the ugly earring

ug‧ly [uhg-lee] offensive to the sense of beauty; displeasing in appearance

Month: December, 2008

back to her roots

something tells me something peculiar stems from my southeast asian side.

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(from facehunter in singapore and jakarta)

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wonderful things

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unearthing eartha

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she was a turban-toting woman with great eyebrows

and, boy, could she sing.

when friends get older (so do the memories)

ANIMALS                

       Have you forgotten what we were like then
       when we were still first rate
       and the day came fat with an apple in its mouth

       it's no use worrying about Time
       but we did have a few tricks up our sleeves
       and turned some sharp corners

       the whole pasture looked like our meal
       we didn't need speedometers
       we could manage cocktails out of ice and water

       I wouldn't want to be faster
       or greener than now if you were with me O you
       were the best of all my days

                frank o'hara

(thank you *witness for finding this first)

*

a farewell note

foujita_et_youki1

…After a long and stormy relationship with Youki, Foujita left for Brazil, leaving her the following farewell note:

“I don’t have any more strength to fight in Paris …. Let me have the simple life which I dream of …. You now have a faithful friend, Robert …. who has taken my place and for him you are the dearest person in the world.”

youki (lucie badoul) later married the poet robert desnos.

a socialite’s sequin

cecilbeatonpaulagellibrand1928s

Paula Gellibrand by Cecil Beaton, 1928

Paula Gellibrand was like a Modigliani come to life. Rooms framed her. She dressed to the strict diktat of avant garde decorator Baroness d’Erlanger: for example, very plain nurses coifs or her nun’s habit wedding dress; otherwise, a hat trimmed with wisteria for the Ritz, or a coat of honey beige summer ermine to match the pigskin upholstery inside her Bentley. She married the Cuban-Castilian Marquis de Casa Maury, a Bugatti-driving Grand Prix ace. He owned the first Bermuda-rigged schooner in Europe, lost his fortune during the Wall Street Crash, and then remade it running the Curzon cinema in Soho.

Baba d’Erlanger, daughter of the Baroness, was Paula’s best friend, and another exotic addition to London nightlife. She grew up in Byron’s old house in Piccadilly, attended by a robed and turbaned marmaluke; her parents held magnificent children’s parties and dressed her up in gold. A distinctive belle laide, Baba’s black bob was hard and glossy like Chinese lacquer; she rimmed her eyes with thick khol, and painted her lips scarlet and the tips of her nails maroon. Her black robes and suits were very severe to contrast the prevalent chiffon plunge and emphasize her razor-shell figure. On the Riviera she wore swimsuits threaded with jewels, bunches of artificial fruit and a tarbush cap; in the late 30s she opened a shop in Paris selling Tyroclean beachwear. In 1923 she married Prince Louis de Facigny-Lucinge.

(from here

in her closet

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“Women who love hats don’t get jealous.  It makes them happy to see a hat that looks good on someone else.  Women who wear hats know who they are.”
–author unknown

(photo of annakim violette from here)

the do-no-wrongs

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it appears my new favorite way to determine if a woman is fashion daring is her ability to pair up neutrals.

(photo of giovanna batta found here)

there are a few of us

turban

…who still embrace the turban.

if you are one of us, feast on this inexpensive fortune here.

a shadowless horse

flapper

Beneath the bebop moon
I want to croon with you
Beneath the Mambo Sun
I got to be the one with you

My life’s a shadowless horse
If I can’t get across to you
In the alligator rain
My heart’s all pain for you

Girl you’re good
And I’ve got wild knees for you
On a mountain range
I’m Dr. Strange for you

Upon a savage lake
Make no mistake I love you
I got a powder-keg leg
And my wig’s all pooped for you

With my hat in my hand
I’m a hungry man for you
I got stars in my beard
And I feel real weird for you

Beneath the bebop moon
I’m howling like a loon for you
Beneath the mumbo sun
I’ve got to be the one for you

(t.rex mambo sun)