Sew What?! Mexicali Folk Couture Strikes Again

I like to pretend that my refusal to purchase scads of souvenirs is some kind of transcendence into a realm of heightened spirituality like, "I don't need twelve pairs of toy castanets, I'll carry every beautiful moment of this Spanish vacation in my heart."  More likely, it is because I'm cheap and fat, and every penny saved on tchotchkes is a dollar earned toward döner kebabs, fun-flavored Kit Kats, or Croatian pizza.  Don't even get me started on Croatian pizza.   

Yes, I'm cheap, chubby, and, lo theses many years later, I'm still tripping on all the untouched pairs of castanets left all over the house.  Recuerdos de España.

Apparently, my enlightened attitude isn't shared by my sister because, from one of her work trips to Mexico, she returned with an avalanche of souvenirs.  I can just see her, overwhelmed by the splendor of the mercado, eagerly shouting, "I'll take one of everything!"

Quite conscious of my inability to control the sewing urge when handed a pile of interesting fabric, Mary made sure that her purchases included a few yards of a striped Mexican textile in three colorways.  This fabric presented a particular challenge because each length was only eighteen inches wide.  Knowing that some creative piecing would be in order, I started draping the fabric on the dress form. 

My personal design challenge was to incorporate each colorway into the completed ensemble.

After several rounds of pinning, I decided on a poncho with a contrast yoke featuring a large neckline bow.  To balance the volume of the poncho, I made a simple pencil skirt, creating the necessary yardage by joining the fabric at the selvages.

Fast becoming a signature of Mr. Tiny's Mexicali Folk Couture,
the poncho and its bow are trimmed in eighteen handmade pompoms.
I hemmed a remnant of the white fabric to make the headscarf; the hat
is a purchased souvenir.

Envisioning a mid-century counterpart to Mary's overzealous souvenir hound, my concept for a photo shoot involved a classic car full of colorful souvenirs.  Time and finance are usually the fodder for the  epic battle waged between my lofty concepts and meager reality.  Thankfully, Mary's convertible Corvair, a million tissue-paper flowers, and our reliable friend-photographer, Fabian, came to my rescue.

When I told them that I wanted it to look like a sixty-year-old editorial from
Harper's Bazaar or Life Magazine, Mary and Fabian got right down to business.

Fabian always has a deft way of combining fashion and automotive photography.

Mary's shades are themselves a souvenir from our summer adventures in Venice.

"I have no impulse control and I don't care!"

As much as I loved Fabian's photographs, I couldn't help but notice my failings as a stylist; the matching basket purse I made is barely visible in any of the pictures.  And so, I feel compelled to give the purse its due.

The basket purse follows the color blocking on the outfit and, like the poncho, it
is trimmed in yellow pompoms.  If you're keeping score, that makes TWENTY!!! 

As much as I love it, I'm not sure how many opportunities Mary will have to wear this outfit in its entirety; like most of my (mis)adventures in design, it scratched a creative itch, allowing me to move on to the next project.  Thanks to Mary and Fabian for skipping the "Tijuana Taxi" and hitching a ride on the Mr. Tiny bandwagon!

"Tijuana Taxi" - Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass (1966)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Crazy Crafty: I Si-Si A Souvenir Tote Bag in Your Future

There was a time (a time in which we still might be living) when every American woman visiting Mexico came back with a souvenir photograph of a zebra-painted burro, a tourist jacket, and a straw tote covered in yarn embroidery and palm-leaf appliqué.  Heck, Mary had at least seven of the straw bags in a variety of colors and sizes before she ever even set foot in Mexico.  It isn't that these souvenirs are terribly rare or terribly exotic, quite the opposite; they are rather inexpensive, readily available, and a definite rite of passage - passage across the Mexico-US border in which forgetful tourists begin panic-buying souvenirs for all the folks at home.

Tijuana - 1955
My grandmother (center) with my father beside her.
My uncle is riding the burro.

In sifting through the wacky tacky archives, I found the above photo and one such straw tote bag, purchased at a thrift store.  The body and the handles/hardware were in decent shape but the decorations had certainly experienced much sunnier holidays south of the border.

Looking very much like it had witnessed more than its fair share
of fiestas, this was the sorry state in which we found the bag.

In an effort to make way between the piles of newspapers and stacks of empty tuna fish cans for guests to maneuver through the hoarder's paradise that is wacky tacky headquarters, we are midway through an unprecedented clean-out.  But the options to rid ourselves of this pitiful piece were quite limited - it was either fodder for the local landfill or a one-way ticket back to the thrift store (this would not have been the first time we paid for something at a thrift store only to donate it back again).  The options to overhaul it, however, were limitless!  It was time to break the buying/donating cycle and turn modern medical practice on its ear by taking this literal sad sack north of the border for a fun facelift.

I started by removing the shredded floral clusters and
giving the frayed yarn a well-deserved haircut.

Just happening to have yarn in shades of "close-enough" green and orange,
I grabbed a big needle and began to touch-up the embroidered leaves.

Mid-makeover, I liked the way that the my not-quite-a-color-
match yarn added some variegation and depth to the leaves.

Once the bag and the leaves were stabilized, it was time to complete the makeover; after all, there are serious responsibilities one must consider after deflowering a virgin tote bag.  I suppose I could have tried to resurrect the palm-leaf flowers but they were so trashed, so lifeless, and so...brown; and it just wouldn't be a true "Crazy Crafty" project unless a strong dose of color was injected.

Continuing in my preferred medium of craft store yarn, I made
pom pom flowers in the other two colors I had in the stash.

A minimally invasive facelift with maximum results.

After all the effort of the sad sack makeover, I decided
that a fabric lining would be the perfect finishing touch.

With the tote bag complete, the thought occurred to me that anyone foolish enough to carry a full lamb's-worth of yarn around on a second-hand purse during the summer months might also need some protection from the sun (if not the curious stares of passers-by).

Using the purse as a guide, I embroidered a Put A Lid On It
Sun Hat with the same leaf-and-pom pom-flower motif.

Just like the newly-refurbished tote bag, the hat is also topped by a pom pom. 

As I've mentioned time and again, a matchy-matchy ethos is the backbone of wacky tacky design.  So while the hat may not share a similar provenance to the tote the way a sombrero would, we think that this matching set is perfect for a Puerto Vallarta pool party or a caprice in Cabo San Lucas.

"Pardon me, do you know the way to San Jose?"

With all this talk of south-of-the-border souvenirs, we are in the mood to take a "Tijuana Taxi" for another round of swinging souvenir shopping!!!  So much for our big clean-up and clear-out...

"Tijuana Taxi" - Heb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass (Scopitone)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Hi-Jolly Gift Shop

There is no other way to say this - I am utterly disappointed in myself.  No matter how hard I try, I am constantly perpetuating stereotypes.  In most cases it is unfair to make a sweeping generalization about a particular segment of society; it seems even more unfair to realize that the same sweeping generalization is entirely true about oneself.  The time has come for me to admit something.  My name is Mr. Tiny.  I am fat and I am jolly.  It's not just my predilection for green vegetables (you know, like the Jolly Green Giant).  It's not just that my belly shakes when I laugh like a bowl full of jelly (Jolly Old Saint Nicholas).  It's that the age-old perception of the cheerfully chunky rings true...at least in my case.  I have plenty of moody moments but, all things considered, I have a disposition that is generally jolly - especially when I am exploring someplace as interesting as Hi-Jolly Gift Shop on a jolly holiday in Arizona.

See what I mean?
Jumping for Jolly.

Opened sometime in the 1940's (according to the perhaps less-than-jolly shopkeeper), Hi-Jolly was a place that forced us into a situation of some pretty reckless driving as we followed the siren song of souvenirs.  Based solely on the exterior, Hi-Jolly is one of those shops that makes you cross your fingers and hope that somehow traversing the threshold will transport you back to the glory days of the American Southwest - dreaming that all of the souvenirs would be just as they were on a warm April day in 1941.  That theory and the hand-painted signs made a lot of claims that we were anxious to put to the test.

"Souvenirs, Copper, Windbells, Indian Jewelry, Sand Paintings, Moccasins, Western Belts,
 Cactus Plants, Mexican Pottery, T-Shirts, Steer Horns, and Figurines" - I'll take plenty of each!

The weathered, aqua posts supporting the
covered porch are studded in old bottle caps.  

They had me at matching belt & bola tie!

The signs were enough to get me to consider taking up permanent residence, and I hadn't even opened the door yet.  It was time to bite the proverbial bullet and enter.

I want everything to look like this.  Everything.

At first glance, Hi-Jolly is just as disappointing as every other tourist-trap gift shop.  Rife with tschotskes specific to nowhere, dream catchers made in Sri Lanka, neo-Southwest decorations, and Red Hat Society paraphernalia (is that still a thing?), it would've been easy to turn on our heels and beat a hasty retreat to the rental car.  Myopic would we be if we failed to take a few moments to focus our eyes and discover the best parts of Hi-Jolly.

A bounty of Native American chalkware busts.
I wanted all of them; unable to decide on a single
 one, I foolishly decided on none.

Cactus Candy
How great are those graphics and the jolly green saguaro?

I couldn't find the Arizona corollary for kissing Dutch figures,
 but I was sure I'd be able to find a place for them in the yard.

Curiouser and curiouser.
Dead stock 60's dolls are relegated to a cardboard box.
We also found vintage velvet paintings leaning against a
back wall; upon closer inspection, they were dirty and torn.

A rack full of risque, novelty greeting cards from the 70's.

I wanted to spend more time in Hi-Jolly searching for the other old-timey odds and ends that were hiding between racks of Arizona state magnets and cow patties encased in resin, but we were keeping a very tight schedule and needed to get back on track.  Although, I did have time to pick up one souvenir.

A tooled-leather wallet to replace the one I have that is actually
bursting at the seams.  This one has insets of cowhide...sorry PETA.

Is the service amazing?  No.  Is the shop air-conditioned?  No.  Is the spirit of Hi-Jolly's opening day still present in the narrow aisles packed with Native American "art" and Southwest souvenirs over seven decades later?  Yes.  If you find yourself in Mesa, AZ (which you undoubtedly will after you see some of the neato things that we have yet to share with you), be sure and stop by Hi-Jolly Gift Shop.  You'll be jolly glad that you did.

Still intent on dispelling the stereotype, I struck the

most un-jolly pose I could muster.  Nope...still jolly.

Hi-Jolly Gift Shop

4500 E Main St #2

Mesa, AZ

(480)832-5076

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny