Monday, April 29, 2013

"Why Kate, you're not wearing a bustle. How lewd." Doc Holliday

640 mile Harley ride bonanza.........

 First destination, TOMBSTONE AZ the site of the "Gunfight at the O.K. Corral" involving 2 famous cowboys Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday, etc.  Big Nose Kate was rumored to be a prostitute and linked with Doc Holliday.  The saloon is nice and cool when you've been riding in the 100 degree weather.  They have a lot of memorabilia to look at, live music and of course drinks.....which we needed badly.  No wonder in the old westerns, the cowboys always came in for a drink.  MUST HAVE:  Saloon in the desert.

Want a tan.....ride a Harley.  Getting lots of sun even with mounds of sun screen.  Stopping at every Harley Davidson along the way.  I think I'm starting a HD t-shirt collection.
It's good to ride with friends who want to stop to wet your whistle.
Next major stop BISBEE, AZ an old copper mining town from the late 1800's.  This cooled us off a bit, as Bisbee has a higher elevation and is about 20 degrees cooler.  The town is built around rocky mountains with curved roads.

Great ride with good friends, sites, food, sunshine and booze!

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

“Odors have a power of persuasion...."

Another estate sale find....
on my old mannequin.
Coat and dress vintage attire.
Russian rabbit fur hat.
Hence, ANNA KARENINA which for some reason led to reading PERFUME by Patrick Suskind.

PERFUME is the story of a murderer in 18th century Paris.  An orphan is born with no body odor of his own but with a highly developed sense of smell.  He attempts to create the ultimate perfume by killing virgin women and taking their scent.  I became interested in this book after checking the top 100 list.  Also, I found out that Kurt Cobain of Nirvana, was inspired by PERFUME to write the song SCENTLESS APPRENTICE from his IN UTERO album.

If you need a good read, try this book.

“Odors have a power of persuasion stronger than that of words, appearances, emotions, or will. The persuasive power of an odor cannot be fended off, it enters into us like breath into our lungs, it fills us up, imbues us totally. There is no remedy for it.”
― Patrick SüskindPerfume: The Story of a Murderer

Monday, April 22, 2013

Electric Threads and My Muse

Sometimes I use my handless beat-up mannequin to display vintage dresses.  Especially when they are an extremely small size as this 1960's party dress.
Or my daughter Jennie.....
Boho leaps....
Golden 2 piece....
I probably could have posed with this coat as it is big on her, but she looks better in brown than I do.

I really LOVE vintage clothes and get such a joy from looking at everyone's photos!

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Patched Jeans 1973

My sisters patched jeans from 1973.

I remember these patches and fabric.

Always the rebel, hippie wearing the ONE WAY JESUS patch on her ass!

Oh, Dad didn't like it.  But I found this photo in his magazine (the one I posted yesterday).  Obviously, he and the same photographer must have thought my sister jeans were worth publishing.

The poem reads:

"lots of people
puttin' Jesus on their
instead of in their
they don't love him
they just wear him"
Stephen R. Clark

During this time, I was 10 and she would have been 13 or 14.  She was my idol wearing hip-huggers and halter tops.  Big belts, Jesus sandals, headbands and flowing bright dresses.

 Burning incense in her bedroom, listening to albums such as THE EDGAR WINTER BAND, THE ALLMAN BROTHERS, OSARK MOUNTAIN DAREDEVILS, ALICE COOPER,  BLACK OAK ARKANSAS, etc.....  I would sneak into her room when she was gone, listen to the records over and over.  Studying the words and pictures on the covers.

I remember she would iron her hair on the ironing board because she wanted straight long hair like Cher.  I copied her, ironing my hair when I didn't need it.  I always had straight hair, but I wanted to be like her.

 I remember the cute boys who would come over to see her and I would always try to spy on them.

 One time when a group of her friends spent the night, I watched them drink pickle juice trying to get drunk!  Of course my parents never had alcohol in their house.

What about the time she ran away from home to follow the Carnies who were just in town?  She almost made it to Chicago!

How did she get away with all of this seeing how our parents were strict Christians?
They were always mad at her.  She would sass them back, but mostly she was always spending the night at a friends house.  That's how she got away with her actions.  I remember one time mom trying to discipline her and as she tried to just walk away, mom ripped the shirt off her back!

When we were older, probably in our 30's or so, I mentioned to her that she was my idol when we were kids.  She said "I don't even remember anything about you"!

What a bitch!

Wednesday, April 17, 2013


Today a memory arrived in the mail.    A package from my Dad, a painting of me when I was 10 years old.

We lived in Springfield, MO during the early 1970's and Dad was an editor of a magazine called YOUTH ALIVE.

One day while visiting Dad at his office, the photographer came in and suggested that a photo of me looking sad would go along with this article called A SHADOWED RECOLLECTION.  It's a short story about a 9 year old girl whose mother is killed in a car crash.  He told me to look out the window and to think of something sad, thus my sad look.  At the time I felt very special being asked to do this and to be in a magazine.

I had totally forgotten about this day, but when I opened the many memories came flooding back.  I recall the feeling of being proud of my Dad for having an important job in a nice office building.  How the other workers came into his office smiling and with suggestions for the magazine.  Seeing my handsome Dad in his suit.  Having the photo taken.

I loved my life in Missouri.  We lived in a suburb that was built in the woods.  So much exploring and playing with the other kids in the neighborhood.  Rollerskating, swimming, pets, Barbies, climbing trees, motorcycles, slumber parties.................

Our lives changed drastically in a few years with a move to Arizona.  So along with the good memories, I started to think about bad things.  I had a physical reaction that began with my heart thudding in my chest, tears welling up and a dizzy feeling.  So I spent the afternoon having a therapy session with my husband and then desperately needing cocktails.  Maybe someday I will have the courage to share some of the life changing events here on my blog.  It's crazy how I can get so triggered by a photo to go from good memories to feeling like I need a Psychiatrist.

The painting of me was done by my Dad OWL.  He kept this issue all these years and regardless of what I said above, I am touched by his gesture and appreciative of this memory.