Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.
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| Like The Queen Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content. |
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0 Comments:Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] Tuesday, March 30, 2004 The shredded look, she said, seemed young and uncontrived.Don't you love fashion-speak? That particular statement is about the fringed/shredded hems, cuffs and button bands on the pastel tweed plaid jackets revived from the archives of Chanel this spring and being copied by all the other designers (I believe I even saw a Sag Harbor version). This is a look I find extremely pleasing to view, especially after the dark days of winter. It's colorful and it's feminine and it is enough of a suit (minus that stupid fringe) to allow you to look like you know what you are talking about. It is also a fashion that looks horrible on me. Not the garment structure - which can be pretty much any jacket shape - but the pastel shades. How fortunate for me I was never asked to be in a friend's spring or summer wedding - and in fact, the only wedding I was ever a part of, other than as the hired musician, was at Thanksgiving - and the bride chose a dark green for the attendants' dresses. In pastel, I look like a sugar-stuffed sausage. No. That's not quite true. I haven't any idea at all what I look like in pastel colors. I just know that I feel like a bulging ooze of flesh, fattly stuffed into a casing, squeezed, by the soft colors, into bulging misery. I will actually get a stomach ache in pastel that feels as if I have eaten too much sugar. I have always suspected I have a touch of Synaesthesia - that condition where one perceives things with unrelated, or at least, unexpected senses. One can taste "points" when one drinks acidic juice or hear shapes when music is played. For me, color makes my skin feel things. Especially if color touches my skin. And pastel colors, no matter how happy they make me to look at them, make me feel sick to wear them. Alas. This year I will be a fashion flop. You will not see me in pastel plaid. As I write this, I realize something about my praying place. The place is a stretch of the lane up to my house, with the woods at one end, and a spot in the middle of the field at the other. I do believe the place itself has a powerful pull on me, but when the sky is a particular blue, I also feel it touching my skin, pulling my arms up into the air. It is as if there was a magnetic force or a suction pulling on me. Yes, more a suction than magnetism. This doesn’t happen on cloudy days or even sunny days that don't have that particular blue sky. Hmm. Interesting how we respond to the world in our own unique ways. My play date with Jen was everything a gal could want. We had time to really talk, and to spin and touch our fibers and enjoy BD who, in turn, thoroughly enjoyed having women speak in soft feminine voices in his house. It was a gray cold day so we had a fire in the stove. About 3 o'clock I took Jen out to see Mr. & Mrs. Bald Eagle's house. I had forgotten exactly where it was so we parked the car at the mile point and walked across the field. We saw Mrs. B Eagle almost the instant we saw the nest. Her white head peered over the bundle of sticks. She gave a little call - not remembering if we were friend or foe. Mr. B. Eagle hurried back from out across the marshes, sailed past her, with just a brief glance down at his wife, and lit upon a tree at the edge of the field, from which he could monitor our behavior - and, I am sure, attack, should we prove a threat. We gazed up a moment longer at Mrs. E but it was obvious we were making her unhappy - she rose up, as if to take flight - so we turned and headed back to the car. As we trudged past Mr. E I was prompted to lift my arm in salute - which he accepted with the regal grace of an Emperor, almost nodding his head in acknowledgment. Then he rose, circled us completely in a gesture of unspeakable grace, and soared off to check out some other birds wheeling over his kingdom. The hair on my head lifted, even the fine hair on my back lifted - and I shivered all the way back to the car. What a signal honor, to be blessed by a bald eagle. By a King of the Skies. Sort of makes one feel - worthy. posted by Bess | 7:07 AM |
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