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

Sew What?! A Shimmering '60s Minidress???

How often does it happen that you start out with every intention of creating a shimmering, '60s minidress...

Only to end up - after hours of sewing and hand-finishing - with Jane Jetson's housecoat?

Sorry, George...

It probably didn't help that this Mr. Tiny Original was made out of a lightweight upholstery fabric featuring alternating stripes of purple and gold lamé (recognizable from Mary's red Happy Holiday Frock); the metallic fabric sewn into a Star Trekian v-shaped yoke only added to the mid-century, space-age sensibility. 

Yes, Mary was fated to look like a dress-extra from that lesser known sci-fi masterpiece, Mars Needs Matrons.  

I really should have seen this one coming.

As I don't often sew in shades of violet, I was devoid of an appropriate lining
material.  In typical cheapskate make-do fashion, I dove into my stash of remnants,
emerging with this piece of Marimekko's beautiful Tulipunainen print (1960). 

Brainstorming for a way to elevate the humble housecoatery of my creation, I returned to the sewing machine and made a matching pair of fully-lined dance pants.  

Dance pants or decorative diaper cover?  You be the judge.

It was only then I realized that, when paired with the brevity of the hemline, the briefs only served to make the dress look like a '60s babydoll nightie.  Undeterred, Mary took the dress out for its first spin last year at Jonathan Toubin's Soul Clap at Downtown LA's Regent Theater.  So busy dancing were we that, of course, we photo'd not a single op.

Fortunately, representatives from LA Weekly were on hand to catch Mary "Tighten Up."
(Source)

Truly, the only pictures we have come courtesy of the Weekly's Lena Lecaro.
(Source)

Languishing among the racks of barely-worn Mr. Tiny creations, this dress came to mind when Mary was deciding on potential outfits for the Brian Wilson "Pet Sounds" concert we attended over the weekend.  As the event was the highlight of California's Mid-State Fair (and the lives of these two California kids), we attempted to make the most of our surroundings by making our way to the midway! 

Armed with only our phones, we did our best to

capture the ambient light provided by the rides.

In honor of the wheel, we call this dress "Bueller."

(brought to you by Spacely's Space Sprockets).

Mary swings with...well, swings!

My favorite ride has always been the carnival swings.

I love the feeling of flying amongst the romantic portraits 

of all those lovely ladies painted on the canopy.

Details of the dress are few in these photos but one is certainly evident.

Like all women who wear dresses, Mary was particularly pleased with the pockets!!!

This dress marks the millionth time I have kidded Mary for rarely/never wearing the clothes I make for her.  After two nights out on the town, I tell myself that I am allowed to count this dress among my successes.  Without any resentment, I am satisfied if the future of this frock is relegated to becoming the futuristic housecoat it was always meant to be...I guess "[It] Just Wasn't Made for These Times."

"I Just Wasn't Made for These Times" - The Beach Boys (1966)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Sew What?! A 1950s Circle Cape SUIT-ed for Fall

Before we succumb to Yuletide's wintry embrace, may we please take a moment to share with you one autumnally-appropriate "Sew What?!" creation before its seasonality expires?  Pretty please...?  Living in practically-seasonless Southern California, barometric changes factor relatively low in my design process; what works in May may be easily donned in December.  This particular ensemble, however, has a style, a silhouette, and a color story just made for the fall.

Our design & photography team - Mary, Mr. Tiny, Jessie, and Fabian

In a rush to get some pictures taken before everyone's focus shifted entirely to Christmas, we hoped that one of our amazing photographer friends had some time in their schedule for an impromptu shoot.  We were thrilled when our pal, Jessie Stopnik, an incredibly-talented professional photographer, deigned to answer her phone (even when she knew it was us calling).  When we learned that Fabian Fioto was also available, we all hopped in his '55 Buick and headed to the park.

Ideally suited for suits, Autumn always has me hankering to create a chic, two-piece ensemble.
As my tailoring skills are all but non-existent, I decided to create a sort of unstructured suit (a
pencil skirt and matching cape) out of a one-dollar-per-yard plaid I have had in my stash for years. 

For one who can't be bothered matching plaids, I am like a moth drawn to tartan's heavenly flame.  There is something so decidedly traditional about the multi-colored warp and weft, something so collegiate/preppy, something so "Fall."  Trying hard to capture any kind of Fall that we could muster, I was overjoyed when the leaves started fluttering down from the trees in our backyard.  Thinking quickly, I grabbed a rake and a trash bag and gathered them up for the shoot.  Okay, the secret is out; what you can see in the photos is strategically-placed yard debris.  What you can't see in the photos is my sausage-y fingers scattering leaves like a spastic flower girl at a November wedding.  

Yes, with me on official leaf duty and Jessie masterfully manning the camera, Fabian was left to assist - learning quickly that operating the reflector (my usual position) is no easy task!!!

The big idea behind the cape is literally just a big circle with two arm holes.
The top of the circle cascades over the shoulders creating a shawl collar.

It's a kind of "convertible" collar that can be pulled up should the top on the convertible be down.
(Fabian won't forgive me if I allow this to imply that his is a convertible Buick - it is not a convertible.)

Every inch of once-raw edge on the cape is finished with self bias binding.
Thusly, the cape can be worn backwards, forwards, upside-down or inside-out should the
wearer choose.  The curved hem allows it to fall in a pretty dynamic way no matter what.

It always strikes me as funny that every time we prepare to photograph an outfit, Mary asks me for a detailed drawing of how I want her hair and make-up to be styled.  Without fail, she emerges from her toilette with something completely different (and usually better).

Wearing a vintage mock turtleneck and her own jewelry, I think she nailed it!
But let's just make sure that the only things falling from the tree are leaves...

As fortunate as I consider myself to be - surrounded by attractive people with legitimate talent - I can't help but feel a bit like an impostor in their midst.  I suppose a feeling of inadequacy is an often-universal symptom of the creative mind; Jessie, a self-described lifestyle photographer, wasn't confident in her ability to do vintage-styled fashion photography.  Having photographed some of Mary's past outfits (here and here), we knew that she was more than capable of capturing some beautiful photos.

I mean, even in our obligatory, "That's a Wrap" jump shot,
Jessie is really the only one to achieve success!

In this season of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for talented friends and family who allow me to participate in truly collaborative experiences.  An enormous THANK YOU must be issued to Jessie for taking the time to share her talents with us.  Our THANKS also go to Fabian for assisting us with his photographic knowledge of cars and camera reflectors.  And, heck, we'll even give a THANK YOU to Mary who, if nothing else, kept an errant "Leaf Boy" in check.

"Um...where are those dang 'Autumn Leaves?'"

They're right here!!!

"Autumn Leaves" - Keely Smith

Since we know that you like what you see, please feel free to view more of Jessie's work on her blog and her Instagram.  Fabian recently created a cool, online portfolio of his work that can be viewed here.


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Sew What?! WISHING that Halloween was "1,001 NIGHTS"

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?!!


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Crazy Crafty: Le Chat Noir

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.

"The Great Cat Family" (1956)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Sew What?! 1930s African Loungewear

I take quite seriously the requests I've received asking me to include more sewing/design posts into the mix.  But ever since Mary started her new career as an air hostess, I have been hard pressed to wrangle that gadfly, rarely able to find a time when schedules can be coordinated for fittings, finishings, and photo shoots.  Lest you think that Mr. Tiny's Workshop has taken down its shingle, please be assured that I have continued to slave away at my trusty Bernina, churning out multiple new looks just waiting to be captured on camera.  So, be not dismayed; finally, the stars have aligned, allowing for Mary, Mr. Tiny, and Fabian to all be in the same place at the same time!  Here is a Sew What?! about which I think all involved can be proud.

See!  What a proud moment...
Behind the scenes is sooooo glamorous.

In last year's mania for African-themed ensembles (see here, here, and here), I picked up four yards of a beautifully-printed African cotton at the thrift store for less than one-dollar per yard.

Wanting to avoid full-blown African overload, I sent this lovely, if temporarily
woe-begotten, fabric to the foothills of my fabric Kilimanjaro for a full calendar
year until it was ready for a return trip to the summit.

Making the ten-minute trek from our house, we did our best to scout a location that would be a suitable Serengeti stand-in (bonus points for not requiring those pesky antimalarial injections).  In the glow of Southern California's late-afternoon sun, Fabian worked his mystical, moody photographic magic.

The two-piece ensemble consists of a six-gored, maxi-length trumpet skirt and a cropped,
bateau-neck top with flutter sleeves and an oversized, self-fabric rosette at the neck.

The pieces were created with a definite nod to both the silhouettes of 1930s loungewear and the economy of '30s-era sewing; four yards sounds like a fair amount of material but not as much when one considers that a full-length skirt on Mary measures fifty-two inches long .

Styled with an armful of metal bangles, gold platform shoes, tousled hair and a
coordinating head wrap, Mary gave the look something completely modern.

And what's more modern than flying?  I ask you.

Speaking of flying...
The flutter sleeves were achieved by isolating the pattern of
conjoined circles in the print, finishing them with a satin stitch.

And so the sun slowly sinks on wacky tacky summer fashion

"Why don't you take a picture, it'll last longer?"

Um...we did.

With a huge vote of gratitude for artist and model, I anxiously await our next collaboration.  You can bet that there is at least one autumnal ensemble in the pictorial pipeline!

Hip-Hip-Hooray!!!

As is custom, we concluded the day with our usual jump shot.  I'll give you three guesses which one I am.

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Sew What?! Life's Too Short to Match Plaids

It's the easy ones that always give me trouble.  It's also the hard ones that always give me trouble.  Come to think of it, sewing always gives me trouble.  I guess I'm not very good at sewing.

My perennial complaint is that sewing is a necessary evil, its utility lying solely in transforming the ideas in my brain and the scribbles in my sketchbook into fabric-based realities.  I wish I could be one of those people who claims to find the act of sewing therapeutic but I get a pain from cutting and pinning...and from correcting my mistakes.

Exhibit A

The basic silhouette of this dress really couldn't be more simple; the margin for error was slim.  Feeling rushed to get it completed in Mary's absence, I hastily draped a skirt on a dress form and attached it to the bodice in a way that made it nearly impossible to remove when, upon her return, the fit was something awful.  The time I had spent matching the plaids, hand-picking the zipper, and hand-sewing the lining was all for naught, leaving me to wonder if it was even worth salvaging the dress.  As I ripped out all of my crude, uneven dainty, perfectly-spaced stitches, and hacked away the offending bits of skirt, I just knew that I would never get the plaids to line up the way they had before.  And then I had a sewing epiphany - life is just too dang short to match plaids!  After all, the first chapter in Mr. Tiny's wacky tacky Sewing Primer is dedicated to smoke and mirrors, the title being, "Distract 'Em with Oversize Flowers."

Having already cut the side sections of the bodice on the bias, I figured that as long as the vertical lines matched
from the bodice to the skirt, I could get away with my reckless placement of plaid.  I thought I'd try and confound you even further by making a garden's worth of self-fabric flowers so your eye would have no place to rest.  And in a final attempt at trickery I decided that the location for this shoot would place Mary in front of a mosaic wall in tonal blues that mimicked the blue check-pattern of the material.  Well, Did it work?

Because Mary's personal style has become so consistently inconsistent, I have decided to dedicate my design time to sewing things that are really portfolio builders for me as opposed to wardrobe builders for her.  Made from discount-bin, blue-checked cotton, this dress really has no practical place in a wardrobe anyhow.  The gown was born of thrift (using what I had in the stash) and a desire to try new techniques (a heaping headpiece, a one-shoulder dress, and bowers of fabric flowers).  Because the gown itself is a little unorthodox, I also wanted to stray, if ever so slightly, from such literal vintage-styling by encouraging Mary to create a more stark look with her hair and make-up. Thankfully, our collaborator and friend, Fabian, was available to work his photographic magic on our most recent fashion experiment.

Mary is always hounding me for dresses with pockets but she is NOT the boss of me!  I compromised 

by making a single pocket that is a large, lined, fabric flower disguised as part of the hip corsage.

For the headpiece, I cut approximately 457,879 bias strips of varying widths, starching them heavily

before turning them into flowers and attaching them to a chunky headband covered in self fabric.

Even with my fumble-fingered fixes, the dress is far from perfect.  But, as I said, my sewing is merely a means to an end.  An end if wherein I didn't find some sense of therapeutic relief, I might need actual therapy for my PTSD (Post-Traumatic Sewing Disorder).  The thing that haunts me most about sewing this look is that, even though the color and silhouette are completely different, the final product is so reminiscent of John Singer Sargent's most celebrated painting, Portrait of Madame X.

Madame M???
She's "Just That Type of Girl."

A big thanks to my favorite team, Mary and Fabian, for once again breathing energy and vitality into my humble, homemade creations.  I can't wait for the next time I get to be scolded by the pair of you for holding the reflector incorrectly!!!

Even though Fabian's car (a '55 Buick Super) is more famous than the three of us combined, I am honored to feature this photograph as a "THANK YOU" to Fabian.  In fact, it is my great pleasure to state, completely free from duress, that this first-class automobile is much prettier than Mary and emits far less noxious fumes...(Did I get that right, Fabian?).

"Just That Type of Girl" - Madame X

(If only the car in the video was a '55 Buick)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny