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Wednesday, December 29, 2010

10 Minutes in Washington






Opening a can of rambutan on my kitchen counter, I look outside to see accumulating fog on the thinly snow covered ground.  Grabbed the Nikon and managed to get some snow in my Sperry's (totally inappropriate shoe, I know) but I do like these ghostly shots of the North.

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Sister Blog: Swig & Tipple

I'm beginning a new blog with more of a central focus: perfume.

It's long been something I've loved and been fascinated with, but I never really felt like I knew as much about perfume as I should...and didn't really have a medium/outlet to hone my olfactory skills, you know?

Well here it is: Swig & Tipple

Of course everything is still in the works, but it would be awful sweet of you to stop by.

I'll be keeping my day to day things posted here, but I feel I'll be transferring a lot of my attention towards Swig & Tipple because..well...I'm feeling good about it.

Much love.



Friday, December 24, 2010

Touch of Mink by Sally Hansen Swatch


I've always found it unspeakably helpful when bloggers swatch and review products of the cosmetic persuasion, so I think I'll return the favor from here on out.  Here is Sally Hansen's "Touch of Mink" in cool natural lighting, I would describe it as a fully opaque dark chocolate brown...quite a bit darker than in the bottle.  It's witchy and glossy and looks particularly tar-like with a top coat.  As always, Sally Hansen's salon line delivers great coverage because of the thick flat brush and a formula that isn't to runny or to thick (example: Hard-As-Wraps). I'm loving all the subtle nail colors cosmetic lines have been coming out with...something a little more risqué than mauve.  I have three shades from this particular line (Evening Fog, Wet Clay, and Touch of Mink) that I hope to swatch soon. 

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Tiny Swag










A taste of the tiny swag I added to my store.

Monday, December 20, 2010

Update

Follow my blog with bloglovin

I'm now using Blog Lovin'!

Strut That Thing



Strut That Thing - Cripple Clarence Lofton

On Baby How Can It Be? Songs of Love, Lust, and Contempt From The 1920's and 1930's

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Winter Wishlist No. {I}

I'm finally back to posting again, thanks in part to Christmas break and a fresh new look for the blog to ring in the season.  Here are just a few things I've hunted down recently--many of which I've already acquired or intend to.  

{1} Silver Kit Fox Tail: Not to be mistaken for a fox kit, the Kit Fox is a unique breed of small fox with a bushy full tail and my knicknamesake. Purchased mine on Ebay for about $15.  Between $10 - $50
{2}Phillip Lim Bra: I love soft lingerie with a few structural earmarks leftover.  The Corner: $88 Now $44
{3}Stanley 16 oz. Thermos in Hammertone Green    $25 at ShopStanley-pmi.com
{4}Kiehl's Roller Ball Essence Oil in Musk: Some may recall the origins of Kiehl's Musk as a 1920's "Love Oil" concoction...now represented in the Smithsonian collection of American Pharmacological products.  Intended as a replacement for my dwindling bottle of the EDT, it's said to have more animalistic qualities in the oil form.   $26 at Kiehls.com
{5}Amethyst Crystal Necklace - Bids starting at $34 on Ebay
{6}Vintage Brass Cat Pill Box - I purchased this on Etsy. This is the sort of thing I want to leave my kids.
{7}Sliced Amethyst Pendants - $12 on Ebay
{8}Gold Stacked Armor Ring - Very similar to a Pamela Love creation.  Found this one on Ebay for $15
{9} Citrine Pendant - Found this on Ebay for about $10
{10}The Giulia Studded Oxford -$32 at Karmaloop


Listen to "That Old Black Magic" by Louis Prima and Keely Smith here.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Par Avion

Rarely do any of us modern folk send or receive letters via old fashioned postal service anymore.  But a telegram? Unheard of! It made my receiving one in the mail today from a good friend of mine in Houston all the more special.  If you have something to say (in a clever fashion--his words), drop by Telegramstop.com to formulate your vintage message complete with old world typography and authentic telegram wording.  Many thanks to Kieran for being so thoughtful.




Considering I lived in Australia for three years, it was good to see a Southern Cross!

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

John Derian for Target: Haul No.1

I don't like the term "haul".  I feel that in this context, it implies some senseless procuring of goods not even for the sake of boasting but more for a little self assurance that the quota of acquisitions (whatever it is for whoever it is) has been met. Trust a chronic materialist to have already done some extensive rumination on the psychology of shopping! This being said, almost anything by John Derian, the New York based biologically inspired (amongst other things: various world cultures, vintage typography, other things that give me hypertension) designer and merchant.

I've been predisposed to be less than impressed by any "So and so for Target".  Even the Liberty for London line, which one would think would be easy to apply, pretty much did nothing for me.  But...John Derian?! I LOVE John Derian.  And the designs selected translate so much better with the blank slate style Target products.  If Target keeps this up, I may just be giving it a few more chances.







Dragonfly Appetizer Melamine Plate : 1.99

Cutlery Appetizer Melamine Plate: 1.99

Feather Melamine Tray: 14.99



Marble Dye 3-Ring Binder: 4.99

I say haul No.1 because I know I won't be able to resist going back for more marble dye print stationary and a botanical themed 3-tiered cake tray.  And vintage typographical notebooks I have no need for. And fabric lined storage boxes with scientific bug diagrams. And mugs with cameos. And those picture frames.  I'll stop.




Or better yet I'll order from the man himself...



Saturday, September 11, 2010

A Study In Paint Chips

If you're anything like me, a waltz into your local Home Depot or Lowe's leads you straight to the paint aisle.  Will is making me breakfast bar table to go under my studio window--just enough for a couple to dine or a budding blogger to have her morning tea or joe.  I immediately began rumination on a color scheme and here is proof I take color very seriously.

Summer Rye and Deep Mink




Ironwood and Weather Vane


Valspar has a fascinating collection of historic colors such as 
Mark Twain Gray Brick which I paired with Porcini.


Cool Jazz with Napoleon (a lovely deep prussian) and Gray Flannel


Can anyone resist names like London Coach and Vintage Gray?


I adore Blackstrap, appropriately named after the molasses.  It was 
also the name I gave to a former tea company. Paired with Velveteen Crush.




Brick and Black Raisin


Arctic Cotton, Gray Goose, Slate Pebble







If you can't tell, I have a penchant for grays. I've tried to add captions only to those chips which are slightly unreadable so message me for any clarification.  All of these colors are from the Valspar collection.  I would love to hear your favorites.

Friday, September 10, 2010

The Americana

I'm a third culture kid in a few respects. I was born in Fort Worth, Texas to a half Chinese and half Filipina Mother (fresh off the boat if I might add) and a half German half Polish Father (whose parents were fresh off the boat). You could say my parents were both third culture kids too, and a half and a half makes a whole despite my being an amalgamation of quarters...if this isn't confusing enough.  I grew up in a single bedroom apartment in Arlington while, for the earliest part of my existence, my Dad worked as a computer scientist at LTV and my Mom studied nursing at Texas Women's.  In our tiny kitchen we cooked Filipino food everyday and made trips to Europe and the Philippines.

Google street view of the apartments I grew up in. Bleak paradise for a little girl.

After a sojourn in North Carolina for a couple years, we really packed it up.  But since I'd moved thrice before then, I was used to having my life in boxes. The catchphrase of those times was: "I'm moving to Australia." It felt fictitious, this magical carpet ride kind of journey to a mysterious and magical place. When I look back, why was I not scared or bewildered?  It felt so normal, like it was exactly what I expected from my family.

We spent months in the Philippine Islands before hand to stay with my numerous relatives in Manila.  I went to a Chinese school to hone my mathematics skills, or rather, preserve them. They were non-existent and still are. My first day, I cried my way home after boys on the playground jeered "Americana! Americana!" as they pointed and smiled.  I didn't feel the slightest bit Filipina then.  Aside from the sweltering humidity and the city streets that always smelled of rotting fruit, I have fond memories of watching kids play "market" in the back of a truck with native foliage as their produce.  By some unspoken social code I couldn't partake, I guess I was too "Americana". I can still feel the springy cracked fake leather seats of the colorful jeepneys downtown, and the spicy dumplings on toothpicks from the mall, and the Alateris tree in our former backyard, where my cousins and I would pick the raisin like fruit that I was always warned would make you poop. Years before, in Palawan, I had waded my way out to some dingies with another foreign boy and both of us came out wailing and covered in jellyfish stings. My ass smelled like calamansi for days. I found a stray puppy in our front yard and our maid washed him up and we named him Cookie. Like I said, fond memories.  But they may as well stay that way, because when you're that little...reality and memory are one.



Let's just say, that I was already incredibly disjointed by the time I reached Australia.  It was now comforting to be around white civilization even if they spoke in a cotton mouthed jargon only I had the ability to decipher as evidenced by my parents nervous laughter.  We spent a couple weeks in a campground in the outskirts of Adelaide and  I recall feeding bread to ducks, and having a slice grabbed out of my hand in a literal fly-by from a bird who I swear had eyebrows.   Settling into my school was easy enough. We all wore "jumpers" and legionnaires hats to ward off impending skin cancer from the o-zone hole. I was asked: do you have movies in America?  What about pencil sharpeners?

Boys had crushes on me (a previously rare occurrence) because I was again, the Americana. Our class would frequently take walks to the beach to hold sandcastle competitions and my groups had a knack for winning (I'm handy with seaweed?). The novelty of being American faded away and reappeared when we collectively moved schools in true Australian fashion, to segregate middle school or "college" by gender.   At Marymount, I was again, the Americana.  They voted me class captain of my house despite my lack of physical ability. Yes, just like Harry Potter. I was in "McEwan", and our color was purple.  If Gryffindors are brave, and Ravenclaws are smart then I imagine McEwan's as beautiful.  Just go along with it.

In the summer, my family and I would travel.  I've seen more outback and eaten more kangaroo than the average Australian, and I've eaten more fish n' chips then one person should eat.  I had the pleasure of riding "Gold Kangaroo" on the Indian Pacific Railway across the Nullarbor desert for three days to Perth.  We ate fillet mignon in the dining car.  I had the fortunate misfortune of staying the night in a room at a pub just outside of the Bungle Bungles, the sink and bed were probably from the early 1900's...and had since then not been touched.  I saw Ring-tailed wallabies in Arkaroola (they are found nowhere else in the world) and In a nearby pub, a drunken man made some remarks about Americans then proceeded to tell us about a billabong only he knew about. We followed his drunken directions the next day and found that perfect billbong, surrounded by huge jasper boulders. I climbed them in flip flops.  I slept on a blanket under the Sydney Opera House, awaiting the hour of midnight when the harbor bridge would erupt in fireworks to ring in the year 2001.We often saw cockatoos and wallabies in parks and golf courses, and one night we spotted a koala in the crook of a eucalyptus on the campus of the university my Mom was attending.  It sounds glorious, to me at least.

Google map's street view is an incredible thing.  Here is a shot of my street in the suburb of Seacliff.



I frequented the Palm Tree Cafe for lollies and slushies.  It was about a five minute walk from our place.



My first school, St. Theresa's.



After church on Sundays we would often go to the local Dutch store. My Dad spent time in the Netherlands and I would pick out tiny ceramic dogs of various breeds and Dutch pastry mix in boxes while he spoke broken dutch with the owner. 


When our visa ran out, we spent three months in New Zealand. I think I can rightfully say I've been saturated with white Polynesia.  But I never wanted to leave.  It was heartbreaking and tragic and I think about it frequently, maybe everyday.  It isn't fair to the states that the first place I saw upon my "homecoming" was Los Angeles. My ideas about America were ripped apart.  Probably the greatest realization of my young years is how deceived I was about the great America. 

 If it sounds like I've been rambling, I have.  All I have to offer now are memories.  I have very little understanding as why I have frequent tormenting wanderlust, why I care little for the "big city", why I can't relate to my "fellow" Americans and why I feel so incredibly lonely and old in my young years. Despite feeling so disconnected and out of place, I can't deny that I'm a part of the American culture.  I started writing this when my fingers were jittery from a bitterly strong cup of coffee to ward off the early September chills of Washington.  I consume and am consumed by TV shows and gossip and narrow world views. I have that decidedly American streak of craziness.  But most nights I would rather stay home and read or write than get blitzed on some cheap poison like others in my age group. That's my idea of cathartic. It takes me away and hints at the idea that magical places have happened and can happen again.  It tells me softly that there is some method to the madness, that I'm not entirely weird, that there may be others like me.  

It's all very bittersweet. I apologize for how long and drawn out this is. I know everyone likes short and sweet. But sometimes when you start, you just have to let it all spill out.  When's it all said and done, I have only one unique conclusion.  I am still the Americana.

Friday, August 27, 2010

The Case

A beautiful black vintage leather case, embossed with some type of gold Moroccan quilted design, for my new frames. I picked this up at a junk shop in Edison, Washington. The facade makes a world of difference, don't you agree?