ADVICE - detritus from the interwebs, and things your mother didn't teach you, but probably should have . . .

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the internet is full these days of sites ripe with visual offerings.

designers sharing their wares.

bloggers offering opinions.

teens sharing their shopping finds, their nudity, their thoughts.

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at times, it's too random.

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at times, the random offers up some really choice gems.

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if i've learned anything, it's that one of my biggest strengths lies in editing.

sorting through all the options,

and distilling a p.o.v.

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love it or hate it,

it's a skill.

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here are some recent posters and postings

that made me smile:

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there are several people i wanted to mail this to.

only no one reads their mail anymore.

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which is why i have always pretended to be

the version of me

i wanted.

it works.

try it.

now.

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this one you have to stick to a bit.

but it pans out in the end rather well.

self worth = commercial worth

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fabulous takeoff of the "keep calm and carry on" poster.

and i love the cary grant cool.

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um.

i have a list of people this should be sent to.

instead,

i will post it here.

moving on . . .

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amen.

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and then,

my favorite.

this goes out to my mother and sister,

both of whom could have invented this phrase.

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EN ROUTE : the perils of travel to san francisco

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during a recent trip to sf,

tim and i were delayed six hours.

due to "weather",

which typically means FOG,

in a city where fog is the norm.

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tim and i flew into chicago in the middle of full on arctic gales

with nary a bump,

but sf?

fog = total shut down.

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drives me bats.

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add a screaming child in the packed lounge

who thought it fun to climb BETWEEN the seats and run around

while his toothless mother mumbled into her cup of coffee,

well,

i was HERE:

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so, 

not to brag,

but just to make a point,

please note how i dress when i travel.

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i think this is a good point.

my mother always made us dress up when we went on a plane,

whether to london or to pennsylvania,

there was a code.

it was travel.

it was civilized.

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and yes, i love my orange bag too.

well, tim's bag,

but i co-opt it.

often.

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anyway, there i was, about to shoot something.

perhaps myself.

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finally we board.

and we are walking to the plane,

and tim turns to me,

all big eyed,

and starts nodding to the left,

saying

"get your camera get your camera get your camera".

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i mean,

really.

i feel for her,

then i see the bunion pad,

and i think

sorry, no excuses grandma.

put the feet away,

and give beyonce her bag back.

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this?

this is just a picture of hilary duff in lanvin heels with a birkin.

i'm not making a point,

i'm just soothing my eyes.

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i am oft reminded of my place in life -

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primarily,

that my desk chair is merely a place i am 

ALLOWED

to share.

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what is often waiting in the window -

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patient little bringer of peace,

trumpeter of your return,

fierce first hugger:

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we call her "avec".

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SHOPPING TIL IT HURTS : BLACKMAN CRUZ, LOS ANGELES

there is beautiful,

there is edgy,

and then there is the synthesis of the two.

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here is where the store blackman/cruz has always come in.

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they don't just find antiques,

they find objects,

items of fascination,

not precious curiousities for cabinets alone,

but things you want to touch, feel, and live with.

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there is something at times dark about their sensibility,

but it is always elegant,

always unique.

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a large fly, yes, but in bronze.

a cucumber in silver.

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the perfect posing stool,

or a lens from an old movie projector, mounted, divine!

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a ZEBRA from  a carousel,

mugshots in a line,

antique sculpting tools:

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lenses from an optical shop,

an outdoor section with a horse/tricycle:

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even antique dog collars.

all in all,

a unique world view:

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