Mendocino as seen from a distance….

In less than an hour I will be driving to San Francisco in order to get up early for the outdoor market in Alameda tomorrow. I will be home late afternoon the same day. I have read your comments on my last post, and I have to say they have given me so much to think about. I am so attached to all of you in so many ways. All the comments were thoughtful, wise, and strong. What an incredible group of women you all are. I can hardly wait to sit down and respond to each of you individually. Thank you so much for reading this lengthy post. I will try and get back to all of you this evening. I feel so fortunate to know all of you. You are a true inspiration in so many ways!

As I get older I become more set in my ways. Some are tolerable, as viewed by others, something I often find amusing. However, parts of me, huge parts are more personal. I view these as having been with me for a lifetime. In other words they seem so entrenched in my being it would be difficult for me to change any of them. I wear these ideas as if they were my skin. Perhaps they are just this. Maybe they are even part of my DNA. That said, I am not looking for an excuse to make the following pronouncement. I love being feminine!

For many years, especially during the ’80′s, I read lots of feminist literature, some very radical and forward-thinking. I focused on this subject because I truly believed that women should be equal in every way, especially in terms of education and career opportunities. I still believe this. I think women should be able to have as many degrees as they want and also grab any and all careers that they are yearning to master. Maybe this is a worn out subject, so I will not go any further with the politics of this. What prompted me to write on this subject was a comment I received awhile back from an Italian woman, Angela, who lives in Rome. She had seen my post on “Clothing for Us” and was kind enough to leave a very insightful comment. I could not forget what she said and how it suddenly took me back to the women’s movement in the early ’60′s and where we have gone, as women and men in our thinking. Some of it seems to have backfired in quite a number of ways.

Here is Angela’s comment:
“What a pleasure and comfort to find a blog like yours. I especially agree with the ‘age renaissance’, our wish for a rebirth after a life spent to seduce, attract, be conformed, respond to other’s demands. The elder age is finally for us, but free from the horrible grey, brown, black. I live in Rome, I’m Italian, and I feel that our sense of elegance cannot be expressed only through colors which deprive us of our fullness of life, here color is something transgressive, if chosen by an older lady. I’ve decided to not dye my hair anymore, and people are really astonished. But I’m feeling great!”

What shocked me about Angela’s comment was that her culture has not moved one bit from a female bias against aging women. I know in our country it is still a problem and, further, in another correspondence I had with Angela, she informed me that sewing and craft were not something that women would promote because it was not seen as “intellectual”. I was hoping this idea was changing since I see sewing coming back and women embracing this as a hobby or as a small business venture. Perhaps other countries are or will never see this as an avenue for women to find pride or comfort or a livelihood. However, there is too much discrepancy in our politics as women. We need to support all women in whatever field or form of living that we decide to express. That is true feminism.

So what are we born to be…..scientists, doctors, lawyers, engineers, educators (teachers), social workers, nurses, politicians? Is everything else considered beneath us….full-time mothers, actresses, artists, writers, seamstresses, quilt makers, gardeners ((and not always master gardeners), weavers……I have been tormented with these thoughts for years now. When Angela came to me and disclosed her feelings, I was grateful and yet saddened.

I find these early photos of my granddaughter so refreshing. Would you guess she was boy in the first one? I doubt it. In the second, she is what she is today and yet most parents have a fear of femininity, as if it is a curse. Sarah, my granddaughter, has
always been drawn to whatever is frilly, pink, or girlish and soft. Is this alarming to me that she perhaps will not be able to make it in the world of tough business and intellectual debate? Absolutely not. Will I gasp in horror if she decides she wants to learn how to sew or knit? Never.

About twelve years ago when my husband and I were buying a condominium in San Francisco, the real estate agent asked me what I did for a living. At the time I was not working since we had just re-located due to a transfer with my husband’s company. (Yes, I know I moved for him, but this is sometimes a balanced option for two people in a marriage.) I told her I was sewing and gardening a lot in Mendocino until we could settle in the city again. She was shocked that I would even admit to sewing. She made it perfectly clear that she never learned to sew a button on clothing because she would never admit to anyone that she even knew how to sew. To her it was considered a handicap. I have never forgotten this encounter and how it seemed to exemplify how women in Western culture have limited their options as well as their assets by refuting anything that might suggest a feminine liability. I find this both disheartening and alarming.

This subject was so huge, I hardly knew how to grasp it. I decided to begin with this part and then explore in the next segment how women can and need to retrieve the other parts of themselves that seem to have been thrown out with the lace and the softness.

Artist: Adolphe-William Bouguereau

I am in Mendocino and am returning to Portland early tomorrow morning. I have tried in earnest to comment on posts plus my own, but my signal is intermittent at best. I will be back online tomorrow evening after I get home. Please forgive what seems to be a negligence. Until then….I hope this gets published. I am off to bed for a long trip home. Thank you for your comments. I will be back to visit soon.

I am feeling a little rusty the last few days, needing an outdoor break I think, a long hike in the woods. I have been inside too much perhaps, and glued to my computer or sorting and labeling and pricing and well…too rusty for words. Guess I need a Sunday to unhinge and let my brain rest on idle for one day.

I would like to glide in the wind as these birds are doing or….

rest easy in one of these serene and lovely places. I will be here in my mind until Monday reading a good book by the fire and taking a little break from the technical world. I hope you all are having an easy and comfortable weekend.

In Melody Fortier’s book I pictured in my last post, she extols the virtues of the vintage coat. In her chapter titled ” Categories of Clothing” starting on page 29, she writes that “Vintage outerwear is definitely the best value for your dollar. The fabrics alone are usually worth more than what you pay for a comparable new garment, and many of the beautiful wools and weaves are no longer available. Cashmere coats top the list. The cashmere used in vintagewear was collected (harmlessly, mind you) from cashmere goats living in the wild in such countries as India and Mongolia. Their modern domesticated counterparts simply do not produce the same fine, silky fur” and she goes on to say that “made with better fabrics and superior construction, vintage coats wear amazingly well and look beautiful forever if properly cleaned and stored”.

I found this coat many years ago in a vintage shop owned by an local actress in San Diego that had the most interesting pieces I had ever come across. Unfortunately, she closed her shop to return to acting full time, but before she closed her doors, she gave me a huge box of vintage patterns because she knew that I loved to sew and was so fascinated with her incredible eye for style and great pieces.

The coat has two labels.

And it also had a consumer protection label, that said “National Coat and Suit Industry” and “National Recovery Board” with FWG, as well as “Manufactured Under Fair Labor Standards”. According to Melodie, “The National Recovery Act, in effect in the United States from 1933 to 1935, served to promote fair competition in business as well as fair labor. Some manufactures had labels put into their products to indicate they were in compliance with these guidelines”. So I think it is fair to say that this coat was made sometime during those two years.

I used to wear this coat, but not so much anymore. I am thinking of taking the lambswool off since it is deteriorating and replacing it with somethings else. I am not sure what. I have become an advocate for the ethical welfare of animals, so wearing a piece such as this does not suit my standards anymore. I also refuse to wear any leather, including shoes, but this is a subject that will not serve my purpose on this blog. The lining is a nice rayon crepe with a good weight. It is also underlined with another loosely woven wool for added warmth.

This coat has a great style. I am drawn to anything with a raglan sleeve. Even more remarkable, the sleeve looks raglan from the back and set in with a seam from the front. I have never seen this treatment before in any other pieces. I found this in an antique and collectibles shop in a rural farm town south of Portland, Oregon. It was marked down in price from an already fair one, and as it was spring, the owner probably felt it would not sell in the nicer weather. It is extremely well made with a beautiful heavy satin lining and bound button holes which I love, and you rarely see unless it is a couture or designer piece.

This coat is a perfect fit and looks great with jeans or skirts and tights.

Labels have always fascinated me and this is a great one!

One of the things I have found in wearing vintage styles is that it is important to pair it with something edgy or trendy so you don’t look frumpy or out-dated. Layering is good too with funky accessories to give the whole look a sharp feel. Once I made the mistake of wearing a black vintage cocktail dress to a holiday function with a vintage rhinestone necklace, and my hair in a french twist and was uncomfortable all night. The look was too predictable and virtuous and staid. You really don’t want to look like the minister’s wife sipping a cocktail.

Tomorrow I will cut out the skirt and begin to plan some other clothes for spring and summer out of some old linen pieces that I have in my collection. I will post the process of the skirt as I plan, cut, and sew.

Jeanette is getting help from her bridesmaids with the many buttons and loops down the back of her dress. Tiny and tight, I could not even button a single one. I guess it takes young, agile fingers.

The back of Jeanette’s hair done by her stepsister, Jen.

A very proud mom.

The bride and groom just after the ceremony.

Jeanette, Ben and the groomsmen heading to the reception.

Jeanette and her sister, Linsey on the dancefloor.

Jeanette’s brother, Wes, winding down after the reception.

We are starting the drive back north today. I slept ten hours straight last night. It will be a slow but pleasant recovery sprinkled with memories of this perfect fairy tale wedding.

I have been quite absent from other blogs lately. My days now are completely taken with sewing projects for the wedding that is scheduled a week from today. I have finished my dress and matching jacket with the exception of the dress hem and the jacket trim. Today I completed three of the tablecloths for the reception and have ten more to sew.

I also finished the four sashes for the flower girls. They are hard to show, but they have a cummerbund band and will tie in a bow in the back. The ends have a touch of green silk to accent some of the other colors that are being used.

It never fails, when I get some fabric out on the table one of the cats has to sit in the middle of the project, usually on top of the tape measure……

Tomorrow I intend to do three more tablecloths and sew the trim on the jacket. I also hope to get on some blogs and see what the rest of the world is thinking and doing. I have missed that in the last few weeks. I will be a bit irregular on posting until after the wedding. Then I intend to get back to a more regular posting and visiting. I have appreciated your comments and loyalty even though I have been remiss in my visits. To bed. It is midnight and there is lots of sewing to do tomorrow.

I must admit, I have two magazine indulgences that provide me with ongoing inspiration and worthy daydreams, Selvedge and The World of Interiors, both published in England. If I had to give up one or the other, it would be with deep regret.

Nearly two years ago, a fact the astonishes me, I came across an article in The World of Interiors of a French woman who inspired me in such a way that I have never forgotten. Her name, Manon Gignoux, seemed to spell out something noble and deserving of attention. The article was not long enough to satisfy my craving for more information on her and her art and life. It was not simply that I am drawn to most anything having to do with France, but that she represented a life so fine and her objectives so meritorious and focused. I have read and re-read this article more times than I am willing to admit. I am drawn to her for numerous reasons.

I would love to post a photo of her, but feel as if I do not have this right. Simply imagine her. The article written by Marie-France Boyer says she has “the grace of a Bonnard figure, her curls escaping into wayward locks and her blue eyes that can take on the intensity of steel, Manon is a rather wild individual.” Her medium that she employs is vintage textiles. She recyles, re-purposes textiles and clothing, something of which I am thoroughly fascinated.

In her own words she says, ‘In the kitchen and in the studio I do the same work: I recycle things. Food brings me scraps, crumbs and leftover, and clothes can take me down to fragments too.’

“Indeed, to create the clothing, accessories or costumes that she makes today, Manon transforms, restructures, deconstructs, reinterprets, layers, stitches, restitches and redesigns old clothes and textiles that she has picked up, salvaged and stockpiled, then sorted, classified and organised with great care into ‘series’ according to their material and colour. ‘Sometimes, I find it oppressive to have too many archives,’ she says. ‘These objects take over my life, but on the other hand, I do know exactly what I have and the aim it to recycle everything. Sometimes, it’s strange, but I feel it almost a duty to conserve and pass on all these old textiles.’

Whatever she does, whenever I re-read this article and look at the photos, I am drawn into the reason for my love of old textiles, fragments, and worn and sometimes shredded leftovers. Manon is a woman of my own heart in so many ways. We share a love that is simply inexplicable to some and immediately comprehensible to others. It is where I am going in the months ahead with my old and cherished clothing and textiles. I will soon be posting more on this (after the wedding).

NOTE: You may click on the photos to enlarge.

P.S. I have noticed that some of my comments do not correspond to the person in my reply to everyone. I am not sure how this happened, but please scroll down if you do not see any reply to one of your comments on this post.

I am wishing everyone a new year filled with creative fulfillment with many dreams and longings that entice you to take some unique journeys in your mind and heart. Imagine. Be bold. Risk. The days and months go by all too quickly. I am planning to accomplish some things this year that involve all of these things.

Thank you everyone for your support and encouragement and wisdom. I am looking forward to this year of continued friendship and exploration. This blog and all of yours has been like a gift to me…..a very special gift. Happy New Year!

Every year since we moved to Portland we can count on some snow, maybe a lot once, twice if we are lucky. For me this occasion is perfect bliss. The minute I can see it is going to stick, I get ready for a long walk. Only rain was predicted for today, but when I went for my usual early morning walk, I came home with my hands partly frozen even though I was wearing gloves. Around 2 PM as I ran in the grocery store for a few things, I looked up and saw some snow flakes, just a few. By the time I came out to my car, five or so minutes later, it looked like a blizzard.

I opened our upstairs bedroom window so my Willie could enjoy the beauty!

By the time it was sufficiently sticking, I knew it was time to head out the door for my snow-walk. I headed up to my favorite park, Mt Tabor. Few people were out, and cars were slipping and sliding, a few city buses were stranded. No one was prepared. The weather forecast had been for rain with no snow in sight.

When I reached the top of Mt Tabor I heard voices and saw a few couples with dogs or kids playing in the snow. On my hike down it was quiet and devoid of people save one lone bicyclist heading up the road to the reservoir. I stopped and took a few photos.

When I was little and living on the east coast in upstate New York, we used to spend our summers in Oregon visiting family. My cousin lived with this park in her back yard and we used to go up to Mt Tabor and walk around the reservoir pretending we were in another world, a castle in the sky.

Two hours later I arrived home to find the garden and house much more beautiful than when I had departed. Snow was gently perched on every bush, fence, and framework. I felt that a little peace of heaven came to visit and truly warm my heart with its magic crystals.

Some wishes are granted.

In a few hours I will go out and go for a late night walk around the block before heading to bed. I can never get enough of this blanket of white that comes so infrequently. It is when one realizes the best things in life are often ephemeral, melting away to be replaced by memory.