if Winona Ryder shopped at Savers, she wouldn't have had to steal stuff

Wow huh?  Normally the lighting at Savers makes me everyone look about six weeks past the sell by date, but it made her look like a young Winona Ryder.  It's like a Christmas miracle.

She got this coat before it became an Urban Outfitters item, and the sweater underneath from a free bin at a coffee shop only minutes prior to this incident.  She told me which coffee shop but I immediately forgot because I had 47 yards of navy blue tulle attached to a waistband in my cart and I was driving around until it seemed like a reasonable purchase. It only took an hour and 27 minutes!  Back to our waif above -- she's my poster child for 2013 which is more personal honor than financial gain.  (Although, if she cares to contact me, a tulle-ific prize awaits).  This dubious award was bestowed because of her reckless use of pattern, pragmatism and hair which I feel is a harbinger of crazy shit to come.  Happy No Fears my fellow twist-tie recyclers!

Daisy reads

So I'm in the Walker store fingering well-designed alarm clocks and cheese spreaders, and absolutely not looking at startlingly large glistening body parts in art books when I spot Daisy Buchanan reading. Heads up nonreaders, a literary allusion has been played.  Straight from East Egg to uptown,  this vision of loveliness and luxury is complete from t-strap dancing shoes to the richest thickest feather headband-ready hair.  I dropped the Mapplethorpe book and got over there as fast as any lumpen potato-shaped commoner could.  It's true, those are 2-foot long fringes sewn on in an undulating pattern.  She did not wrestle a bear, kill it with her bare hands, skin it and fashion it into dramatic outerwear. Her great aunt did. Or maybe it was mink. A herd of mink.  It was all I could do not to pet her. 

Instead, I followed her around taking photos that did not capture the bathtub-full-of-champagne decadence I was jazzed (ha, historical joke) about.  This last photo was my way of saying, Look, it's a dress with a really nice blowout and some of that straightening serum.  

Anyhoo, it briefly occurred to me that the Walker hired a Daisy Buchanan look-alike to soothe horrified, over-challenged guests to restore their faith in beauty, in a conveniently retail environment.  So people would think, Thank goodness for beauty and opulence. By the sixth mutilated doll tossed on a pile of feces, I was beginning to feel a little down, but now by golly, I'm outing with the VISA and I'm gonna buy smooth shiny pretty things.  Also, though I don't know how, I have a strong desire to dance the Charleston.

designer in chains

Moving on from a weak reference to Quentin Tarantino's recent splatfest, we find Doris Day's sweater (googtube it, friends under the age of 95) fresh out of a meeting of the PTA going to town with a Scarsdale skirt that appreciates modern dance and Amish boots that have left the order, all lulling our irony-luvin souls into a false sense of Stepford conservatism.

But what's this!?

Oh for tribal!  Tusk-like ear interest (no worries, only a credit card was harmed in the harvesting of these from Asos) and natives-are-restless hand party shaking it in the most ethnic way.

She's licensed to handle this level of contrast because she's a graphic designer visiting her roots. And her parents.

24K Tyrol

If sprinter Michael Johnson went to a talent contest with a charming rendition of How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria... Heart. Also, colored legs are animated legs, legs that can bend in unusual places and zoom around in a blurry circle.  There is absolutely no excuse for not moonwalking in this ensemble.

the freshest thing I've ever gotten at Korte's

That's a polar bear on her vintage pullover. That's a plaid shirt under the pullover.  Those're daisy dukes over the tights. That's curls on her hair. That's pineapple, 2/$5.  These are a few of my favorite things.  Any questions?

day of the dude

Hello.  His girlfriend gave him the full-throttle shadow biker jacket and I went ahead and assumed the splotches of color on his boots were paint since we were outside MCAD, an artist-rich zone.  Uh no. That would be food, a work-related hazard of his sauce-slinging gig. Finally and tuffest, locked, loaded and accessorized...

two views of Jeffrey

 Above is pixelated Jeffrey which is user error an expression of my relationship with the artificial lighting of the Institute of Art.  Or perhaps an imprint of the very strong aura of the Buddha that was behind me.  Anyhoo, I turned to Photoshop for enlightenment, as you would.  Pixelated Jeffrey is friendly, approachable, perhaps a Capricorn, has what appears to be skin.

This is badass Jeffrey rocking the beanie, the whistle-on-a-chain, a Mr. Rogers gets a loft in Williamsburg cardigan,  rolled jeans and boots that automatically walk to Andrew Bird concerts (computer chip in the hand-stitching, available on Etsy) like homing pigeons.  Bird, pigeon... Ok, moving on. 

Badass Jeffrey is an emo action figure, made of life-like plastic, gonna come over and chill wit u, maybe make some sushi and Mraz it up.  Nah I'm joshing but on a completely related artistic note,  don't you find it complex and mind-bending that the Institute's lighting makes marble and wood look like real skin and real skin look like it was made by Mattel?  Say Dude if so.

you better pink

 

Plenty pink, pleated, picnic basket gingham -- what could be better?

 

Palazzos!

 

Aloha baby, book this

 

Peter Max pop fizz with covered buttons, covered with buttons, ooo

Twisted in a good way. 
And that is the two pigs fighting in a blanket at the tail end of this pink parade.  All of these were liberated from various do-gooding thrift stores.  If this was one man's trash, I would like to meet that man.

it's come to this

 The lay down.  Which is different from the throw down.  Unable to find any pedestrians tottering through the snow in angry Bottega Veneta pumps or indeed anything that did not look like a gigantic tuber, I've resorted to showing you stuff I found at thrift stores.  That's pretty interesting, right?  Example A, above and below, came from the Quincy Street Sallie Army in Brooklyn.  This is hands-down the most beautiful Middle Eastern swimsuit I've ever seen.  I slay myself.  Note the gathering and the self-fabric seam covering under the arm.  This excites me, it's strong stuff, and I can only imagine it sent many a Middle Eastern blood pressure skyrocketing too.  I find tunics and crazy big pumpkin pants all the time in the course of the rag picking biz -- they all look like they were cut out by the Grinch and assembled by a springer spaniel.  Gorgeous and well-made with great attention to detail are not features of the tunic trade.  This is the lone exception.

I loved that intricate floral pattern so so much and then it started looking reeeeeeeaal familiar.  The above rectangle of botanical beauty is by Arts and Crafts kingpin William Morris.  A pattern emerges. (You've been great, tell your friends about it, I'll be here all week). Morris et al have been enjoying the hookah a bit too much but then again, that is a feature of the Arts and Splifs trade.

potatoes n lightbulbs

I could have labeled this fifty shades of grey but that would have been misleading. There's like five or six at most. I especially like the can-do optimism of the white woven shoes putting on brave socks and heading out in December. She went to college where she majored in Textural Gradations and Scout's Honor Hair. 

I want to know the creative genius who decided to make wallpaper of blue sky blue with ultra realistic roots n bulbs in regimental formation.  It makes me very happy.  Actually the sprite and the wallpaper together were like a ray of sunshine, but less trite, in stark contrast to the other exhibits at the Walker that represented all the emotions from ugly to horrifying to creepy.  I went home, had a stiff drink and a good shower and looked at our photo albums where we have surprisingly few photos of pubic hair glued to a piece of stained linoleum and nailed to a mutilated doll.  Our mutilated dolls had eyeballs that were twisted and closed left to right instead of up and down which is sort of endearing.

community organizer

Love the suave double-breasted jacket which is handmade, not with pixels as it appears here due to injudicious use of Photoshop, but with stitches all around the lapels. I suddenly wanted to write All around the mulberry bush, but that's just me.  Also the contrast of the cosmopolitan blazer and the jeans tucked into whoop-ass boots is nice and ironic.

Here's where I explain (always a lot of explaining to do) why I labeled this post community organizer:  Gia (spelling is conceptual, like the art) took a break from the third grade to organize the Vote No campaign and dang if he didn't do a great job of it.  The brilliance of the Vote No message became clear to my addled self in the voting booth where I read the statement, the gray cells seized up, my eyeballs rolled around independent of each other and I couldn't parse out whether I was voting for being against families of united people or yes I don't want to restrict marriage or no I do want ... ice cream.  But then I thought about the cute Mini I saw driving around covered with huge letters that said Vote No in blue and orange, the school colors of Macalester College, and I like Minis and blue and orange so I voted no.  No, people like me should be restricted to only this world.

art, life, chicken, egg

Here we are fresh off Cindy Sherman's unsettling photographic journey through fashion, beauty, art, culture and gender roles, so this photo could be viewed with six kinds of lenses including a great big ironic one.  Or it could be utterly random, a hiccup, a burp, end of the week wardrobe rotation.  Let's give it the benefit of the doubt, and listen to what these two are saying so pinkly and so blackly. 

OR

We could say, Analysis of gender tropes is BS man, and just listen to what they said said. With their mouths.  They're here at the Walker on free night because, what are they, stupid?  They both used to work here in member services so they know a sack o manure conceptual art when they see it. Now one of them works at MPR and one is applying to vet school with her fine arts degree.  Let's think about very beautifully done neutering.

sisters

Isn't shared DNA weird?  Their eyes and their cross-body bags are the same (aren't you so so glad I'm 100% on my game and did not say crossed eyes and body bags by mistake? I am) and yet their footwear is very different.  That must be what they cover in Advanced Genetics because in my Genetics For People Who Should Never Reproduce class, we did not get beyond vestigial wings -- information I only use once or twice a week at most. Are a predilection for scarves with feathery bits woven in, cape-like coats and cowboy boots linked traits?  Are bangs thicker than water?  Is a super-Katniss survivor braid nature or just cool?  What the hell are gametes and how can I get rid of them? Science raises a lot of questions but the only thing we know for sure is that the white dot on the photo is def not a drip of whole milk foam from a small latte with an extra shot that, through osmosis or perhaps sneezing, got on my camera lens.  

black Saturday

Unlike Black Friday when you wear a firearm in your sweatpants that say PINK in letters that span the curvature of the ass earth and jump up and down with each rolling stride in the most animated way,  black Saturday is when you get yourself over to the Bibelot and huff Thymes bath products until $209.99 seems like a damn good deal for salt and pepper shakers in the shape of a typewriter or mold or some such.  

Oh man, I'm just bitter because some other J Jill-wearing gangsta got the last retro pink eraser shaped like an eraser for $703.99 (in classic leather pouch) by saying, "Is that Louise Erdrich over there by the ironic Mary-shaped ice cube trays?"  Oldest trick in the book.

I digress. 

Laurie (saurie, I forgot to ask about spelling because I'm a hopeless journalist) is dressed to kick ass and take names as a Bibelot employee in ways with black that make you think,  This outfit is galvanizing neurons and making me think of blackness in a whole new and exciting way. I'm seeing seams at dynamic angles and gathers where I never have before. Or is that the soy-based mud puppy-scented candle talking?! (who remembers mud puppies, raise your hand).  Ok, I'll holler out the stuff I love about Lori's look and every time you find it in the photo, chug some Hot Flash Tea.  Ready, go!

Grandfather watch on a rope

Double layer artful dodger gloves

Comfy dress w/Demeulemeester leanings

Large print polka dots 

Blue blue eyes for contrast

Soft nappy wool jacket with one big button

Polka dot neoprene handbag that's good to 4,000'

Busted!  The neoprene bag is not in this shot. Take another hit of tea.

Honey-Mustard dressing

Lookout because there's gonna be missed metaphors tossed around like a hot tomato and I'm going to make this Honey-Mustard thing work come hell or high collars.  And it'll  be so much more horrible enjoyable if I explain it: The coat on the right might be Honey-colored if the bees had drunk from the nectar of the black flowers on the belt and the cute duffel coat on the left is Plochmann's Mustard (Plochmann's because I went to high school with Heidi Plochmann, the mustard heiress).  Honey-Mustard, H&M (provenance of boat coats) and Honey-Mustard dressing because that's what you put on a pair (of friends) salad. 

I'm looking down now, not because I pulled a metaphor stretching that idea, not becauz I'm deeply ashamed from a career perspective, but becuz I likes their shoes too.