was a mortal, to a weaving competition. Arachne's weaving was flawless, save that she had made a scene mocking Zeus and his wives. In anger Athena struck Arachne turning her into a spider. And that is why Spider's weave their webs. Athena is one of the most interesting goddess, in my humble opinion.

Who is your favourite Greek goddess? How would you interpret her?

November 25, 2009

Oh Dear, babies.

Today: Celebrating end of the work week! (click to enlarge)

Last night something horrible happened. I had another baby dream. I know! It's been months! I haven't had one of these stupid dreams for a really long time and then pow! last night one hit. The premise of said dream was that I was pregnant and had really horrible morning sickness. The whole dream I did nothing but throw up. We'd walk outside, I'd throw up, we'd go to dinner, I'd throw up, we'd watch tv, I'd throw up. It was seriously the stupidest dream I've ever had. And my mom just kept laughing at me the whole time. She found it highly amusing that I couldn't eat anything, or do anything without being sick. Really random. I'm hoping this was an isolated incident.
Tuesday: Slacker outfit (click to enlarge)

In other news I feel as though I have been a bit of a slacker when it comes to ye olde bloge. Maybe not, but to me it feels like I have run out of ideas for the time being. I really think this is just because I've been focusing on other things, but still, I'd like to get back on point. I think I'll take advantage of the long weekend by photographing things I keep meaning to, plus I have several sewing projects I'm working on, and Friday I am going to be working on some of the Christmas presents I'm making for people, so maybe I'll show you a few.

I hope everyone has a wonderful and safe Thanksgiving. If you're travelling be safe and enjoy! And if you do not celebrate Thanksgiving then have a wonderful weekend!

November 24, 2009

Dear City of Riverside, It's on.

I am ranting. Then I am going to do something about this because I have had enough. I may not be a feminist, but no "man" treats me like that. No one gives me lip for expressing a very valid opinion in a very non-violent and adult like manner. You want a War Riverside? Well Guess what? You got one, and I am not giving up on this.
It should be noted that when I get mad I cry. It's not because I'm sad, or even hurt, or even PMS-ing, I just cry. My first reaction to anger is crying. This will be far more enjoyable for you try to imagine me crying while reading this. Also I had no intention of posting a rant today, in fact it was going to be a pleasant and lovely post, but now I am on the war path. It should be noted that pissing me off is probably a very dangerous thing as well.
In our ugly little be-stuccoed neighbourhood a street sweeper comes and sweeps the streets on Tuesdays. They claim it's every week but in reality it's about every two to three weeks. By street sweeper I mean a fat guy in a giant truck who drive along the curb with big brushes twirling on the truck. In California everyone drives. We have to, it's all the urban sprawl. So logic would give way to the fact that everyone has a car. I remember reading a statistic that there are something like 2.5 cars for every person in Los Angeles. It's ridiculous, but a fact of life out here.
So about two years ago they started ticketing people who were parked on the street for being in the street sweeper's way. This has really cheesed me off. I am parked in front of my own home. I should not have to get a ticket for being parked in front of my own house so the stupid suburbanites can feel like their lovely little housing developments are clean and pristine. the truth of the matter is that no one in my neighbour hood is happy. Some people, us included, have to either park on our lawns or move our cars before 7 am (even though the street sweeper never come until around 10 or 11am). It's ridiculous.
So this morning I was running really, really, late. Totally my fault, no one but I am to blame for that. Remembering that it was Tuesday I figured I'd go out to my car to find a ticket on my windshield and I'd be mad and make some sort of fake curse and then drive on my merry way. I walked out side carrying my computer, computer cord, bag and coffee. I was rushing. Coffee was spilling, bag was flying, cord was dropping. It wasn't a good time. But then I see the street sweeper driving towards me followed by the dude who gives the tickets. I began to frantically search for my keys, which were in the pocket of my coat upstairs. So the truck goes around me and the guy stops his stupid city hybrid behind my car. I run over to him and explain:
"Look I'm really sorry, but I am leaving for work right now and my keys are in the house, I'm so sorry, but I have to go run and get them."
To which he replied in a rather haughty voice: "Fine, but you shouldn't park there next time."
Now I could have just smiled and cow-towed to his wannabe authority. I could have just said oh thank you my lord, can I now rub your feet? But I have had enough of this and I decided to say something.
"You know, It's kind of ridiculous that you ticket us for parking on our street. I really don't care if the leaves are off the street. I have every right to park in front of my own house." After all I am a citizen of this horrid little place and it's my constitutional right to voice my opinion. Go me.
Do you know what he said? This: "Well now you're getting a ticket."
Yep. I was not happy. I ran into the house and found my keys ran back down hoping to be able to drive off while he was in the middle of issuing the ticket. unfortunately I didn't beat him and so I grabbed my ticket, slammed my door shut and as he drove away informed him in no uncertain terms that he was "the world's most giant asshole." I think we can all agree that this was an appropriate name.
So now I am going to go to City Hall. I am going to issue a complaint. I am going to inform them that a. he had no right to be an asshole, b. this ticketing is retarded, c. this city sucks and it's mostly because it is full of assholes like the one this morning, and d. I am not paying this ticket. Which I am not. They are going to erase it from the record, they are going to fire his ass, and then we'll see what he says when it is Christmas and he is out of a job.
Try and be a male chauvinist pig, just try. You ticket people's cars. Oooo I'm so scared.
Mess with the bull, get the horns. It's on.
So how was your morning?

November 19, 2009

Tonight, Tonight, I'll see me love Tonight*

Long Live Twerds.

Sweater and boots- Target
Shirt- Hot Topic
Jeans- Old Navy
Weirdly Excited face- NEW MOON!!!

I have listened to the soundtrack. I have watched the first movie. I am dressed. I am so bloody excited.

I am so sorry for the title of this post. It has brought me to a whole new level of nerdy-excuse me- twerdy ness. If you don't like Twilight, but roll your eyes and ignore me. But I freaking love it! Midnight showing. Tonight. My excitement cannot be contained. Yes I wore Edward Cullen on my chest at work.

Best. Day. Ever.


* Tonight from West Side Story.

November 17, 2009


Well it seems I have caught some sort of nasty cold-like thing so posting may be a bit on the slow side this week. It started yesterday morning, and by noon I felt horrible. I rode out the day but as I went in to say bye to my dad my voice cracked as my throat is quite sore and he said "oh well you don't sound to well" to which I replied "well funny, cuz I don't feel too well." Then I came home and made a stink about not feeling well and went to bed at 10:30 only to wake up at noon today. I am feeling a bit better, but still not "good." I'm actually not all that sad about being sick as I never really am sick. It's a joke among people that I never get sick, so if I am it's because I am pretending, which I have been known to convincingly do. However this is honest to goodness sickness. Trust me. I could give Ferris Bueller a run for his "faking illness" money. And even though I'm not a fan of feeling so icky and blah-like, it is nice to have a break from doing anything. My entire day consisted of me staying in bed, taking a shower, nibbling on some cookie dough, and watching the last twenty minutes of How the Grinch Stole Christmas with Grace. Now I am tidying my room a bit and then we are going to see The Wizard of Oz on the big screen! I am actually really excited about that despite my current state of wanting to curl up in a ball and sleep for the rest of my life. And that is why I don't get sick, I turn into a highly more dramatic beast.

Also I am pretty sure this is horribly incoherent and for that I apologize. My brain is a bit fuddled in my current state.

November 16, 2009

Monday Inspiration #26: Mad for

I love me some plaid. I don't think anything says "Fall" quite so well as a cozy plaid shirt, or skirt, or dress. I just love plaid.

Sorry for short post. Today is a busy one, and I am still trying to recover from this weekend. More tomorrow! I hope your weekends were really lovely!

November 12, 2009

I fell in love at Goodwill Pt. 2

Here is part two (mostly for my mom). For part one go here I won't be posting tomorrow as I am going to Pilgrim's Place! I am super excited! Hopefully I'll have a "goods" post this weekend! Have a lovely Thursday!

Three weeks. I spent every night for three weeks at that stupid thrift store. I got there at the same time and stayed until they closed. I was always the last person in the store, hoping for another glimpse of her. But she never came.

The first week had been fine. I assumed she had just had a busy week and hadn’t had time to come in. She had said she came after work, so maybe she was so busy with work that she just couldn’t come in. She would come the next week.

But she didn’t. By that Sunday night I was beginning to wonder if maybe I’d made her up. Maybe I was actually crazy and she didn’t even exist. I was convinced of it. She had been a figment of my imagination. No one could be that beautiful and be in Goodwill. She was fake. And yet I kept going back.

The third week I determined that she had been real. I’d felt her hand. Imaginary hands could not be that warm and real. Unfortuately my deciding she was real did not bring her back. So I began to panic. What if she had died? What if she had been hit by a bus and had to be hospitalized for months, and when she did finally come to, her memory would be wonky and she wouldn’t even remember me, or that she had ever been to a thrift store in her life? I needed to stop watching British Teen Dramas.

I knew I had to give up. I knew it was incredibly dumb to wait around for some girl I’d met only once. But I couldn’t. Many times I’d almost not gone, but a voice in my head pushed me in the direction of the thrift store. It told me that maybe tonight was the night, maybe she’d show up again. And with every passing night that she didn’t show up the voice would pat me on the back and tell me it was okay, maybe tomorrow.

I had found an old beaten up guitar. The neck was badly damaged and warped, and the strings were nearly untune-able, but there was something about it that made me want to buy and fix the poor thing. I strummed a chord and tweaked a string, fixated on making it sound right.

“Don’t you have some place to be?”

I jumped clashing the notes. An older African-American lady stood with her hands on her blue aproned hips. Her head was cocked to the side as she chewed blue bubble gum rather loudly. Her right foot tapped the linoleum in annoyance.

“Excuse me?” I asked annoyed with her.

“You come in here every night. Don’t you got somewhere else to be? Like with a girlfriend or somebody. You can’t keep comin’ ‘round here boy.” Her head cock had turned into a full blown head bob, which despite my annoyance with her, made me want to laugh.

“I’m sorry. I’m looking for someone who was supposed to be here.” I offered her my most charming smile which didn’t seem to do anything.

“Well I don’t know who waits for someone in a Goodwill, but you gotta stop coming here. You’re starting to creep us all out boy.” She walked away pushing her rack of clothes and shaking her head. I looked down that the guitar. She was right. I had to stop this, it was getting ridiculous. I sighed and shook my head looking down at the instrument in my hand. I walked to the register handing the frizzy haired teenager the guitar. She muttered something about my finally making a purchase. I paid the girl took my new aquisition and walked out the door.

The winter frost bit my face and I breathed it in deep. It would be okay. Maybe we weren’t meant to know one another. Maybe she was actually a nutcase and I was lucky to be rid of her. I knew these were all lies, but I let the voice in my head say them anyway. The sharp scent of cigarette smoke wafted my way as I prepared to go to my car. I heard a sudden sob coming in the direction of the cigarette. And there she was leaning against the building, legs crossed. Clothed in the same hat, coat, mittens and boots. Yellow gingham peeked from beneath the coat and her legs were now turned grey. A half burned cigarette was propped between her two fingers and she looked down at the ground, her perpetual smile softly faded. Her brow was knit and a lone tear slid down her cheek.

“Nan?” I asked in half disbelife. She looked up at me and her smile was instantly back.

“Ned! It’s good to see you.” She wiped away the tear only to let another fall. It was my turn to knit my brow. She looked at her cigarette and then to me.

“I only smoke when I’m stressed. And even then I don’t actually smoke much. I just let it burn. The smell clears my head I guess.” She said as if nothing was wrong. I looked at the open pack of cigarettes she had in her hand. There was one left in the box.

“How many have you let burn this week?” I asked.

“Four packs.”

“It’s Tuesday.” I pointed out and she grinned an embarrased grin. I couldn’t help but smile. She dropped the fag and stepped on the remaining embers.

“Let’s go.” She said walking towards me. I was shocked and stunned as she linked her arm in mine looking around the parking lot.

“Where?” I asked too dumbfounded by her proposal to appreciate it.

“I don’t care. Somewhere. Somewhere that’s not here. Somewhere with food preferably.” she continued to scan the parking lot as she spoke. A soft misting of snow began to fall on us as I stood next to the girl of my dreams. A flake fell on her nose and she crossed her eyes to see it. I laughed. And then it hit me that I had to actually take this girl somewhere. In the three weeks I’d spent planning what to say to her next I’d never planned past the confines of the thrift store. I never thought I’d get that far. But here I was with her, the girl, and she wanted me to take her somewhere. And I had no idea where to take her. I looked up at her soft features wondering where a girl like her would want to go. Her gaze was still fixed on the parking lot and she gave me no indication of where she wanted to go.

“Well what are you in the mood for?” I asked hoping she’d do my job for me. But she shrugged.

“Food in general sounds good. I’m open. Somewhere not too loud either. I can’t take much sound right now.” She began to head in the direction of my car and I followed only because we were linked. I was still too shocked to really think straight. The wind kicked up blowing the light snow around us. Her soft curls blew in my face. They smelled like raspberries. Could she really be real? Yes she could, and she was.

We arrived at my car and I opened the door for her. She smiled, seeming genuinly shocked by my act.

“Why thank you!” She said gliding into my torn up leather seat. I smiled shutting the door behind her. I put my purchase in the trunk of my car slowly, trying to buy some time and think of a place to take her. Still thinking I flopped into the seat of my car when suddenly something occured to me.

“Hey how did you know this was my car?” I asked her. She grinned and chuckled to herself.

“Only certain people driver certain types of cars. I simply looked for your type and headed towards it and you followed so I assumed I was right. It’s very simple science.” She smiled as I started the engine. I smiled back.

“You’re kind of weird, y’know. In a good way.” I said not realizing the words that were coming out of my mouth. But she just laughed, and again a million stars burst.

“I know! But I’m glad you like that. Hey let’s go to the dive-y-est place we can find!” She said quickly and emphatically. I smiled.

“You want a dive? I can give you a dive.” My heart pounded in my ears as I sat there admiring her whole demeanor, and thankful for the suggestion. She smiled back at me, and I had a feeling she was watching much closer than I knew.

“I like you Ned. You have a spark of life. Not very many people have that anymore.” She looked a little sad as she finished speaking, but continued to smile. And then suddenly she leaned up and kissed my cheek.

“Thanks for finding me.” She said softly. I temporarily lost my mind. And I knew I was in love with her.

November 11, 2009


I did a massive overhaul in my bedroom this past weekend. I moved my headboard up, moved my sister's old bed out, cleaned, organized, lemon oiled all my furniture, it was a huge undertaking! There are still little things to be done, but over all I'm very happy with the way things are turning out.

While cleaning and organizing I finally took pictures of some of the things I have found whilst thrifting lately. I also photographed my favourite part of my room now.

Top left: Little coffee mugs from the late 60's/early 70's, I couldn't help but snatch them up, the art was just too charming. Middle: Another mug. I have a serious addiction to buying coffee mugs, and this one was so cute. Top Right: A little sugar bowl that matches other mugs I have. Bottom: My headboard and wall. I really love the way it looks.

Top left: Commemorative cups from the 3oth Anniversary of the docking of the Queen Mary in Long Beach, so sometime in the fifties I believe. Top Middle: The coolest trash can I have ever seen. Bri actually found it when we went to a Goodwill in Costa Mesa. It was 99 cents. Top Right: Little yellow jars. The bottom of them say that are not to be used for food storage. Middle Left: These are paper plate holders! I love them! Middle Right: A little 70's plaque. I fell in love with this thing. Bottom Left: a 60's tissue box! Bottom Middle: real Milk glass from Goodwill. I found three others, but one of them was not real. They were all a dollar each. Bottom Left: I found these glittery signs in the dollar bin at Target! Glitter, Peace, and Joy, three of my favourite things!

Top Left: I collect a series of cookbooks TimeLife put out in the 50's and 60's. I found three of them in thrift stores recently. Top Right: The strangest little storybook I have ever seen. I had to buy it! It's about a king and queen who change a rat into their daughter. So weird. Bottom Left: When I was a kid I always wanted one of those machines and I found a whole thing of never opened bags! Now all I have to do is find the machine! Bottom Right: 60's pantyhose! Never opened! I was ecstatic!

I've been looking for a vintage globe all year and I finally found one at Goodwill for five bucks! yay!!!

Not much to say today. Weird week. I was accused of being a Witch when I shared a Bible verse with someone who claims they are also a Christian. It spurred a whole huge discussion. I am 9 parts amused by this and one part aggravated. No annoyed. But it is what it is. I've got to make alot of witch jokes.

And someone stood up for me and it made me smile, and...

oh crap...

November 10, 2009

The Peewee of the Next Generation.

Hair Bow- Vintage, Sunglasses- F21,
Sweater- Vintage, Dress- Vintage,
Belt- Vintage, Bag- Vintage, Shoes- Target

I'm really liking this new photo spot.
Thank you all for the sweet comments on my haircut! Having a heart shaped face, short bangs are something I usually stear clear of, but I think I like them for now. So thank you all for your kind words!

I wore this to work yesterday. My new hair cut has kinda kick started some wardrobe creativity. I've only worn this dress once before, but I really love it. It's a seventies-does-forties dress. You can't see them in this photo, but the sleeves are very 40's. I think I've built it up in my head as being hard to style, but in all honesty when I was looking through my clothing and shoe collections (yes they have reached collection status) I realized I actually have alot to go with it. I even have shoes in nearly every colour in the dress. Must make more of an effort to wear this dress.

Overall though I'd say this was one of my more successful outfits on the other-people-thinking-it-is-cute-and-not-weird-while-still-being-weird front. One of the ladies who works in the front of our office told me I looked like a Midge Doll. I look nothing like a Midge Doll, but it was a nice compliment anyway.

Of course this same lady came into me on Friday and told me she had a Psychic Vision of me. She saw me as the host of a PBS TV show for children called "Ashley's Corner" where I would read my highly successful series of children's books, have a sing along segement with my guitar, and make crafts, all while wearing cute clothes. Then I would go home and (and I quote) "be some sort of cool slut. Like a dominatrix." That sent me into a laughing attack. Yes I get laughing attacks. I always have. They usually last between five-ten minutes and I laugh so hard I can barely breathe, but cannot stop laughing. These are a big hit at slumber parties when you are ten, but not so much at work when you are 22. I laughed for 15 mins. No joke. I thought I was going to pass out. A DOMINATRIX? She compared me to Peewee Herman! Who thinks that is a compliment? I mean seriously! Only in my life people. This lady told this to me, Jessica, and Michael. Yes. My brother-in-law had to listen to this lady talk about me being a dominatrix. But we did conclude that my TV show would be a combination of Reading Rainbow, Mr. Rogers Neighbourhood, Barney and Peewee Herman. My future is looking rather glum.

Has anyone ever told you something weird about your future or is it just me?

November 9, 2009

Monday Inspiration #25: WWII and Veterans

Before I get to it, I just wanted to let you know there is a new header. If you read this in a reader you should hop on over to the actual post and check it out. I quite like it if i do say so myself.
Oh it has been too long since one of these! But I am super excited for this one!

As much as I love history WWII has never been one of my favourite subjects. I blame this on a teacher of mine who was OBSESSED with WWII. I took her classes from the time I was about nine or ten until I was a sophomore in High School. Every class we talked about something WWII related. Usually it centered on Hitler and the massacre of Jews and other minorities. As important as that is to understand and remember (though similar things continue and no one tries to do anything about them, but that's another story altogether), it's really, really depressing. It's not hopeful, or encouraging (and yes I know it's not meant to be), and if all I ever knew of WWII was the horrible things that came out of it, I'd probably slit my wrists (not really, I faint at the sight of blood).
However I have always found the "home front" aspect of WWII fascinating. Not Just in the States either, but across Britain, as well as occupied countries. It's fascinating the things people did for both the war effort and in order to survive. I find these things inspiring. They are the silver lining in the dark cloud of WWII. Despite the horror and crimes that were committed, people fought, everyday people. Mothers, wives, grandmothers, kids, Men, Women, Doctors, Lawyers, everyone fought in their own way. People were resourceful, and hard working, and they didn't let a little thing like war dim their hope. That's the kind of thing that inspires me.

My dear friend Hannah is a part of a Social Dance Group. They do mostly old time dances from what I understand. They had a performance this past weekend in honor of Veterans Day. Hannah posted pictures from the day on her Facebook, and when I saw the picture below I gasped out loud.

Photo by Hannah S.

Besides the fact that THOSE DRESSES ARE AMAZING AND I WILL BE MAKING THEM, I really liked the idea behind it. United we are stronger than by ourselves. Plus, um, those hats! So I began to look at more of these and found so many that made me laugh, cry, and feel just a little Patriotic (sorry Dad), that I had to share. So in Honor of Veteran's Day (which I don't actually know when it is), here are some of my favourite posters I found.

Thanks again to Hannah for the inspiration!

I secretly dream of being some sort of Vixen Spy (who apparently doesn't wear a bra) someday.

When I was in sixth grade I wanted to be a nurse for about a week. Then I saw blood and that became out of the question. If I had been a nurse, I'd insist on bring back cute nurse clothes. Screw scrubs.

I think I'd have done well joining WAVES. I look darn good in Navy Blue.
She kinda looks like she's taking his order though...

Even Coke gets in on the action. Nothings more American.

I love this one! It was actually a Hoover Ad.

A British Poster. This is heartbreaking and creepy. I do not want a ghost of Hitler whispering in my ear.
But in all seriousness I can't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for women to have to send their children away, or even leave their homes behind themselves knowing they might not come back to it.

I actually cried when I saw this one. I can only imagine how many young women worked in factories, building planes, and tanks, and whatnot, saying silent prayers for their someone over seas.

Yeah. The tear did me in.

Seeing as how Thanksgiving is just around the corner, I thought this appropriate. Families spending Holidays while missing someone who may or may not come home. Young men missing their families whom they may never see again. Can you imagine being a soldier trying to find something to be thankful for? Or someone locked in a camp with not escape in sight? We have alot to be thankful for.

Now for a bit of humor. Notice "Hitler"'s handle is his hand hile-ing?

I'm not going to lie. I love me a Navy man. But I love her dress and hair more.
However the thought of being in a submarine freaks me out. So does scuba diving though.
I'm assuming this was a moral booster? Jeeze put a girl in nearly nothing in red, white, and blue
and instead of being slutty now she is helping the war effort. (I am really struggling to not make about seventy dirty jokes based on what I just said.) Great shoes.

The creme de la creme! I was actually shocked to see this. I was also (inappropriately) happy to see this. Remember guys, VD is not Victory. (The 12 year old boy in me is giggling ferociously!)

November 8, 2009

Hairy Situation

Sweater-vintage, blouse-H&M, Dress- random cheap boutique, Stockings-vintage, shoes- target

I cut my hair. I love it. I didn't at first, but now I do.

This weekend has been very productive. I actually took pictures of things I have to show you.

Off to finishing things up!

November 7, 2009

Chariot Junk Yard

My dad and I went to Pick-a-Part, a chain or car junk yards. Whenever we have car work to do, we go here to see what we can find. I'm missing some parts on my car, and so is my mom. So we went to the nearest Pick-A-Part on Sunday in search of such items.

I actually really hate going to these places, but somehow I always end up going. This time I brought my camera. We didn't find any of the pieces we needed, but it did serve as a good conversation topic.

I was walking through these beaten and battered cars and wondered how many of our Archeological dig sites are actually ancient trash heaps. I took an Archeaology class in college and loved the class. History and Archeaology have always facinated me. In that class we discussed how we can make inferences to what sites were, but we can never actually know without some sort of written or photographic evedience. We only see what remains, we never see what was.

So it's safe to say that if we found a site full of bits of chariots, we could infer that maybe it was a chariot junk yard, or a parking lot, or a repair shop, or any number of things. But the truth is we'll never actually know for sure what these places were.

So in a thousand years when some Archaeologist begins to dig in the Rubidoux area of Riverside, California, and they find a bunch of car parts, what will they think? Will they figure out it was merely a junk yard? Or will they come up with some evidence that is was actually the site of a huge war between cars? Or just a parking lot? If they find one of the many signs stating what the place is, will the speak the same language?
I really love to think about these things. I really do think it's important to think about how people of the future will see their past, our present. What are the things that will stand the test of time? What, if anything, will survive for them to find?
There is a sense of almost nostalgia I get thinking about this. I guess it's that I know that in fifty or a hundred years there will still be people who appreciate the same things I do. Like how we feel about vintage clothing or antique things. I like to think that when we "rescue" these old items, the original owner smiles. It's like we're telling them, "Hey we'll keep these things safe. They meant alot to you, and now the mean alot to me, and someday, hopefully, they'll mean alot to someone I don't even know. We'll take good care of your memory." Even though alot of times we don't know the story behind something we "rescue", we still know that there is a story. Who knows what this dress has seen, or where these shoes have walked. Who can tell what this bag held, or how many tears this hankie harboured. Who did this hat meet, where did these earrings go? It's really a wonderful thought! How much history is left unknown. And even as someone who loves History and wishes she could know everything about it, I wouldn't change not knowing these things for the world. I like not knowing. I like daydreaming about all these questions. Because no matter how many things we rescue to keep someone's long forgotten memory alive, they always know we haven't got all the answers. And that's what keeps us coming back for more. Mystery and History are very good together.

November 6, 2009

I fell in love at Goodwill Pt. 1

I'm really struggling with my NaNoWriMo this year. It's just not meshing. So I began a short story to help get my creative juices flowing. Since I had no post set up for today I thought I'd share it with you. Realize this is a rough draft, and not meant to sound like literature. It's a comedy. What do you think? And no. I am not the girl character. any similarities is purely coincidental.

I fell in love at Goodwill.

I dropped a hanger on the floor. I sighed and rolled my eyes and bent down to pick it up. As I stood up and began hanging the threadbare plaid shirt back onto the hanger I felt the cold winter air come through the door. I turned and looked and there she was. I’d never seen her before, though I felt I should have. She looked like she didn’t belong in a second hand store, and yet she seemed to fit in here as if this was home. She was comfortable.

I watched her walk across the store towards the rack of ladies dresses. Her Irish eyes were bright from the cold, and her cheeks a healthy pink. She wore a grey hat pulled down over her ears, the bronze waves of her hair falling on her shoulders. She pulled off her green mittens and shoved them in the pocket of her brown woolen coat then took her coat off. Her dress was old, but she made it look fresh and new. Her long fingers brushed a lock of hair behind her ear revealing her face to me. It was as if God himself had carved her every feature on the porcelain of her skin. The corners of her mouth curved up making her lips in a perpetual smile. She stomped the rain off her brown boots as she readjusted her pink paisley dress. Cream coloured tights covered her legs and kept her warm. She looked warm. She looked like the kind of girl you’d never have to offer your coat to and who’s hand would always be warm in yours. She was a child of November and relished the cold and I had to talk to her. I had to know her name. She was the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. She was Venus, she was youth, she was beauty, and she was standing right in front of me caressing the contours of a double knit polyester dress.

I tried not to stare, but it was hard not to. I noticed that everyone else who passed her did a double take. She intrigued everyone. But I wanted to watch her. She went through every dress on the rack sometimes pulling something out and looking at from several different angles. Most of the time she would put the dress back, but sometimes she would slouch it over her arm. Then she walked over to the shoes. She looked at each isle going row, by row. She would pick up a shoe, examine it, hold it up to her booted foot and put it back. Then she walked over to the home wares, looking isle by isle, row by row. I watched her moving slowly towards her trying to think of something to say to her, something that would sound intelligent and witty, something that would make her want to know me. She finally made her way back to the very back of the store and began to thumb through the records, going one by one. She took time to examine everything. I walked her way occasionally stopping to look at something I wasn’t really interested in. Finally I walked to the records. I tried to pretend I was looking as I went through them, but really I was watching her. She was nearly done and I know I had to make my move. So I laughed. I didn’t know why I was laughing but I laughed. And she looked up at me with a smile.

“I know. There’s a lot of crap in here. But sometimes you can find a gem or two.” She said. Her voice was lyrical, light, and lovely. It made me smile.

“Yeah. Sometimes I wonder if all these church choirs ever thought they’d end up in Goodwill.” I said hoping I sounded funny. She laughed, thought I wasn’t sure it was in earnest.

“Me too! Beyond that I always wonder who would buy them from Goodwill. Actually I think I have a few from my grandma. I remember her telling about her “recording” days like she’d actually been famous or something. It always made me laugh.” She’d finished her row of records, but began to thumb through it again.

“You gotta love old people.” I laughed and rather abruptly she looked up at me and extended her hand.

“I’m Nan.” I took her hand and shook it lightly. Her hand was warm.

“I’m Ned.” She grinned and laughed hysterically. Her laugh was like a million stars bursting all at once.

“That is too funny! We’re Nancy and Ned! Just like Nancy Drew! I think Nancy Drew was my best friend for most of my childhood.” She smiled with just a hint of sadness. I laughed to try and make her happy again.

“That’s weird! I guess we were meant to meet then!” I chuckled as she looked at her watch.
“I guess so. It was really nice to meet you Ned. I’ll see you around.” she smiled politely and turned to leave. I didn’t want her to go, I wanted her to stay.
“Nan! Do you come here often?” I called as she walked to the register. She smiled and nodded.
“I yeah, I’m here all the time. I come after work. So I’ll see you?” I nodded in reply and smiled. She purchased her items, smiled at me, and left. And I knew I loved her.

November 5, 2009

Mid Day Confessions.

I have to get something off my chest. It's going to be painful, and not cool, but I have to say it. Breathe Ashley. You can do this. Alright. Ready?

Guys. I love the 70's.

Hat- gift from sister from Chicago, IL.
Flower Pin, socks, boots- Target
Dress and bag- Vintage

I know. I know! "The 70's!" you say. Yes the 70's. I love everything about it. Everything. I've yet to meet a thing from the 70's that I didn't like. Wood panelling, lava lamps, shag rugs, avocado green, I love it all. I know. I won't harbour any hard feelings if you stop reading my blog for this horrible indiscretion. Feel free to delete me and never return. I will understand. Because here comes the kicker:

The 70's is my favourite decade. I KNOW! It's horrible! I shouldn't be able to live with myself, but it's true. I love it. I love the colours, the vibe, the music, the clothes, the hair, the shoes, everything. I love it's earthy-ness, I love it's free spirited-ness, I love peace movement, I freaking love Peace signs! I don't know what I'm going to do with myself, but guys, no matter what other decades I like, or try to be influenced by, I always come back to the 70's. Always. I can't help myself. I'm a hippie at heart, and frankly, I kinda love that. So sure, I'm gonna wear a 50's cotton dress, or a 60's wiggle dress, or even a 20's drop waist dress, but I will probably wear them with my natural frizzy hair, little make-up, and boots. Cuz guess what? I really love polyester and hemp. But not that kind of hemp.

Earrings- Gift from mom and dad from San Francisco

So yeah. There you have it. What is your deep dark inspiration secret? Let's fess up

November 4, 2009

You have had your fill, your fill of me*

Dress- Thrifted
Boots- Target
I know. I spent the whole summer complaining about the colour terquoise and here I went and bought a dress in that very colour. Well first off, I'm not crazy about this dress anyways. I like the basic shape of it (which is why I bought it), but I'm not altogether sold on the rest. I might dye it? I think Yellow would be cool. I am also thinking I'm going to shorten it to about my knee. Waddaya think?

Yesterday I watched an old Chinese man get arrested in the Bankruptcy court for trying to hit a Federal Marshall. He(the man who was arrested) was mad that because of Osama we have to take our shoes off to get into court and he was not a terrorist so why did he have to take his shoes off? He screamed all this at the court clerk while flinging his shoes (which here in his hands) at her. Someone called the Marshall. The Marshall tried to calm the man down. The man started screaming again about how "it's Osama's fault!" and he tried to hit the Marshall with his shoes. The Marshall blocked the hit, flung the guy around and cuffed him. I promptly left.

In other news I'm in a bit of a I-live-the-same-day-over-and-over-again funk. The weather is being indecent (Come on 90 in NOVEMBER? that's not even charmingly California quirky. It's just insane.), and just nothing is happening. I'm drowning in work, and laundry and other things, but it's like I never get a break. That plus the recent realization that I am a creature of change and hate routine, and need newness, are all making the days blend together. Maybe I'll have to go do something foolhardy and crazy. That usually cures this feeling :-).

How's your Wednesday?
*December Baby from Girls and Boys by Ingrid Michaelson