Weinstein Gallery

 

 

Ok, Weinstein Gallery does not seem the place to be looking downward, and indeed, I enjoyed the opening of the Elliott Erwitt exhibit full on (fabulous and highly recommended).  The Weinstein also draws an arty, well-dressed crowd, so of course I had ulterior motives.  To be honest though I was intimidated-- creative people standing around in knots talking with other creative people. I mean, sartorial expression is a birthright, it's assumed in this demographic, right?  And fawning over one or two individuals -- euuuuw gauche. And that's not even taking into account that I was at a photography exhibit in the company of a bunch of photographers with my Canon A570 with 4X optical zoom and -10X skillz.  Shit. Well I took one for the project and for you dear reader. How could I not? Look at those rich rich boots on top there. Like butta. And it was sort of nifty that the authors of this boots-n-jeans story were walking around together.

Pants, I mean woman below, had this somehow Tyrolean feeling. I guess it's the tabs on the hem. She got them in New York last year. The gorgeous shoes are old old.

Minneapolis Inst. of Art

So much to love -- feather hair clip, octopus necklace, musical note tats (she's played violin for 16 years),  soft soft cuddly coat (Electric Fetus), marvelously graphic skirt, mustard yellow tights and plaid-lined foldover boots. She works at the Institute, and is a work of art and an inspiration.

Minneapolis Inst. of Art

 

This is Zach and Krystal (sorry, didn't check spelling) who just finished a hoop dancing demonstration. Zach's drum is made of deerskin. I also like Krystal's face decor.

Minneapolis Institute of Art

 

I don't generally stalk from afar but this woman wandered on into the ticketed Native American exhibit for which I didn't have a ticket, so.... the long sweep, the swaying volume and the strong color. Mmmmm.

13th Street NE, Mpls II

Looks kind of dangerous, doesn't she? No holds barred, full throttle?  Damn straight. Moments earlier, she was climbing out of the sidecar of an orange motorcycle with her similarly attired-for-action friend and, well,  the whole thing knocked me out.  That's right my pantywaist friends, the jacket is a one-of-a-kind from the Evil Knievel women's collection. You didn't know there was an Evil Knievel women's collection, did you? She demonstrated the many zippered vents that keep you cool when you're jumping your bike over 27 cars, or whatnot. Scored at My Sister's Closet on Grand in St. Paul -- my personal home-away-from-home. The super tough boots are her boy friend's, dug out of storage after five years and obviously still kicking.  The dress she found at a vintage store in Toronto which she says is like a hundred Corner Stores put together. Maybe even better than that.  What makes this whole biker thing work is a goofy-to-the-bone attitude. I look for that in a biker chick.

13th Street NE, Mpls

Guess what everyone? Anchor Fish & Chips is closed on Mondays. But NE Social Club was open and got our business, and by our, I mean myself and Quyen (left) and Barb. Quyen is rocking a harf/scat she got at I Like You and some wonderfully red clogs. The clogs look Dutch which made me think of Rembrandt and see how the red specks on the hat and the red pompoms on the scarf and the red shoes make this electric path? Rembrandt-esque composition. I cannot explain Barb -- it's best to just wonder and enjoy her.  Maybe an anecdote will shed a little light.  In 1987, Barb and her husband Bob and her mother visited Hawaii, and specifically Pearl Harbor.  Somehow, Barb's mother ran into a Japanese tourist and took a tumble as a result (also breaking her wrist in the fall but she didn't discover that for a couple days). Her mother still tells people she was wounded at Pearl Harbor by the Japanese. This would seem to be a story about Barb's mother, but the apple did not fall far from the tree.

The Commodore, St. Paul

Meet Linnae and Karen, the women behind Embraceable You Vintage Clothing and Accessories. They are part of the excuse to go out on a Monday evening -- the vintage/craft/flea market, music (Willie Murphy at the ivories) and snacks at the Commodore in St. Paul. They introduced me to the Goldworm label, the insanely rich patterned wool frock on the left. It just has this 70s arty Bonnie Cashin-esque vibe. As you would if you were a freak, I went right home and searched the information superhighway for Goldworm (the name is a marketing nightmare and possibly the sole reason the brand is not as well-known as Cashin).  It was started by Mr. and Mrs. Goldworm in the 1920s in NYC as a sportswear line. Later they moved the production to Italy to take advantage of the superior wools, dyeing and construction going on there. Goldworm garments were produced using many of the same materials and artisans as Pucci.  Fantastic prints were the hallmark of the brand (aha), which reached a peak of popularity in the 1960s and 1970s. I don't think they are produced any more, but they're fetching a pretty price on eBay. I forgot to ask her how she scored this bloom of loveliness.
Holy cow, unsolicited. I do go on. Of course so much to love about our friend on the right -- vintage velvet hat, tie-dyed dress from Anthropologie and bespoke belt whose clasp had a former life as a hat topper. But naturally I was down on my knees getting up-close with those shoes.  Rhinestone buttons on the front and, brilliantly and functionally, at the ankle. Sculpted heel? That's what I'm talking about. They're Onex, recently purchased at Nordstrom Rack.  Surprised? I was. I have an impression of Nordstrom's as being middle-of-the-road, nowhere near this edgy.  This impression is based 100% on my imagination as, full disclosure, I've never been to Nordstrom's Rack!

Walker Art Center

OK, this beheading was at the victim's request (I'm all defensive about my photography).  Nonetheless, I managed to be inappropriate by single-mindedly keying in on this marvelous skirt (is that a happy day print or what) and I was halfway into my introductory spiel/trying not to sound too too creepy when I actually looked at the woman wearing the skirt and realized I knew her.  Gechhh, busted again.  Anyhoo, she's a wordy person, as handy with an adjective as a style statement, here demonstrating American Woman From a European Perspective. Aforementioned skirt she scored at a clothing swap. The boots are Icelandic. And the jean jacket is French label APC's embodiment of "hysterically normal."  I think that's because of the tacked down pleats on the front, so if you ever see this treatment again, think "hysterically normal."  Try it. It's fun.