Look what they’ve done to my brain, Ma
Look what they’ve done to my brain
Well they picked it like a chicken bone
And I think I’m half insane, Ma
Look what they’ve done to my song
Cathy Horyn described it as
she’s probably right. in fact, I see what she’s saying. but, wouldn’t it be more fun if someone described Galliano’s latest stint as a tribute to the days of shopping at value village pre-ebay?
those were the days!
an endless heap of gold lame, sherbet colored taffeta, 1960s prom dresses, silk tunics and pantsuits with intricate beading and paisley trim. all for under $5.00!
it was a time when thrifting and wearing vintage was a huge faux pas. a secret uncovered and embraced by the very few: an awkward youth, a drama geek, an ecentric or an outcast who couldn’t afford gucci and guess labels, who were awful at layering colored tshirts with matching socks and keds.
somehow, molly ringwald’s character from pretty in pink spoke to us.
several years later, lady miss kier came along.
and suddenly we wore beehives and flips.
and our closets were packed with platforms and paisley pucci print dresses
and, of course, the thicker the eyeliner the better the cat eye.
so, in my head (at least for today) galliano’s latest journey is a time warp into my high school closet and a reminder of lady miss who inspired the groovy looks we used to wear to the raves downtown.
(deelite and lady miss kier photos from here).
may it begin with breakfast in bed
complete with toast, vegan margarine and half a canister of cinnamon.
I am reaching to find you Spider Woman.
I am a woman without a tribe.
Patternless with an empty loom, cheap and manufactured,
like the ones sold en route to the Grand Canyon.
A song from the weaver has failed to come
during the monsoon, there is only rain!
I struggle with my first stitch.
Today young weavers are instructed to find a spider web in the early morning dew glistening with sunlight and sparkles and place the palm of their right hand upon the spider’s webbing without destroying or damaging the web, and the gift of weaving will be transposed into the young weaver’s spirit forever.