It is said that funerals (memorials, celebrations of life, et al.) are not for the dearly departed. Instead, they are for the living. It may sound bonkers but nothing makes me want to go on living like a funeral - not so much for a fear of death, rather because hearing about the way that a successful life is one lived in a spirit of service and adventure, can be a somber reminder that there is still much living and learning to do.
Last weekend we drove several hours to attend the memorial service of a family friend who left an incredible legacy of beauty, joy, and mischief. While the better part of three decades had passed since I had any direct contact with this friend, attending her memorial service was a wonderful opportunity to have my vaguely-marvelous memories of this unerringly-chic woman substantiated by the fond remembrances of her loved ones.
Susie, 1958
Isn't she breathtaking? I think of Susie every time I make a dress or skirt for Mary;
she was quoted as saying, "A proper skirt should never have less than 5 yards of fabric."
(A higher-resolution image can be see here)
A statuesque octogenarian who referred to herself as 5'12", Susie was adventurer, wife, philanthropist, teacher, mother, model, artist, and chef all rolled into one. When the announcement of her passing came, we were both saddened and intrigued - saddened, of course, by the loss and intrigued by the stunning images her family shared of Susie's incredible life. In one particular photograph, dated 1958, Susie is donning a couture creation (remarkable for its multi-colored, asymmetrical peplum-turned-train) and a dramatic, oversized headdress. My thoughts turned immediately toI Love Lucyand the episode, "Lucy Gets in Pictures" (1955).
When Lucy buckles under the pressure of this towering headdress,
she gets downgraded from cinema star to simple supernumerary.
Built for laughs, Lucy's headdress had nothing on the height, breadth, and splendor of Susie's phenomenal headpiece (and let it be noted that there isn't even the slightest trace of strain on Susie's unblemished brow). Perhaps it is bad form at a memorial to so enthusiastically inquire about the origins of a sixty-year-old photograph but included in a slideshow tribute were a few equally-intriguing images that left us feeling like this was more than an ordinary fashion show. Our piqued interest reached its collective peak when "showgirl" was not mentioned among her may artistic exploits. As it turns out, Susie was a long-time participant with Las Floristas, a Los Angeles-based charity benefitting the health and educational concerns of special-needs children at Rancho Los Amigos National Rehabilitation Center's children's clinic. Since 1938, the Las Floristas Headdress Ball, has been the charity's largest annual fundraiser. Each year, similar fantasies fashioned of feathers and flowers, designed and built by professional florists, seem to grow in complexity and size (as shown in the videos below).
Las Floristas Headdress Ball (1938-1967)
(Susie can be seen at least twice is this video at about 4:50 wearing
the gown and headdress combo above and approximately 5:35)
Las Floristas Headdress Ball (1968-1990)
Have you ever? I have never. I mean, did you see Susie with the scale-model Ice Capades dancer on her head? Did you see the lady doing the Charleston? Not to mention Eve, the functioning ferris wheel, the pirate ship, the mermaid leading her seahorse chariot, the giant opening ball thing, and the LOBSTER!!! Oh, the lobster! As far as I'm concerned, the Rose Parade can go suck an egg.
My newest research project is to see how these pieces are made; even with paper, aluminum, silk flowers, foam, and featherweight plastics, these works of wearable art have got to be heavy (some of the models are concealing cleverly-disguised braces/supports). I saw somewhere that the staff of the Headdress Ball includes an orthopedic surgeon to consult on the maximum height and weight of the headdresses. Of course, the next move would be to wrangle an invitation to the Headdress Ball - even behind the scenes. If you have an in, please let me know; I've got to see this for myself!
So now do you see why I like funerals? People are fascinating and full of personal histories to which we may not always be privy; as heartbreaking as the occasion may be, it is a thrill to learn more about the person and a challenge to be more like him or her. I am grateful to Susie and her family for being a wonderful example of inclusivity, generosity, and kindness. How lucky we were to have our lives touched by such a force of light and love! If a pretty girl is like a melody, then Susie was SYMPHONY!
To find out more about Las Floristas, the Headdress Ball, and to donate, please visit lasfloristas.org.
To find out more about the Las Floristas Children's Clinic at Rancho Los Amigos National Rehabilitation Center, please visit rancho.org.
Tiny & Mary take Texas (or at least the State Fair of Texas)!!!
I'm not sure if it is embarrassing to admit, but State Fair(1945) is one of my favorite movies. Furthermore, it is far and away my favorite Rogers & Hammerstein musical. Don't get me wrong; I think Dick and Oscar wrote some of the 20th Century's greatest love songs (see: "Something Good") but somehow their works, bogged down by far too many a dreary dream ballet for my liking, are overwrought and ultimately depressing. State Fair, unique in its purely-cinematic origins, is a masterpiece of mid-'40s optimism. The joyful whirl of dirndl dresses and "rousing, cornfed ditties," encourages my perennial delusion that this is what all fairs will be like. Not so much.
State Fair (1945)
Remade in 1962 with an unlikely roster including Alice Faye, Ann-Margaret, Bobby Darin, and Pat Boone, State Fair's geography changed dramatically from the corn fields of Iowa to the wide, open prairies of Texas. Filmed on location, State Fair (1962) made the most of the enormous fairgrounds.
"Isn't It Kinda Fun?" - Ann-Margaret in State Fair (1962)
My birthday trip to Texas resulted in a self-guided tour of those very fairgrounds that was more than "kinda fun;" it was the highlight of our day in Dallas. The only things "kinda fun" about the 1962 movie reboot are Ann-Maragret at the height of her powers and matching the fairgrounds captured in our photos to the images presented in the film.
State Fair of Texas, 1962
State Fair of Texas, 2015
Opened in 1936 for the centennial celebration of Texas statehood, Fair Park is a marvel of Art Deco architecture. Open to the public year-round, the sprawling fair grounds define the phrase, "They just don't make them like they used to." To ensure that we were able to see everything, we rented bikes that we thought would allow us to cover more ground.
It was our lucky day as there were only two functioning bicycles left in the bike rack!
Mine, of course, was cursed with gear issues and left me pedaling triple duty...
The main entrance into the State Fair of Texas was appropriately large but slightly unprepossessing, with only a solitary statue honoring the dedicated men and women who designed and built the fair.
"To perpetuate the memory of the builders of the State Fair of Texas."
Just past this garden, however, an entire world of stately beauty is revealed. Flanked by a pair of pegasus (pegasi? pegasuses?), an almost endless reflecting pool becomes the centerpiece to a grand concourse of exhibition halls and pavilions. In front of each porticoed hall towers a powerful statue representing Texas' famous six flags (Spain, Mexico, France, The Confederacy, The Republic of Texas, and The United States).
State Fair (1962)
2015
The fountains weren't operating but that didn't diminish the majesty of Fair Park's main esplanade.
Many of the exhibition halls are adorned with larger-than-life murals.
Mary said that this is how she pictures her romantic life - a blonde angel swooping
down to rescue some poor guy from the endless miseries of bachelorhood.
State Fair (1962)
2015
It is our understanding that the fairgrounds suffered from some questionable "make-
unders" over the years. Thankfully, everything has been restored to full, glorious color.
State Fair (1962)
2015
This is not the same statue as the one pictured above, but you get the idea.
Mary wondered why this particular statue wasn't included in the final cut of State Fair.
I could only think of a couple reasons...
State Fair (1962)
2015
The Hall of State is not featured prominently in the film but you can clearly make out
the golden god in front of the building...and just past him you can see that Tejas warrior statue.
One of the pavilions was left open so we took the opportunity to do some exploring.
It was quite dark inside and nothing was going on but we did get the chance to marvel
at the Art Deco motifs that continued on inside the buildings.
State Fair (1962)
2015
As much as we loved the State Fair of Texas, it was certainly not without its disappointments.
A chairlift/gondola ride might be fun but it is no substitution for the long-gone '50s-era monorail!
State Fair (1962)
2015
And don't get me started on Big Tex!!! I was more than a little miffed to learn that
Big Tex is only on site when the fair is running. But I was quickly distracted by this
shiny, gold, skyscraper (the base of which can be seen next to Big Tex in the above
still from the film).
State Fair (1962)
As the world's largest carnival barker, Big Tex beckons fairgoers into the midway. I
had to settle for "Big Mare" or "Midway Mary" as she's known around the fairgrounds...
Even still, I was thrilled to see the same neon-clad midway arch that is featured in the movie!
The original star of the midway was the Triple Racing
Roller Coaster, seen in this footage from 1936.
Fair Park extends far beyond the grandeur of the exhibition halls and the thrills of the midway. Home to museums, an aquarium, and a manmade lake, one could happily spend an entire day roaming the grounds - even without the promise of caveman-sized turkey legs, deep-fried Oreos, and milk-chocolate bacon on a stick.
In the forecourt of the aquarium sits an incredible seahorse water feature.
I'm not sure that I've ever mentioned it here, but I am fascinated by
seahorses and love seeing them represented in art and architecture.
This fella was loitering outside the Natural History Museum.
Creating a fairyland atmosphere, one section of the lagoon features a beautiful, interactive
sculpture garden, where serpentine footpaths meander through the water and around the trees.
The joke's on you, Texas. This troll is on top of the bridge!!!
A fair full of people might have lent some vitality and atmosphere to our visit but Mary and I agreed that that we preferred having the entire park to ourselves. It is a treat to experience the art and architecture without shoving past hordes of hungry fair folk (oddly enough, one of the few people that we did see was someone with whom Mary is acquainted from Southern California; we met him as we entered a warehouse sale that was being held on the fairgrounds - Mary has a friends in every airline hub).
A panoramic view of the wonderfully-desolate State Fair of Texas
The State Fair of Texas did much to restore my faith in the possibility of fairs. If you ever find yourself deep in the heart of Texas, it is a most worthwhile use of your time. And as everyone in Texas is a Texan, even a couple of no good city slickers, we feel perfectly comfortable declaring that "Our state fair is a great state fair!" Don't miss it! Don't even be late!
"Our State Fair is a Great State Fair" - State Fair (1962)
There has to be some kind of superstition that warns against revealing one's Halloween costume prior to October 31. Somehow it feels like a bride parading around town in her wedding dress before the big day, especially to one who views Halloween as a marriage of everything wonderful - holidays, dress-up, ghost stories, and free candy!!! Having broken many a mirror with only negligible consequences, I am willing to tempt the fates and show off this year's version of my tried-and-true Halloween pajamas (as is the case every year, my passion for Halloween is tempered only by my extreme distaste for even minor discomfort, i.e. ungainly costumes, elaborate makeup, full-face masks, gore, the inability to sit/stand/eat/use the facilities properly, etc.). Any costume I wear must be able to do double duty as lounge/sleepwear.
Inspired by the vintage statuettes that take pride of place on the bookcase, the goal
for my costume was a character ripped straight from the pages of The Arabian Nights.
After seeing the rows of luscious pearls worn by a character on American Horror Story: Freak Show and subsequently adding them to the mix, the
resulting costume is probably a culturally-insensitive pastiche of maharaja,
sultan, genie, sheik, Gabor sister, and transvestite. I'll go with genie.
Even dressed as a genie, the most important question I can ask myself when I'm trying on new clothes is, "Is this flattering or is this fattering?" Swathed in at least ten yards of reflective, bargain-bin upholstery material, I think the answer is clear.
I blame the bird.
What's that old saying about removing at least one accessory before leaving the house?
But there was no way that I was going to ditch my greatest accessory by far.
For some reason, I was hell-bent on a stylized, avian companion. I began creating the
scepter parrot before starting on any other part of my costume. With undue confidence,
I just cut directly into my fabric (remnants from Mary's Christmas dress last year and
another dress yet to be shared) and hoped for the best - it actually worked! The eyes
are made of buttons and rhinestones; the scepter is a brass ring with a finial made from
beads, buttons, and rhinestones, resting atop a length of gold-painted bamboo onto
which poor polly was rather unceremoniously skewered.
Managing to complete my costume a full three weeks before Halloween, I was left with ample time to follow the click-bait leading to at least two online articles dedicated to the prevention of offensive Halloween costumes. Having received some concerned feedback on this forum about my choice of vintage-style "gypsy" costume last year, I sincerely hope that this year's costume (a well-intentioned, mythical genie) falls on the correct side of the costume-decency dividing line. Honestly, I figured the most offensive part about it would be the fact that everyone encouraged me to go bare-chested!!!
Wearing the costume to the 91st-Annual Anaheim Halloween Parade, there was absolutely
no way I could subject the good people of Anaheim (home of Disneyland) to a nearly-nude
Mr. Tiny. Instead of going topless, I opted for a "fleshtone" (although whose flesh, I know
not) shirt, removing the ribbed cuffs and collar and replacing them with gold braided trim.
I used the same trim to cobble together the remodeled rubber slippers I got
for $1.50 at everyone's favorite Japanese discount store, Daiso. The curly
toes are finished off by dangling beads.
Fattering though it may be, the costume fulfills all of my comfort requirements as well as the usual budgetary concerns. The only things I had to buy specifically for the costume were the slippers and the window-pane taffeta; everything else was unearthed from the bottomless pit of my fabric/craft stash (You may call me Prudence of Arabia). Dare I say that my costume was nearly my "wish" come true? Rather than a sophisticated, sometimes-sinister sultan, I think I more closely resemble Jeannie's junior-genie, Babu...
Intro from Hanna-Barbara's Jeannie cartoon
You only have a few days left; what are you going to be for Halloween?!!
I'm seriously considering changing the name of this blog to "True Confessions" - mostly because I have spent the last two months cleaning out the family garage. You read that correctly - the last two months! After nine donations to the thrift store, ten oversized trash barrels filled, four truckloads hauled away by a scrap metal company, a large hazardous-waste removal (paint, car fluids, chemicals, etc.), three take-what-you-want days for family and friends, and two illegal visit to a commercial dumpster, the garage could still appear as the "before" reel on an episode of Hoarders (a necessary preamble so as to set the scene for one of the most frightening experiences of my life). Warning: It's about to get all American Horror Story up in here.
Many years ago, around Halloween time, I was working on a term paper for an Ethics class. As I am wont to do, I put off the paper until the last minute, foolishly believing that the time constraint would inspire genius. Distracted by the many wonders of a ceiling fan, I lollygagged in our spare room (a room that happens to share a wall with the garage) waiting for inspiration to strike. As the fan circulated the air, it also began circulating a faint-but-foul odor throughout the four walls of my paper-writing prison. Recognizing the importance of gazing endlessly into the void of Microsoft Word, I decided that the odor would be another problem for another day. The following day, the temperatures rose in direct correlation to the threat level of the odor. But papers must be written! I vainly hoped that somebody else in the house would notice the smell first, allowing me to coyly bat my eyes and innocently respond, "What smell?" when they inquired if I had also picked up on the scent (because, you know, ethics). Unfortunately, I was to learn later that I was up against champion contestants in the I-Smell-Nothing Game. By the third day, neither the term paper nor the the smell were improving.
Now unlike the garage, the spare room is rather tidy with very few places for a lingering odor to hide out. So, after a cursory inspection of my surroundings, I plodded outside to the garage. The roll-up door retracted only an inch before I knew that the call was coming from INSIDE THE GARAGE!!! Faced by mountains of boxes, a piano, surfboards, Christmas decorations, guitar parts, thrift store treasures, power tools, garden gnomes, and long-forgotten furniture pieces, I knew that the better part of my afternoon would be dedicated to ferreting out the unholy odor. It became a real game of cat-and-mouse as nose-blindness set in. Gingerly shifting the contents of the garage, I grew increasingly panicky as I waded deeper into the abyss. Next to a tumbled tote of my Halloween decor, I found a few realistic ravens, some plastic spiders, and one of those hissing, black cats with the glaring eyes and bared teeth. It wasn't until I leaned over to return it to the bin with the rest of the decorations that I remembered I didn't have a Halloween Cat! Neighbors gathered after they heard the scream.
The call to Animal Control went something like this:
"Hi, um, [sniff] we have a cat in our garage...but it's not our cat. Actually, I'm allergic to cats so we couldn't have a cat even if we wanted one. Oh yeah, [sniff, sniff] and this cat is dead. But we didn't kill it. It's just dead. And my sister and her husband moved to Hawaii and left half their stuff, so the garage is really full, so the cat is kinda hidden and I'm afraid of cats because I'm allergic to them. So do you guys come and get cats? Because we don't want it. And also, we're not hoarders [sniff]."
Convincing, no?
Inspired by the Halloween season and a desire to fill the serious feline void I discovered in our holiday decor, I set out to make a proper, odor-free, Halloween Cat with materials found only in my fabric stash.
Et voilà! Le Chat Noir
I was forced to dress it in a jaunty, little Halloween outfit...just
so I could tell it from all the other dead cats in the garage.
I never think of myself as the type of person to sit around making precious little
outfits for dolls but I guess Halloween is a time for many a cruel discovery.
The jacket is a few scraps of my favorite Marimekko print and the pants are made
of an autumnal-plaid remnant that will be featured in a forthcoming Sew What?! post.
Having used the faux fur for a few different projects, I didn't realize until the cat was near
completion that it was quite so shaggy. At one point I could have continued making
the cat or gone all the way and made a replica of Eddie Munster's beloved Woof-Woof.
Instead, I held the course, choosing to give it a little haircut along the way.
The "eyes" have it!
The face went through many iterations; in the end, I decided that simple was best.
The crescent-shaped eyes are made of vintage buttons and vinyl.
I thought I was done, but looking over the cat, I decided that it needed a finishing touch - a hat.
Believe it or not, I just happened to have a miniature, coral-orange, conical hat in stock that I
trimmed with rickrack and a black pompom.
By the time I finished Le Chat Noir, I was reminded that as hard as I try, I will never be a "cat person."
The closest I might come would be this rather literal interpretation of "cat person."
As if I wasn't already questioning my decision to make a stuffed cat, I now realize it
could have been worse; I could be the crazy cat stuffed into the cat's pajamas!!!
(Source)
Epilogue: Just in case you were wondering, the Animal Control technician assured us that the cat was elderly and had died of natural causes. He explained that often times cats, aware that the end of their ninth life is drawing nigh, will seek out a comfortable place to expire. I was placated by his attestations of our innocence...but not by the fact that the cat's "comfortable place" was the cushion of the vintage sofa given to me by my grandmother. Undoubtedly you've heard of the remarkable images imprinted on the Shroud of Turin; well, imagine the shroud is threadbare upholstery and instead of the vestigial visage of Christ our Lord, the shadowed simulacrum of a former feline. Yep, I am definitely not a cat person.
