Play With Your Clothes - Sesame Street Couture

If clothes make the man*, do buttons make the clothes?

Valerie says:

Many years ago I bought a scrumptious red pinwale corduroy dress with a faux waistcoat front, a super A line skirt and generous pockets (hooray!). It closed down the front (fine) with small brown wooden buttons (not fine). What was the manufacturer thinking? Small brown wooden buttons on a brown suede jacket = fabulous, warm, organic; peanut butter and jelly (yummy). Small brown wooden buttons on a red corduroy dress = discordant, counterintuitive; fingernails on chalkboard; peanut butter and spaghetti (yucky). The dress said boutique, but the buttons said discount store. And the buttons won.

Think George Clooney with bad teeth. There's so much to the total George Clooney package (so to speak), but if he had even slightly irregular teeth, no one would notice his great face or his acting or his subtle expressions or his three hundred dollar haircut or the sophisticated cut of his tux. They'd all be moaning ad nauseum about his teeth. Buttons have the same power.

To save the dress, I took it to Tender Buttons, the eccentric grandmother of all button shops, where I found red square mother of pearl buttons. The red was sharp, like the red of the corduroy, and the angles of the buttons complemented the angular cut of the dress. I had to get twelve of them (eight for the button-down front, two for the cuffs and two spares), and they set me back about $25, but once I'd finished changing the buttons, that dress said BOUTIQUE in a saucy French accent.

The same applies that well loved favorite, the plain white button down shirt. Some of my favorite designers make a standard white cotton shirt with wonderful materials and beautiful lines, and then attach white plastic buttons as if people like me weren't closely inspecting the total package. I'll buy the shirt, but I'll definitely replace the buttons.

During the winter, I passed a street stall in Soho selling finger puppets. The ones I was most drawn to - electric blue with bits of black, white and orange - turned out to be Cookie Monster. It was love at first sight, but how does a woman of grandmotherly age buy finger puppets if she has no grandchildren? My friends, neighbors, relatives and coworkers would probably worry about me if I used them in their intended manner. So I bought seven and made button covers out of them - five for the shirt front, and two for cuff links. In New York, a serious town that dresses seriously, a wink and a nod to office apparel can be a good thing if you think you can get away with it. (In the photo above, Jean and I and the Cookie Monster quints celebrate the holiday season at Brigitte's - then on Crosby Street, now at that historic beauty, The Ansonia.)

Oh, and a shirt tip: when you buy your standard button down white shirt, put the collar up when you try it on, and see if you like the way it frames your face. If you do, your shirt can do double duty. Day look: collar down, top buttons open; evening look: collar up, all buttons closed.

Valerie's black wool and leather suit is by Eleanor P Brenner (a thrift shop find), white shirt by Josephine Chaus (Sym's), navy blue wool and velvet hat from the flea market. Cookie Monsters might be alpaca. Jean is wearing a Dutch-designed high-collared fleece jacket by Boris Industries from a boutique in Utrecht, an Issey Miyake skirt, Gucci glasses and a grey wool vintage hat from Mistress Mine in the East Village.


*(or woman)

Tracy's Facebook Fuck-Up Gets Her Screwed Twice

The top item on many social news sites this morning is a screenshot (click on photo below to enlarge) that purportedly shows an embarrassing message a woman posted to her public Facebook page. If real, it’s a mistake that might take some time to recover from. And if it’s fake, well it still might take some time to recover from...and a lot of convincing of one’s innocence! While it doesn’t appear to be Photoshopped, and the woman’s friends are definitely real Facebook members, it’s very possible the account was compromised by another person and it’s just a malicious prank. However, something tells me this is real. Why? Because it’s just more proof to me that older people shouldn’t be on Facebook. They aren’t ready for the digital information overload that is our lives. They have difficulty distinguishing between what is public and what is private when it comes to the Internet. So the information they throw out there often gets filtered incorrectly and they unknowingly make their private life too public. They’re unaware how to adjust privacy settings and gain control of what information is displayed and who gets privilege to that info. To them, nothing is black and white. It’s all gray and fuzzy. And that is where the problem lies! If you don’t know the ins and outs of Facebook and Twitter, DO NOT USE THEM! When it comes to social networking sites, what you don't know can hurt you.

It takes a lot to actually make me LOL on the Internet, but this gem did the trick!


I like Jeff. I too would reply with one word - "Nice." And I also would play dumb and not help her immediately. I would want to take in the sick giggle at her expense just a tiny bit longer. Maybe that’s mean, but something like this is too priceless not to bask in for awhile. However, the moral of the story here is a simple one. If you don’t know how to properly/fully use something, don’t use it. Now if you still want to use something, but don’t know how to properly/fully use it, LEARN. Or if you're Tracy, you'll eventually learn the hard way.

Call me a snob, but I liked it better when Facebook was only open to those who had a college or university e-mail address. Ah yes, those were the good old days when your Mom couldn’t friend you and stalk you on Facebook! The good old days when I wasn’t subjected to cougars and MILFs sending me messages on Facebook thinking this was the new Match.com or eHarmony. It’s Facebook. It’s a social networking site, NOT a dating site! There is nothing on my Facebook page that says I’m looking to bang chicks who are old enough to be my mother or that I’m searching for a woman whose kids I have more in common with than her. I’m sorry and I don’t mean to be a dick, but I’m just not interested. Now when it comes to Tracy, I'm willing to make an exception (insert evil laugh here).

If she hasn't been laid in months, something tells me this Michael she's conversing with (and pounding her like a lion) isn’t her fiance. Dirty girl! All we do know for sure is that she likes a strong and powerful mounting. Regardless, I’m thinking I should start a Facebook fan page: "Fans of Tracey’s OTHER Pussy." Or maybe I should send out a Facebook party invite: "You’re Permanently Invited to The Love Cave Between Tracey’s Legs."

By the way...Tracy, I sent you a friend request. Rrroar! ;)

***UPDATE***
Good news or sad news to report, depending on how you see it. The latest rumor is that a group of hackers/crackers from 4Chan have been targeting Christian users on Facebook and a few other sites (mostly online dating websites) and compromising their accounts. ANYONE, even without being listed as her friend, can view Tracy Turkish Brooks Facebook page at www.facebook.com/jesuslust

Again, Digg.com and others are reporting this as a fake. Apparently Tracy is a good girl afterall, or so we should assume. So I thought it's only fair that I should help clear her name. Sorry this happened to you Tracy and sorry so many of us got a sick laugh out of it. But comeon, it was hilarious! Even you have to admit that! And is it wrong that I wish this had been real? Damn it.

So now there is an added moral to the story - use stronger passwords, people!

Not Getting Published, But My Words Are Being Framed

"I am not a writer. You will never see my name embossed on a fine leather book. The dream of being published does not exist for me..." Blah, blah, blah. You know how it goes. Those are the words you read everytime you visit my blog. Those words are me declaring my acceptance of any future defeat I should suffer in life if my dream of being published fails to become a reality. And while the acceptance of failure is always a jagged pill to swallow, it is a healthy dose of reality. Having one's name embossed on a fine leather book may be all the proof the world needs in order to acknowledge you as a REAL writer, but sometimes all a wannabe writer like myself needs is the acknowledgement of those closest to him to recognize that he has a little writing talent. Until 2 weeks ago, my family was anything but supportive of my writing. That was mostly because they read little to nothing from me and had little to no expectations of me. Which brings us back to sibling roles and the fact that as the baby of the family, I believed I would forever be labeled as the clown and the jock. However, I've recently broke free of that image and I'm about to be framed in a new light!

My sister is not the sentimental type. She is not one to hold a keepsake box full of childhood memories and past loves. (Oddly enough though, I do.) So when she came back from her honeymoon and told me she wanted the folded piece of paper I wrote my wedding toast on, I was more than surprised. "I want to frame it," she told me. Really? I still hadn't gotten over the shock that on her wedding day the only tear/s she shed is when I gave the Best Man toast. That alone says something about my speech, but wanting to frame it? Seriously? People frame fine art and they frame precious photos. They do so to capture time, emotion and beauty. I could stare for hours at Georges-Pierre Seurat's "A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte" painting and get lost in the tiny dots of oily paint, but who would want to stare at my ink-filled chicken scratch on boring and bland vanilla paper?

She doesn't realize that by me giving her this old, folded piece of paper that she's actually the one giving me the gift...or so I feel. She's making my writing frame worthy! No one has ever made my words frame worthy! To me, that's one of the greatest compliments I could ever receive. Instead of being published and my book sitting on a dusty shelf, I'm being hung on a pristine wall. And anyone who ever steps foot in her house will see my writing on the wall. In an odd way, she's turning my words into a piece of art. My canvas was ordinary paper and my paintbrush was a simple pen. Crude tools of an artist, but tools that somehow magically created art without even knowing it. It just goes to show you that you never know how your words can affect someone, for good or bad. Words are a powerful thing. And no three words have greater power than "I Love You." Of course expanding on those three words in my roundabout, beat around the bush style seem to be quite endearing as well.

Have you ever framed a letter you received or some words once said to you? Or have you ever been frame worthy yourself? Share your tale. I'm anxious to hear!

Archaeological Geophysics Down Under

Just a quick note to let you all know that the "Introductory Archaeological Geophysics" subject offered through the Department of Archaeology at Flinders University, Adelaide, Australia from 21 September to 2 October 2009 is open to external students as a short course.

This course is intended for archaeologists who want to gain practical experience using geophysical techniques and is taught through a combination of lectures and extensive "hands on" data collection, processing, interpretation and reporting. Teaching staff include Ian Moffat and Lynley Wallis with specialist contributions from a range of industry partners.

For more information please visit the subject website or contact Ian via email (ian.moffat@flinders.edu.au).

The Rainwear Issue

Many people have been complaining about the long rainy summer, but not us. For us it's been an opportunity to dress for the occasion, and this year there have been plenty of great occasions to air out the rubber and the nylon.

When we came of age, everyone worshipped at the altar of natural fibers - cotton, linen, silk and wool - which is part of the reason that one iconic word in The Graduate - Plastics - was so howlingly funny then (and is probably unfathomable to anyone young enough to be our children or grandchildren now). It's difficult to break free of the natural fibers hard wiring, but for rainy weather there's nothing like good old plastics and their kissing cousins in the synthetics family.

When we were young, a raincoat was more or less guaranteed to be waterproof. It was plastic or rubber, or coated in plastic or rubber, and raindrops beaded up on those raincoats like little jewels - at least until the plastic cracked or the rubber crumbled. Now, for some reason, much that calls itself rainwear is water resistant rather than waterproof, as if responding to some call from consumers for moist skin on rainy days. As if modern consumers had expressed a yearning to have a stronger connection between their outer weather and their inner weather.

In the photo above at left is Jean in the lobby of The Donovan Hotel in Washington, DC. While appearing to be ready to dance in her fabulous flowing black ball gown, she is actually ready to engage in undercover Special Ops wearing her U.S. Army surplus SWAT Team hooded rain poncho from the Army-Navy store. The U.S. government designers made a coat that is not only waterproof, it can be snapped to another poncho to form a tent for fashionistas who disdain whipping out of buildings and into taxis, and want to prolong their communion with the elements. Jean's DKNY rainboots, unseen under her poncho, are perfect for the flash floods that often accompany East Coast rains. When clearing huge eddying puddles over storm drains is not an option, jumping into them can be a joyous occasion with the right boots.

Above right, Valerie wears black and white polka dotted rain boots and matching umbrella by ShedRain (found weeks and miles apart), black and white tee dress and matching leggings from H&M (97% cotton, and the all-important 5% Elastane), an extra large water resistant (just barely) men's white nylon jacket, black and white plastic target motif earrings from the late lamented outdoor flea market at West 26th Street, and smudgy black and gray canvas bag from H&M. By felicitous happenstance, colorful rainboots are very in just now, which means that those of us who are often compelled to wear flat shoes with wide toes (read: ugly sneakers) can find some small pleasure in patterned Wellies.

Note that both raincoats have ample room to go over our outfits without bulking us up or binding our arms, and allow for the passage of air. We're willing to suffer for our art, but looking ungainly would defeat the purpose. And looking uncomfortable - well, the whole point is to make it all look spontaneous and effortless...

A Small Scare

A Small Scare

I thought I had enough of the hospital a few weeks ago when I was hospitalized for atrial fibrillation and had received 18 shocks from my internal defibrillator (ICD). But, sitting in bed on Thursday night talking to my dad, I felt my heart beating faster than it had been lately and felt certain that I was about to receive a shock from my ICD. That never happened, but my heart continued to beat at an unusually rapid rate and so I made a decision to take a trip to the hospital emergency room and get things checked out. Instead of calling an ambulance, I relied on my dad's fast, but safe driving.

Upon arrival to the emergency room no one seemed in a particular rush as they filled out the necessary paperwork. Me, on the other hand, well, I was very anxious to see what was going on with my heart. Once I was hooked up to a heart monitor, it indicated that my heart rate was higher than it had been recently but not dangerously so. Next, the nurse put an IV into the back of my hand -- on the first try! Miraculous! Blood was taken and it showed a high white blood cell count and a higher than normal level of a particular heart enzyme that is typically elevated when your heart has suffered a trauma. Based on these findings I was admitted to the hospital, where I stayed until yesterday.

During my hospitalization there was nothing unusal about my heart and doctors were never able to explain the findings in the blood work. As my blood was retested the numbers seemed to come down and no signs of any infection were detected in me. At first there was some concern that I had already become toxic with the amiodarone that I had been taking since my last cardiac scare. Usually side effects take a while to appear, which is why it was surprising that I was starting to show some side effects. In the end, though, it was determined that my symptoms were most likely not due to the medication and I was put back on it.

By 11 am yesterday I was home again. I still think it was a good idea that I went to the hospital even though it seems that everything is fine. After my last scare I'm not taking any chances of getting shocked by my ICD, so if something doesn't feel right I'm heading to the nearest emergency room. I hope this doesn't happen for quite some time!

Special thanks to Lauren for typing this entry.

Gratitude Journal

We all have heard people say "I’m destined for greatness" or "I’m destined for failure." If you’re a Pessimistic Patty or a Pessimistic Pete, wouldn’t it be nice if you could change your destiny? You can! And it’s as simple as changing your outlook on life. If you want to start attracting positive things into your life, there is one small thing you should do every day - show your gratitude, appreciation and love for the people and things around you. As more of your thoughts and words become positive, you'll start attracting more positive people and circumstances. Decide today that you are going to reduce negativity in your life by getting rid of the 'don'ts,' 'nots' and 'no's' - the negative people, the negative thoughts. Basically, shed the toxicity in your life, including toxic relationships that weigh you down. The idea is to get in the habit of appreciating things. So how do you do that? Well the best way to do that is by keeping a Gratitude Journal.

It's not a new concept and one that you've probably heard about before. For years, numerous "spiritual teachers" have been recommending and encouraging the practice. But it wasn’t until Oprah (from the Cult of Oprah) endorsed the practice that it began to really take off. For those that don’t know, a Gratitude Journal is a way to consciously call attention to the things for which we are thankful each day. By focusing on gratitude, we become aware of those things and thus create a shift in our thinking to the positive. Starting a gratitude journal helps you rediscover life’s simple pleasures, the very things we all take for granted...and by showing appreciation for these simple things, it creates a whole new outlook on life. And in today’s dreadful economy and bleak job market, who couldn’t use a fresh outlook on life?

Starting and keeping a Gratitude Journal isn't rocket science. Look for things during the day for which you are grateful, making mental notes throughout the day. No matter how small or great, anything goes - a baby's smile, a flower in bloom, or the smell of a newly cut grass. Make the list personal. Be brief in your words and increase the length as time progresses. Begin looking everyday for the positive angle in all things. View obstacles as opportunities to appreciate. Focus on the wonderful things in life to attract similar encounters in the course of the day. Use positive energy as a magnet to draw even more positive energy. Note these attractions in the gratitude journal. And lastly, personalize the gratitude journal. Expand it with clippings, photos, quotes or verses from magazines or other sources.

You can make your Gratitude Journal as private or public as you want it to be. And as formal or informal as you like. All that is really required is that you set aside just 5 minutes at the end of each day to write 5 things you are grateful for on that given day. 1 minute per item. You can do that, right? Of course you can and so can I. My future Gratitude Journal entries will be private and kept in a leather journal, but for now, here are 5 things I am grateful for today...

1. Confirmation that there is a girl out there with the ability to make me deliriously happy.
2. My four-legged BFF, Diesel. He's simply the best part of my every day. As someone with insomnia, last night I found myself falling asleep to the sound of his snore. Oddly enough, his snoring didn't keep me up, but rather calmed me and sent me off into la-la land.
3. That my Grandmother is still with me and we will be celebrating her 90th birthday next month! As someone from a small family, I very much cherish our relationship and feel blessed for each day God has given me to spend with her. Time is short, but precious. A realization I am always mindful of.
4. That I don't carry the bald gene or the fat gene. By genetics, I'm naturally tall and thin. So while most people go to the gym to lose weight, I go to the gym to gain weight - bulk up, build muscle. (I accept the fact that many people hate me because of this.)
5. That I've rediscovered my childhood love of writing. Not even words can describe how sooo, sooo grateful I am for this. It has given me the creative outlet in which I so desperately craved. And in it, the ability express the things in my everyday life that are often too difficult for me to verbalize. To me, paper and pen are better than sliced bread.

So what are you grateful for?

***NOTE***
You can also see this post featured on the frontpage of BrazenCareerist.com