Magic Windows #8
by angeliska on December 23, 2009
Magic Windows are portals into the strange and beautiful
world I inhabit, and the marvelous people, places and things
come across in my day to day – all captured with the aid
of my handy magic celephone (it’s an iPhone).
I often take pictures of things I see while
I’m at work at Uncommon Objects, an emporium of
wondrous and rare treasures. If you see something
here that you covet, there’s a fair chance that it might
be available for sale – just drop me a line or ring the shop.
The Magic Windows series originated as an attempt
to capture the ephemeral objects and fleeting moments
I experience, and share them here on a weekly basis.
Stay posted for the next one, won’t you?
Savage Lipstick, baby. Wicked red. Isn’t this just the best? J’adore.
Oh pink cupcake of death, your edible glitter was so alluring,
and yet – you were not so tasty! I could only eat half, and to my
way of thinking, there’s not much sadder than a half eaten cupcake.
A cupcake should be something you gobble up, and then immediately
start wishing for another. The cupcake glut has left us awash in inferior
specimens – but I ask you, how the hell do you screw up a cupcake?
It’s not that complicated, so when you have a bad one, it really
seems like a travesty. I’d rather have pie, honestly. Thoughts?
This beautiful embroidery on sheer lace panels made us think
of Miss Dawn from Boudoir Queen – expect to see it transformed into
a gown or fantastic bit of frippery soon, unless of course it’s gracing
the walls or windows of her legendary boudoir, eh? Ooh-la-la!
Pink stars + glad tidings to you, kittens.
Merrie, merrie! Yet another year that I for the most part totally neglect
to send out any sort of holiday cards – though I do have some now!
Ah, next year! I am really endeavoring to not neglect my correspondence
in the coming turning. Stamps, sealing wax, stationary ahoy!
I love letters, and all the accompanying accoutrements,
and I love receiving mail more than almost anything.
I was instructed in my youth that if I wanted to get mail,
I’d have to send some, and that is very true advice indeed.
What a pretty and demure (though very stained!) little belle.
I’d like to see the Gibson Girl hairstyle come back into vogue sometime.
I could not believe my eyes when I saw this Victorian blouse
covered in laceworked swastikas. I knew at once that it had
to be mine! Here it hangs in my studio, where the sun is
probably going to dry-rot it – but it looks so lovely in silhouette!
In the 1900’s (and for about 3000 years before that)
the swastika was good luck symbol used all over the world.
It’s sad and strange to me to think of how symbols and sigils
can hold so much power, and how they can be perverted
and changed to mean something quite opposite.
A lot of my recent work concerns transitive meanings,
and this delicate blouse is a good reminder of that.
By the by, my lineage and personal political views
are about as distasteful to the Third Reich as a soul
could get. Had I lived during the Holocaust, my jacket
would be covered in so many various star and triangle
patches they would have run out of room. Very glad
I live in the time I do. There are some interesting articles
about the swastika symbol out there: Wikipedia’s of
course is very thorough, and Lucky Mojo has some
great images of Victorian postcards and beadwork.
One time we had an old bottle of Swastika brand
whiskey in the store. It attracted a lot of questions,
until one day someone ripped the label off.
Grrizelda chewed my bra in half. Who could be mad at
that face for long, though? I think she did it intentionally,
as if to say, “Dang, mama! Your draws are pitiful!
Man oh man, do you need some new lingerie!”
My underthings are in a sad state of affairs.
Obviously, I’d love to have nothing but Agent Provocateur
and Kiki de Montparnasse, or especially the delicious
frippery from Hopeless Hotel, oh wouldn’t I just?
My drawers-drawer needs a makeover, people.
Send me frilly things, toute-suite! For real.
I was raised by my dad, and am not a busty lady
so I never went bra shopping until I was an adult.
I can actually still fit in my first bra ever!
I still have it! Crazy. I think I need some sort of
intervention. Is there an underwear makeover
show out there for me? Oh dear, I bet there is.
Winter Solstice – Messe de Minuit
by angeliska on December 21, 2009
Happy Winter Solstice, beloveds!
It’s not especially chilly here yet, though
it has gotten a little frost-spangled some nights,
the tease of recent snowfall amounted to only
a meagre flurry. That being said, I’m grateful to
know that the days will be longer from here on out.
The thin silver scythe in the sky and all blackened
wraiths in our garden caution me that it may get colder
yet. Bundle up, little rabbits! I get cold so easily, I have
to have almost every bit of skin covered. I’ve considered
even bringing back the ski-mask balaclava. It’s only
recently that I’ve started to get the hang of layering
properly without looking like a lumpy snowman.
There’s some evidence of my progress down below
a bit, thankfully not looking too lumpen or rumpled!
I got caught up earlier staring for way too long at
National Geographic’s hypnotic Patterns in Nature series:
Frost covers the windshield of a car in Tuscarora, Nevada.
Photograph by David Boyer
Snow covers an orchard in the United States.
Photograph by Richard Olsenius
Bare trees cast lacy likenesses on Kunming Lake in Beijing, China.
Photograph by Macduff Everton
The other night, I was invited to two costume parties:
the first was a 60’s-70’s themed holiday bash, and the
other was a Peter Pan/Lost Boys birthday party.
My conundrum was to come up with something appropriate
for both, and also warm. I went with a witchy-progrock-cult
member-medieval look that is probably more 80’s looking
than anything else, but what the hell. I’m pretty obsessed
with my new peruvian wool poncho, and having been wearing
it every day. I used to borrow my step-mama’s cloaks and
suede wrap-boots (man, I miss those!) and wander the woods
after reading piles of Elfquest comics. (Did you know you can read
ALL the old issues online? True. Very dangerous! Oh those Pinis!)
Yeah, I probably carried a staff and definitely was fervently wishing
at all times that I had pointy ears and four fingers and that the
elves on their wolves would come and rescue my from my
adolescent misery. Anybody else with me on that?
This is me, on the moon. In my backyard. Wearing the beloved poncho,
apparently asleep. Clearly passed out on the ground (or the moon)
is my favorite pose. Yep. Stay tuned for more photos of me sleeping!
Poncho, scarf, leggings, boots = all thrifted. This is my uniform.
Not so much with the headband, though I do want to reclaim it
to it’s true glory. I’m working on revolutionizing them, and I promise
it won’t involve stretchiness, terrycloth, or being jammed down
over straightened bangs, okay? Just wait. It will be magical.
My darling Sienita left her Oaxacan gold earrings in my driveway
the day after Halloween, and I’ve been wearing them nonstop
ever since! I’m totally holding them hostage! The ransom is
100 pesos and a bottle of cherry-rum cordial, just so you know.
Witch witch witch.
Speaking of headbands, I remember being completely fixated
on the album artwork for Debbie Harry’s Kookoo.
Her face is the most perfect face, ever.
This image made such a huge impression
on me at a very young age, but I’ve never
actually listened to it! How odd. Have you?
Of course it’s by H.R. Giger! He also directed
two videos for this album, holy shit –
how have I never seen these before?
Crazy. I feel a Coilhouse post coming on!
Oh, and lest I forget – the time is nigh for winter perfumes, my darlings!
I discovered Messe de Minuit by Etro, and wear it nearly everyday.
It smells divine mixed with CB I Hate Perfume’s Burning Leaves,
with a touch of Wild Hunt. Messe de Minuit = Midnight Mass,
and for me that conjures images of abandoned churches,
Satanic rites, sexy witches, and freaky monks. Also, Hexmas!
You gotta love Etro’s own rather purple description:
“The magic flute that conquers darkness.
A boys’ choir on Christmas night.
The gleam of a Templar sword.
Alchemy and perfume, the perpetual oscillation
that lulls Merlin to sleep in the forest of Broceliande.
Messe de Minuit is primarily incense tempered
by notes of vanilla, myrrh, and cinnamon.
Woody and spicy, it is a mystical escape
from the ordinary male stereotype.”
Oh, really? Phallic much?
The main notes are:
Orange, bergamot, tangerine,
labdanum, incense, myrrh, cinnamon,
patchouli, honey, amber, musk, vanilla
There are a lot of conflicting reviews about
this one, and they’re all worth reading:
Bois de Jasmine – Messe de Minuit
Jorge de Burgos Would Approve: Messe de Minuit by Etro
Frangrantica – Messe de Minuit by Etro
Victoria’s Own – Messe de Minuit
“Snow is the most dramatic and exciting aspect
of winter in the Northern hemisphere,
dressing the world with a white gown of sparkling snowflakes.
Fête d’Hiver is my winter fantasy, with fluffy powdery snow
on a fur collar, and burning incense and cedar in the fireplace
in a little cabin in the middle of the woods.
Her brother, Bois d’Hiver smells like bringing in a fir tree
along with a trail of cold snow air from outside.
Both perfumes have a foundation of frankincense, myrrh and amber,
and have enough spices and orange peel to make them smell
almost like pomander, mulled wine and church incense.
But in both cases I tried to stay away from the usual
holiday clichés by adding a little twist: rose and gardenia notes
in Fête d’Hiver, and orange blossom and fir absolute in Bois d’Hiver.”
-by Ayala Sender of Ayala Moriel Parfums
I’m intrigued by Ayala Moriel’s
winter scents, especially from her description
found at the Scented Salamander’s winter and fall
perfumes post. I return to that one again and again:
I love reading about Christopher Brosius’
wintery concoctions. I’m really craving his Gingerbread
perfume, and wondering why I haven’t ordered
any yet! His Winter 1972 calls to me also –
it’s the scent of “fields of untouched new fallen snow,
hand knit woolen mittens covered with frost,
a hint of frozen forest & sleeping earth”
What are you wearing now that the
weather’s turned blustery?
See also:
Favourite Winter Fragrances from Bois de Jasmine
Winter Solstice – Dark Season
Snow Maidens
Indigo Honey
by angeliska on December 16, 2009
(Photo by Jane Aldridge)
I adore this image captured in Coco Chanel’s gorgeously appointed
apartment in Paris. What a dream come true, to explore her domain!
I dreamt the other night that a was drinking Chanel No. 5
out of a big teacup. In my dreams, I have
a golden indigo lacquered screen like that!.
(p.s. I just noticed that the formatting on the
following photos is wonked, but if you click
on the title or comments, you can see them
nice and big and not all squashed, okay?)
Ghosts of Shopping Past
(Photograph by Brian Ulrich)
Driving down the highway recently, we were having
a conversation about the death of the shopping mall,
about our early memories of seeing the first outdated
dinosaurs succumb to desolation, and now the mega-
malls go too. Fluorescent lit juggernauts of excess,
crumbling into disrepair, wishing wells moldering,
atriums and kiosks all abandoned. It’s interesting.
Remember this? I can’t say I’ll be missing the
food court, or the shops – I honestly haven’t really
been in a mall in years, save emergency in-outs
to the Apple store that end in me being hustled out
of Sephora by my fella, who hates being in malls
even more than me. Way more, actually.
So what will become of these hulking behemoths?
Disintegration or re-purposing? It’s hard to say.
(This and the following photograph, both by Palani Mohan)
Mr. Saturnic is always a great source of
incredible photography spreads, I was
swooning over Palani Mohan’s
Vivid – Colours of Asia series he posted over there.
Out of them all, she is my favorite.
I wish I could hop inside the frame,
and be her friend. I would already
speak Tibetan, and be perfectly
acclimated to thin air, and dressed
warmly. Out to milk the mountain
goats and welcome home the
honey hunters! One day.
✷ Stoat uses hypnotic weasel war dance.
✷ Making Ferrofluids work for you!
✷ Jewelled butterflies and cephalopods
from John Coulthart’s Feuilleton
✷ Coilhouse Issue 04 is coming out soon –
I cannot wait! In the meantime though,
check out all the intriguing small businesses
that have taken out ads (especially excellent
if you are still hunting for last minute treats
like I am…) there’s a lot there to pique + delight.
✷ One last thing from the lovely
Joanna Ebenstein at Morbid Anatomy
My New Favorite Magazine : Lapham’s Quarterly
I must get my paws on a copy, soonly!
Magic Windows #7
by angeliska on December 11, 2009
It’s high time for a Magic Windows update, wouldn’t you say?
As always, all photos were taken with my magic telephone
camera (which explains the not-so-hot quality, eh?) It sure
is handy, though! All the photos were taken at Uncommon
Objects, and many of the items pictured are available for purchase.
Except, of course, the items that I am rabidly coveting –
unless you happen to want to surprise me! Hee.
Speaking of surprise gifts, I got two of the best ones
the other day – I love coming into work and discovering
unexpected treats from friends. Very happymaking!
Especially when the first one was this disembodied, burnt
human hand delivered to me in a fancy marshmallow box!
Just what I always wanted! No, really – it’s true. I’m thinking
this guy was part of a medical model, judging from the
articulating spring and wires and such. Lots of those floating
around New Orleans, from whence this one came – hand
delivered by flame-haired courier, a gift from the illustrious
and beautiful Miss Nina Carolina! What a sweetheart!
Right after that, another wee giftie was delivered!
Yes, it’s a keychain from Dollywood with my name on it,
so killer. I adore Dolly Parton extremely, and one of
my lifelong dreams is to get to Dollywood sometime real soon.
My friend LuCretia went there, and how cool is she for
remembering me? I jumped up and down and squealed
and did a happy dance. If you’re in Austin, go check out
LuCretia’s bad-ass vintage store Room Service on North Loop!
Let the lustful coveting commence with this latest addition
to the very top of my good-girl wishlist: a big black rooster!
We’ve been making lots of naughty jokes about this guy,
which I won’t repeat here – in the interest of good taste, ha!
I’ve been obsessing over this folk carved shelf for a long time.
Of course, the picture doesn’t even begin to do it justice,
but you can make out the deer and the squirrels –
and at the top? Angels with trumpets. Yeah, that’s right.
This thing really needs to be mine. It’s so perfect.
I collect paraphernalia from the Order of the Eastern Star,
and I’d have to say that this giant lit up sign is the crown jewel
of any Eastern Star collection I’ve ever come across.
It’s hand-painted with flowers and arcane symbols,
and it kind of needs to live in my parlour. One day!
These guys are just creepy. I don’t want them at all, but I can’t
stop looking at them. Clowns really are disturbing (I know lots
of them, so I can say this from first-hand experience) and that
chubble head is just hilarious. Hilariously creepy! Yay.
I love these wonderful string stars. There’s quite a few of them
in the shop right now. I just went to see The Road (so amazing,
and brutal), and something about this man’s face reminds me
of an amalgam of some of the faces in that film. I loved the book,
and I thought they did a fantastic job converting in into film.
Look at this little lady, with her dirty, dour face. I love her
pensive, almost mischievous expression. How’d you get
so filthy, little boudoir doll? Somehow, I must resist her!
The eye imagery on Oddfellows gear always gets me.
Eyes, the heart in the hand, and the beehive are really
powerful symbols for me. The linked chain is great too,
symbolizing the FLT of friendship, love and truth.
This embroidery popping out against black velvet is
so strong. This tunic will be on a plane to Tokyo
soon enough, no doubt – the Japanese vintage buyers
always snap these up lickety-split. They make great
winter coats, if you wear them backwards, I find.
What are you coveting right now?
Have you been good this year?
I certainly hope so!
Autumnal Perfumes
by angeliska on December 1, 2009
Due to the seasonal lag caused by my propinquity to the equator
and global warming, it’s really just barely beginning to feel like a
true autumn. The leaves here do change color a bit, though nothing
so stunning as what the lucky folks up north get. Still, it pleases me
to see the sumac and pears turning red and flaming, the big pecans
all wreathed in yellow. A big gust of rain sends them twirling down,
their tattered finery littering my doorstep.
Awhile back I promised a post
of my favorite autumnal scents, and I realized last night, in the last
fleeting hours of November, that I had better get to it before it is time to
start writing about wintery perfumes! It’s hard to fathom that it’s December
already, especially when I’ve only had to wear a coat once or twice so far.
http://dlennis.wordpress.com/
This is the season when everything grows darker,
and I find myself attracted to heavier, richer smells
of burnished wood, spices and comforting treats.
Many of my deepest memories are awakened
by the aroma of a sudden cold breeze,
a waft of cinnamon, wet earth, bonfires.
Capturing these without cloying or too
heavy-handed is very difficult, but there are
a few who really succeed. I’m always excited to
try new things, so if there are any you love
tell me, do! To be honest, autumnal scents
are what I want to wear most of the time,
but they are not always appropriate for warm
weather. I love rich, dark and spicy perfumes,
thick with russian leather, smoky tea,
and woods of all kinds. I think I also need
to find a good in-between seasons stand-by.
I’m leaning towards Diptyque’s Tam Dao,
an elegant dry sandalwood which I am
adding to my dream wishlist.
I’ve been wearing a combination of my
all time favorites lately, as they blend
nicely together and seem to last longer
when worn that way. Sometimes I’ll also
dab on a little essential oil to boost it up
a few notches: usually Oakmoss, Myrrh,
Texas Cedarwood, Frankincense or Vetiver.
Roots by Oshadhi
This is my all-time favorite number one smell.
Absolutely my signature scent! (I try not to be too
territorial about it, but it’s weird to smell it on someone else…)
I’m out of it right now, actually, and that’s just not right.
It’s sort of hard to find, so if you ever come across it
and want to make me incredibly happy,
this is one fail-safe method!
When I was in New York earlier this fall,
I had the opportunity to visit CB I Hate Perfume,
the haven of smell and memory created by
Christopher Brosius. He is a delightful genius!
Keep an eye out for my interview with him in
the upcoming issue of Coilhouse Magazine.
All of the blends below are ideal for Fall,
and there are quite a few more there I’m lusting
after, Cedarwood Tea and Gingerbread in particular.
Burning Leaves
I’ve been wearing this one every day.
It’s the smell burning maple leaves, pure and simple.
“Not everyone has your passion for dead leaves.”
Jane Austen – Sense & Sensibility
I do! I find it to be totally intoxicating.
The Wild Hunt
“Wild Hunt is the scent of an ancient forest
in the heat of a summer afternoon.
It is a blend of Torn Leaves, Crushed Twigs,
Flowing Sap, Fallen Branches, Old Leaves,
Green Moss, Fir, Pine and Tiny Mushrooms.”
It is a wholly feral scent – a perfume for beasts!
M3 November
“Pumpkin Pie, Fallen Apples, Bonfire, Wood Smoke,
Dried Grass, Fallen Leaves, Wet Branches, Damp Moss,
Chanterelle Mushrooms and a hint of Pine Forest”
I have a little sample of this one that I’ve been playing with –
it’s a very complex, layered perfume that makes me feel
simultaneously cold and cozy. Very delicious.
This is my favorite photo of Vali Myers,
who is my number one witch-woman inspiration and style icon.
She was an Australian sorceress-artist from Australia who lived
in on the Rive Gauche in Paris, in the Chelsea Hotel in NYC
(her art still hangs there!) and in a castle on the beach in Positano, Italy.
She had pet foxes and lots of young lovers, and I would have given
my left pinky toe to have met her before she died. I’ve been thinking
about foxes a lot, since seeing Neko, and also Fantastic Mr. Fox.
If you haven’t seen it yet, I must entreat you to go, as it is so very
sweet and happymaking with lots of dancing animals
and a gorgeous autumnal palette. It cheered me up immensely,
and now I must go find a copy of the book, which I haven’t ever read
though I adore Roald Dahl. Have you read it, or seen the film? Thoughts?
There are some more gourmand perfumes
I’ve been intrigued by- I have samples of both
of these, but found them slightly too sweet.
I tend to wear men’s colognes, so I need
a bit of danger in there! Some cojones, eh?
Tea for Two by L’Artisan –
“Tea for Two celebrates the precious moment
of sharing tea and spicy bread with someone special.
The curling steam of smoky Lapsang Souchong
hides mouthwatering spices of cinnamon, ginger and anise.
Lightly sweetened by honey and vanilla,
the fragrance is fiery and warm, provocative and mysterious.
Deliciously spicy!
Notes: smoky tea, bergamot, cinnamon, ginger, honey, vanilla”
I really want to adore this one, because the name
and description make me think of the last afternoon
my grandfather and I spent in Brussels.
After exploring the fabulous flea markets,
vintage shops and art nouveau architecture
we found the most delightful little tea-shop
to sit and nibble fancy sandwiches and
petit-fours in. One of my happiest memories
ever is thinking of my grandfather and I
waiting for a taxi afterwards, he in his
wheelchair and me doing a little dance
as we sang “Tea for Two” together.
Speaking of Belgium and magical women, the lovely Mlle. Viona
is from there. I love this image of her, even though it’s one of her
less elaborate ensembles – The Grain Girl is just perfection.
Now go and spend hours poring over her incredible costumes
and photographs, if you haven’t already – I promise you’ll thank me later!
Five O’Clock Au Gingembre by Serge Lutens
The Black Luminous Intensity of Ginger
How fabulous is Mimi Frou Frou’s description of this magic elixir?
Um, very! You must go read all about it, but here’s an excerpt
for the nonce – just see if it doesn’t make you want to buy a bottle!
“The palette is gourmand but also composed
of dark tints and literally makes use of black,
a rare sensation in a perfume if not in the visual arts.
Having, consciously at least, forgotten about the insistence
on the color black in Serge Lutens’ description of the scent
in which he makes references to a black Rolls Royce
and a black Wedgwood tea service, one is reminded of it
suddenly as the unusual sensation of a ginger fragrance
that is both luminous and black suddenly unfolds,
letting out the sheen of a branch of jet-black coral.
It is like seeing the eclipse of a normal sensation,
be it the paleness of the moon
or the golden rays of the sun shutting down.
Five O’ Clock thus suggests the midnight-eclipse
version of a ginger fragrance losing its solar quality
to become bitumen-like, tarry, while some light is shone
into the composition anew thanks to citrus-y notes
and the golden glow of honey.
It is therefore a very sophisticated rendering of ginger.
Official notes and accords: bergamot, candied ginger,
honey, pepper, dark cocoa, meltingly soft cookie,
gingerbread, patchouli, vetiver.”
I bought a print of The String Game recently from Miss Katy Horan.
I fell in love with her artwork a while back,
and was thrilled to find out that she had moved to Austin.
Now we work together at Uncommon Objects,
which is fantastic. We have secret Ouija board
seance plans! Her new work featuring alien-witch
lace crones is very hypnotic. Very affordable prints
and such are available in her etsyshop, check it out!
(Uh-oh! I just realized that she’s sold out of everything!
Let’s all cross our fingers, and hope she restocks soon, mm?)
Has anyone tried
Bois d’Ombrie by Eau d’Italie yet?
It sounds incredible. WANT!
Here’s a wonderful description from Mlle. Victoria of Bois de Jasmin:
“The scent of Bois d’Ombrie has autumnal associations
given its nutty plumminess reminiscent of fallen leaves,
its smoky dryness evoking bonfires and its intoxicating
tangy sweetness conjuring the aroma of spiced wine.
I do not know why a fragrance inspired by Italian woods
would evoke an image of Ukrainian rainy autumns,
but for me this fact is undeniable. The somber chill
of iris gently leads into the honeyed warmth of leather
and tobacco. A dried plum note weaves in and out
of the composition, teasing like the refrain of a familiar
melody escaping from an open window.
Warm, mellow and slightly rustic,
Bois d’Ombrie dries down into a myrrh
dominated etude of leather and woods.”
Perfume blogs have become my guilty pleasure,
and I’ve discovered some wonderful writers out
there who seem to have similar taste to my own.
Here’s a couple more, expounding on their favorite
perfumes for Autumn weather – enjoy!
Autumn Smells
from Elena Vosnaki at Perfume Shrine
Perfume Cravings In The Fall: Cornucopia of Dark Fruits
from Marie-Helene Wagner aka. Mimi Frou Frou at The Scented Salamander
Be sure to also check out her five part series (!) on
North-American Originals: Perfumers on Fall & Winter.
So much amazing stuff there! I stand in awe, truly.
Huexoloti Honey
by angeliska on November 26, 2009
(Photo by Red-Star)
Turkeys are such strange birds. Ugly-beautiful,
and regal-ridiculous. Have you ever seen one flying wild?
It’s like a giant feathered cannonball shot through the woods.
Hilarious and shocking. We saw wild turkeys in Osyka Springs,
Mississippi when we used to go camping there. They are huge!
I feel bad about it, but I’m going to eat one today. Sorry Mr. Turkey!
“In the end, it seems that only the English dispensed completely
with both the American and the Indian origins of the huexoloti.
English importers dealt with the same Turkish merchants who
exported the huexoloti to Russia, to Iran, to Poland,
to The Netherlands, to Sweden, and even to India.
But the English, being English, did not need all of the pedigree
words that came along with the bird. They could not be bothered
with all of that linguistic falderal. The birds came from Turkish merchants—
“135 of the creatures bought at 4 shillings a piece” in 1555—
and, to describe what they were in his ledger,
the English importer created a new English word—“Turkies” (OED).
And, once again, the elastic vacuum cleaner that is the English language
got a new word and the huexoloti got a new and permanent name—
at least for the English speaking world.”
–“Our Turkish-American Thanksgiving Bird,”
by Larry E. Tise, History News Network
I found this, and many other fascinating Thanksgiving tidbits
from Harper’s links page. For hexmas, I plan on renewing my
Harper’s Weekly subscription. I hate the paper waste of magazines,
but I’m addicted. I read them in the bath. I have a subscription to
Interview magazine, Lucky (which was free, and accidental),
and Mother Earth News (that one is actually Colin’s, but I do
read it sometimes). Oh yes, and Cabinet Magazine, which is
my most favorite! On my subscription wishlist?
The Believer and Lula. Do you subscribe to any periodicals?
Today, I am thankful for Neko Case (among many other things,
which I shall enumerate below). She came in to Uncommon Objects
a few times this week, and totally made my day by putting us
on the guestlist for her sold-out benefit show at Antone’s.
It was my first excursion since the surgery, and it was so
great to be able to sit down and see the show from the lofty
vantage point of the nice VIP area the have up there.
I don’t think I could’ve managed being squashed in that crowd!
I’ve been super dizzy and queasy still, so I’ve been taking it
pretty slow. I’m still cursing myself for missing Larkin Grimm,
Final Fantasy and The Mountain Goats play there last week-
especially knowing now that I could’ve seen the show from
a comfortable perch! Alas, I was beat and in no condition
to be in public anyway. Soon, I hope to be fully restored
to my former powers! I’ve been getting some acupuncture,
and eating lots of magical porridges. Heal, body, heal!
The show was amazing, and Neko is so sweet and
down-to-earth. If you’re not familiar with her music, I suggest
you get to steppin’ and buy her last two albums to start out with.
I enjoyed watching these mini-documentaries her label made
to accompany those releases, do take a peek:
Fox Confessor Brings the Flood
Middle Cyclone
I’m not completely certain, but I reckon that this bit of loveliness
is from the inimitable Miss Alison Scarpulla. True or false?
(Thanksgiving, by John Currin)
I’ve been doing a lot of meditation on gratitude lately,
and really trying to absorb the immensity of richness
in my life, and find a way to properly express my thanks
for all that I have been given. Recently, I’ve been totally
overwhelmed by the response of so many kind souls
who have offered help, food, company, wishes and love
to me during this ordeal. It has been truly humbling,
and I can only hope to be worthy of that love.
I’m working on making my thanks known
(very slowly, alas!) and finding ways to
pay that love forward on to others. Many lessons
learned lately! I am so incredibly thankful for
my amazing friends and family, for my crazy little
abode, for my sweet animal companions, for my
wonderful workplace and all those in it, for good
weather, my full belly, my warm bed, and the
sweet person I share it with most especially.
I try to never forget for an instant how damn lucky I am.
Thank you to anyone who is reading this right now,
for taking the time to be a part of my life.
I am wishing that your holiday is warm and
full of magic, and that you may be extra lucky too.
(Photo by Marie Edwards)
Let’s all go roll off the roof into giant piles of leaves!
Okay, not really. At least some leaf-pile stomping should
commence today, however. It’s just barely fall, here!
The leaves are drifting down, leaving the trees naked
and bereft of their susurrations. Maybe I’ll actually
get to wear a sweater or a coat soon, eh? Bizarre.
For your viewing pleasure, from The Masters of Russian Animation,
Alexander Petrov’s Rusalka. It’s painted on glass, I believe – so stunning.
Thanks for this to the very lovely Rima Staines of The Hermitage!
A few more tidbits, to aid your digestion –
one from NPR, very beautiful insect cabinets
and story, and a few tales from the bee-log back when:
The Butterflies And Beetles Behind Evolution
Russet + Bone
Zlata klic – In that far field.
Shooting Stars + Seedpods
by angeliska on November 21, 2009
(Forest Queen by Lindsey Carr)
At last, I am rousing myself from my haze of hiding
in the tiny seed-pod cave. I have been handed a giant
mug of strong coffee (oh dear!) and am experimenting
with not taking painkillers with the aim of actually
accomplishing something for the first time in days.
If you could combine these two creatures, it would equal my current totem.
Puny and wee and not very fast. I am a baby possumsnail!
It’s hard to comprehend that nearly a week has passed.
I’ve been taking it so slow, being very cozy, and very
coddled and swaddled! My full focus has been on healing
my body and spirit, and I am happy to report that both
are fully on the mend – thanks to the handiwork of
my very talented and generous doctor and the good
wishes of all of you! I truly feel that the positive outcome
of this ordeal was brought about by all the hopeful
energy and bright light that has been sent my way.
I know that it helped me be so much less afraid,
and took a fiery broom to the fearful and cobwebby
eaves of my heart. Whoa. I know! It’s true, though.
The night after my surgery, I struggled to see the window
from my hospital bed. We turned out all the lights in hopes
of seeing flashes of falling stars from the Leonid meteor shower.
Did you catch them? It’s one of my favorite things to watch.
The outcome of the surgery was far better than
I had ever hoped: they were able to do a laprascopy,
and remove only the offending cyst/ovary and some
endometrial adhesions they found, but left everything
else in place! Hooray! My other ovary looks perfect,
also – which I am thrilled about. Apparently there are
photographs, which I haven’t gotten to see yet.
Very curious indeed to peer into my innerworkings
and glimpse me own guts! I am told that they are
very pretty. Thankfully, the recovery time has been
greatly reduced, and I hope to be back in action
very soon. I’ve been divinely supine, practicing
being very, very still and letting myself be taken
care of. My friends and family have been so kind,
bringing me food, tea, treats and flowers!
I have received so many sweet messages and
parcels that have lifted my spirits enormously.
I would like to say thank you, with every fibre
of my being, to everyone for your all help.
You have no idea what a huge difference it has made!
Everyday, I can feel my body slowly fixing itself,
stitches knitting my skin back together and
everything learning how to work properly again.
(Photograph from Margaret M. de Lange‘s book Daughters)
I feel like I’ve been out of my body for too long,
that there’s been a disconnect that’s had me out
of sorts for awhile. I feel ready to come back to it,
make friends and inhabit it more fully, more joyfully.
I can’t wait to feel ready to dance, to ride my bicycle,
to romp in piles of leaves and walk in the woods.
Soon, soon!
(p.s. As per usual lately, the provenance of these images
are mysterious to me. If they are yours, or you know who
made them, do enlighten me so I may give credit where it’s due!)
Doll Hospital
by angeliska on November 13, 2009
Okay so, on this coming Monday, the 16th of November,
I will be going into the hospital to have surgery to remove
a large ovarian cyst. This has all happened quite quickly,
so I’m still processing a lot of information and emotion
and have been having a pretty hard time knowing how
to deal with it. I’m very blessed in that I have an incredible
golden web of support in my friends and family. I am also
enormously lucky because I was able to qualify for a program
that made it possible for me to have a medical procedure done
that would normally cost around $25,000. I, like many of my friends,
do not have health insurance. My doctor is donating his services
to perform the surgery, which is just beyond amazing.
Ivory Anatomical Figure from the Semmelweiss Museum
(Photo by Curious Expeditions)
The doctor’s fairly sure that I have endometriosis,
and that the cyst is an endometrioma. Meaning that it’s
non-cancerous, but they still want to remove it.
Given, however, the fact that my mother died of uterine cancer-
they are taking no chances, and want to be 100% sure.
At this point, it’s unclear whether I will be having a laparoscopy
(smaller incision, less recovery time) or open surgery.
I won’t know until I wake up and it’s all done.
If it’s an open surgery (which they are preparing for),
I will be recuperating at home for about 10 days,
and then taking things pretty slow for up to six weeks.
Let’s cross our fingers that they won’t have to do it that way.
By the exquisite Sorrel Smith
The hardest part for me is reconciling
all my tangled emotions and fears of illness,
hospitals and surgery which all relates back
to what I experienced as a child, when I lost
my mother in that sterile and terrifying labyrinth.
I am very afraid, and very anxious about this –
especially since I only have a short time to prepare for it.
Healing (Photograph by Wespionage)
Seeing this image brought back an intense memory
that’s been floating around in my head during all this:
I am little, in a medicine blue changing room with my mother.
Off goes her paper robe, and she’s there in all her whiteness,
her body is like mine will be one day, but far lovelier –
she’s a pale Waterhouse naiad, dusted with freckles.
I am fascinated by the purple ink lines and diagrams
dotting her belly. I ask her, “Mommy, why did you draw
all over yourself?” and she explains to me that the
doctors drew those lines there so that they would know
where to cut. I remember being horrified. I still am.
Years of bottled up tears are suddenly sliding down
my cheeks, and every day that I’m walking through
this, I come closer to an understanding I’ve been
avoiding almost all my life. Circles and cycles
and bloody threads tying me to my past and future.
I have a deep desire to complete the circle one
day, and someday bear a child of my own.
It breaks my heart to be told that my chances
at making that a reality are reduced.
It’s really hard not to be scared right now –
the kind of fear that seizes up tight
in your throat and makes your eyes burn.
In the last few days, the loving letters and
calls from friends have been the bright
candles that have been helping me dispel
that awful feeling. I know that all this is allowing
me the opportunity to work through some old
ghosts, and I feel like a lot of the outcome hinges
on how I choose to walk through it. I’m trying
to do it with a lot of hope and an open heart.
I would really appreciate any good energy
you could send my way, especially on the
16th of November, and would love to hear
from you in the days following, because
I’m going to cooped up healing for a little while.
I hoping to feel well enough to do a lot of writing,
because it’s really helping me right now, but
please understand if it’s quiet around here.
I felt a little conflicted about being so open here,
but if we can’t talk and write about these things
then what’s the point? I consider the human body
to be an incredible machine, in all its glory and its
failings. I’m not shy about discussing its interworkings,
only fascinated – and I don’t believe in the concept of
“too much information”. No such thing in my book.
The Uterus Vase by The Plug & Stéphanie Rollin
It is bizarre to me that I’ve seen this vase
described as “erotic” or “hideous” or “distasteful”.
It’s a beautiful form, a miraculous design – I would be
thrilled to have this on my table filled with bluebells.
Every single one of us came out of a woman’s uterus.
That’s incredible, isn’t it? Picture anyone at all,
and imagine them being born. Strange to contemplate.
Speaking of, I kind of want one of these to cuddle.
Aren’t they cute? Unfortunately, they were subject
to a recall – it seems people were worried that infants
would choke on the ovaries? Or something. Jeez.
Alright, my dearies – wish me luck,
and let’s hope that all my nurses look just like that.
(Photo by Babet)
I wish I was going to the doll hospital instead.
807 Esplanade
by angeliska on November 12, 2009
(Photographer unknown)
I became friendly with the ghosts of 807 Esplanade
not long after I moved into the building. The house
held so much history, it would seem strange if it
weren’t haunted at least by a few souls. The place
was huge, and there was some heavy energy
out back by the the former slave quarter apartments
where the drunks and dealers and recluses made
their sad lairs in little garrets connected by a very
rickety and dangerous wooden staircase. The whole
place was falling apart, long neglected by the owners.
I originally moved into the tower, alone at age 20,
a new resident of New Orleans. One night, my neighbor
who had lived in her apartment for years decided she’d
finally had it with pieces of the ceiling falling in, and
trying to raise her little daughter, Aurelia, in such an
unsafe house. She stormed out in a screaming fury,
and I ended up moving into her much larger and grander
apartment on the third floor. Two balconies, a clawfoot
tub, a gorgeous chandelier and two Italian Carrera marble
fireplaces (outfitted with freaky, fire-spitting gas heaters).
(Photographer known, but I’m afraid I’ve forgotten his name!)
The ceilings were 15 feet tall, and there were leaks in
every room when it rained, which it did nearly every afternoon.
We were plagued with rats, mice, giant flying cockroaches,
stinging caterpillars, noisy drunks from Bourbon St., and
general decay – but none of that mattered at all. In fact,
none of the hard things about living in New Orleans
really affected me, as long as I was living in that marvelous mansion.
We called it “Crumblydown Manor” or “Bramblebee Estates”
but mostly I called it the “We Have Always Lived in the Castle Castle”,
because it reminded me of something out of a Shirley Jackson story.
It was the ultimate in Southern Gothic dilapidated opulence,
and I felt like a queen surveying the hoi polloi, hidden behind
massive oaks on the balcony overlooking the neutral ground.
I still feel like it’s my house, and I always will. I go there in my
dreams all the time. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I miss it.
This is where I would lock up my bicycle every day. (Photographer unknown)
Alas, I digress! On to the ghosts – they mostly congregated in the stairwell,
playing little tricks on the other neighbors, and making mischief.
I felt quite a few presences there, and I felt that there was something
about the liminal space of the staircase, the landings and the halls
that kept them there. I would generally greet them warmly and politely
when climbing up or down the three flights as I did several times a day.
They repaid me for my good manners by saving my life on more occasions
then I can count. I am not the most coordinated lady, and was frequently
in ridiculously tall heels and often quite inebriated. I was constantly
taking a misstep on the steep stairs and nearly toppling to my death,
but somehow- it never happened. I would trip, and start to fall backwards-
that horrible, slow-motion slant backwards, arms wheeling, a slave to gravity
preparing for the worst until I would feel hands on my back pushing me forward
and back up onto the step. Sweating and gasping, I would thank them profusely.
Lucky for klutzy me, to have such kind and watchful ghosts looking out for me, eh?
(Photographer unknown – Melissa G., are these yours perchance?)
One afternoon, I was locking my bicycle up to the big mahogany post
at the base of the stairs. As I bent over to attach the lock, I felt someone
standing near me, and I glanced to the side expecting to see a neighbor.
Our of my peripheral vision, I saw a man standing there, wearing an olive
green wool army uniform, I reckon 1940’s WWII era. He was solemn and
sad seeming, standing there very straight, almost at attention. His hair
was blond, and curled over his forehead, looking almost marcelled.
Blue eyes. I think he wanted something. I think he wanted help finding
the way out, or just desired company. I only saw him that once, and it
was so short. As soon as I turned my head to look at him head on,
he was gone. I sensed him lots of times after that, though. His energy
reminded me of one of my favorite descriptions from the His Dark Materials
Trilogy, by Phillip Pullman:
“How much easier if his dæmon had been visible!
She wondered what its form might be,
and whether it was fixed yet.
Whatever its form was, it would express a nature
that was savage, and courteous, and unhappy.”
(Photographer unknown)
It was not too long after that that my friend Miss Carrin
came to visit. After her first night staying with us, she
informed me that our house was haunted. I was shocked to
find out that the ghosts had crossed the threshold! They
generally were very respectful, and stayed to the stairs
and the landings. She was drifting off to sleep, when
she suddenly sensed someone standing over her.
She opened her eyes to see a man staring down
at her lying there. He disappeared after a moment,
but not before she got a good look at him. I asked her
to describe the man she saw, and she told me that he
was wearing some kind of greenish uniform or suit,
and had blond wavy hair. I had not told her anything
of the ghost I had seen prior to this. A while later, a
guest told me that something in that room had kicked
him in the ribs while he slept. Perhaps the blond man
took a disliking to him, or maybe it was some other
mischievous phantom. I wonder how that soldier is
these days- if he’s crossed through, or if he’s made
any news friends. I imagine him still heartbroken,
searching. Maybe angry that I’m not there, and
making trouble for the filmmakers that are renovating
my old home and turning it into a production studio.
This is the house a long, long time ago.
When the turrets were still in place, and the
oaks and ivy had not yet sprung up to clothe
her bare and sienna-stained edifice. Nary
a single tree in what I knew as a somewhat dank
and shady leaf-clogged courtyard. Dirt roads
and women all in white, men all in black.
To know what my room looked like, and
to know the story of the terrible things that
happened after, when everyone who lived
there was given the boot, and the house
was desecrated, please see: Mutatis Mutandis
I also advise you to find out what happened
after that, to know more about the angry ghosts,
do read: Ghost Story – it’s quite creepy.
I still can hardly believe it. So strange.
☛ Some recent photos of the house from Gairid.
☛ What is the history of 807 Esplanade Avenue?
– from Blake Ponchartrain at The Gambit
☛ Tod Seelie’s photos of our mutual friends and various stompin’ grounds
in New Orleans are truly magic. He’s damn good, and his pictures
make my heart feel funny. Longing, and laughing.
Especially check out his post from the The Day Of The Dead
parade and Viking funeral for Colby – they are breathtaking.
DRAGGIN’ SOMEDAY OUT TO SEA
and a perfect visual explanation for me,
of what it means, to miss New Orleans:
NEVER SANG A LOVE SONG, NEVER OWNED A CAR
☛ Details of cornices and murals from the house,
in a book I want very much: New Orleans Architecture Volume 4:
The Creole Faubourgs – By Roulhac Toledano & Mary Louise Christovich
Ectoplasmic Honey
by angeliska on November 10, 2009
Have you ever seen a ghost? Have you ever felt one?
Visual apparitions are rare. I waited my whole life to see a clear one.
I’ve always noticed the amorphous, ephemeral shades:
thin wispy white ones, bulbous black blobby ones, and
the darting quick grey cat ones. The human form eluded me,
until I moved to New Orleans. I hope to tell some of those stories
in the next installment. I wish I understood more about them.
Once again, I’m sorry to say that I culled these images randomly,
and have no idea of their provenance. As always, enlighten me
if you know, and automatic mad props are due to their creators,
be they living or dead. Have you ever photographed a ghost?
If so, I’d love to see it. I love spirit photography, even fakes.
This one tends to creep me out. For some reason, I always imagine
that the bannister railing is her long arm gone all stretchy. Eeep!
I see the dead in dreams. Usually it’s the dead parents of my friends,
asking me to look out for them. I think parents have a hard time leaving
this plane when their children are still here. I’ve only seen my mother
there a handful of times. I get the sense that she passed through long ago.
I’ve seen poltergeists, or more accurately,
seen objects moved or damaged by unseen hands.
It can be alarming. Also, phantom odors and sounds and chills.
☛ More more muertos y musicas attend to Verhextland: Many Ghosts
☛ Supernatural Collective Nouns from Wondermark
(thanks for showing me this, Mlle. Elizabetha et Mlle. Ghoul!)
☛ Hammer of the Witches – FOR NEGLECTED MURDERESSES
Tempting, tempting!
☛ Sea of Ghosts is another great dark/magic/elegant fashion blog that I enjoy.
Lots of inspiration and drool inducers there! My lustful wishlist is starting to grow very, very long…
☛ These ghost stories from Platform are really, really good and creepy!
Be sure to read all three parts, eh? I hope there will be more to come…
☛ Hey Austin kittens, why don’t you join me Thursday night at Lambert’s
to see Hello Lovers and Faith Delphi? It will be very wonderful, and it would
do me good to see your lovely face. We can have a whiskey and hold hands.
