J.B. Taylor

5th Helena Drive.

Like many starry-eyed little girls growing up in Hollywood, my first love was Marilyn.

I'm sure it would be hard for any aesthetically-minded human not to be moved by her innocence, genius, and dreamy aura. I've read many books about her life, each portraying a different mythology . . . but the fact that many of us have our own interpretation of her story, is further testament to her eternally captivating power.

This year marked the 50th anniversary of her death, and though it's blue to think about all the movie magic she had yet to conjure for us, I celebrate her spirit often. She had a wonderfully inquisitive mind, and fabulous taste . . . especially in clothing (simple Pucci pieces for day, Ceil Chapman gowns for evening), books (her Joyce, Hemingway and Whitman-laden library would've impressed any literary snob), and decor (she began collecting antiques in the 1950s, when it was still considered a bohemian hobby).

Her final home on Earth was a little Spanish bungalow in Brentwood, which she was happily  decorating up until the night of her tragically un-intentional OD. She had just returned from a trip to Mexico, where she ordered pieces of custom furniture that would soon be delivered to her beloved abode. While I'm sure most fans would imagine her home to be adorned with crystal chandeliers, white fur cushions, and gold leafed walls, it may surprise some to see that her nest was casual, warm, and completely unpretentious. She was setting up a cozy home, filled with hand-crafted Mexican art, weavings, Navajo pottery, and souvenirs from her travels.

Many of her beloved Mexican pieces were auctioned off years ago by Julien's in Los Angeles, and I've always treasured their catalog from the sale. It says more about this complex woman than any billowing white dress ever will. 1926–1962.

Sending you love and light, MM, wherever you are!

Select photos from top: Marilyn & mandolin by Milton Greene, her sun hat, photo of her festive dining room by Gene Anthony, Polaroid of her modern woven chairs (photog. unknown), the Iron boot was a gift from Clark Gable to MM during the filming of The Misfits in 1961, her portable record player.

Dimming all the Lights.

"One day in Berlin, Eno came running in and said, 'I have heard the sound of the future!' . . . he puts on I Feel Love, by Donna Summer. He said, 'This is it . . . look no further. This single is going to change the sound of club music for the next fifteen years.' Which was more or less, right."

                                                                     —David Bowie

Still trying to process the passing of Donna Summer, who provided the soundtrack to endless  childhood lip-synching routines, awkward Bar Mitzvah slow-dances, and teenage pre-rave warm-up parties (we always listened to Sunset People on the way to map points). It was to Last Dance that I got drunk for the first time at age 10, hiding under a table drinking champagne at my aunt's wedding (marking the end of my career as flower girl). In jazz class at age 13, we passionately rehearsed a Bad Girls routine, pretending we were hookers (Appropriate? No . . . Educational? Of course).

I first discovered the magical princess of the night when my dad brought home the die-cut gatefold of 1978's Live and More, resulting in hours of staring at Donna's rainbow sparkle gown on the back cover. She became an obsession, and for many years the poster from On the Radio, was pinned to my Marimekko castle wallpaper (see the shot below, and take note of the cartoon heels!)

Her Moroder collabs are some of the sexiest and most influential moments to ever occur in modern music. I'm regretting never having made an effort to hear her otherworldly voice live. Here's hoping she'll have a gig when we arrive at the never-ending disco in the sky.

Recommended viewings in honor of Donna . . . Thank God it's Friday (1978) and Foxes (1980). Recommended Summer reading  . . . writer Jon Savage and DJ Ewan Pearson on the catalytic power of I Feel Love.

And in other sad disco news . . . adieu to Robin Gibb. Looks like God really loves to Hustle.

Faithfully.

I remember once hearing a record shop owner being asked by a customer who Marianne Faithfull was. His reply was "just some Rolling Stones groupie", and I immediately wanted to punch him in the face. Never just Mick's muse (he chased her, btw), or a stunning '60s dollybird . . . she was, for a long time, the spirit of The Stones. If it weren't for her, they would never have worn brocade, bought castles to fill with Persian rugs, taken LSD, tried to emulate the god Pan, or read Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita . . . which inspired nearly all of Beggars Banquet. She was rock 'n roll's first decadent, bohemian royal queen. Not only that, but she continues to contribute her own wonderful art to the universe . . . wildly entertaining memoirs, acting roles, and deliciously relevant music (collaborating with the likes of Nick Cave, Damon Albarn and Jarvis Cocker, to name only a few).

During a shamanistic convergence in my early-20s (aka; a really crappy time), I spotted a copy of Faithfull's autobiography at a used bookstore in Hollywood, and once I began reading about her glamourous, tripped-out and troubled journey, my soul applauded. I'd encountered a kindred vagabond spirit, and she's been a major source of inspiration ever since. It's also my belief that you haven't truly lived until you've seen her preform The Ballad of Lucy Jordan live. Next time she's in town, make it a life priority.

In a lovely tribute to her highness of cool, the Tate Liverpool has given Faithfull access to their collection, and she, along with gallerist John Dunbar (her first husband, also known as the man who introduced John to Yoko), have curated an autobiographical show featuring pieces she feels represent seminal periods in her colorful life thus far. The show, entitled Innocence and Experience, includes pieces by: Richard Hamilton, Nan Goldin, Man Ray, Lucian Freud, Francis Bacon (a close friend of Faithfull's), Robert Mapplethorpe, Pauline Boty, Rene Magritte and Sir Peter Blake, among others. I'm hoping to catch the show before it closes on September 2nd.

More about Marianne:

– She has the distinction of being the first person to say the word Fu*k in a motion picture (1967's I'll Never Forget What's'isname)

– Jimi Hendrix's The Wind Cries Mary is about her.

– She divides her time between an apartment in Paris, and an Irish castle with a ballroom made entirely of seashells.

– She co-penned the lyrics to Sister Morphine, and Jagger wrote Wild Horses about her . . . probably his most beautiful love song, ever.

– She recorded reggae with Sly & Robbie and Serge Gainsbourg.

– Marianne's great-great uncle was Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, author of the fetishtic book, Venus in Furs (1869). The concept of "Masochism" was later named after him.

– Her best friend is Anita Pallenberg.

– She basically invented hardcore gangster rap.

– She turned down Bob Dylan.

*Faithfull collage by me, J.B.T. Please do not reproduce without permission. Merci.

La Motocyclette.

My rebel heart be still! Willow's Fall 2012 collection featured one dress in particular that is causing the juvenile delinquent in me to swoon . . . a sinister chic black motorcycle dress, with leather sleeves and detailing. It was immediately added to my birthday list, and reminds me of a modern take on the poured-on leather suits Marianne Faithfull wore in the 1968 film The Girl on a Motorcycle, which if you haven't yet seen . . . hop to it!

And regarding the above image on the left . . . have you ever seen a cooler getup in your entire life? Leave it to la Faithfull to pair a leather jumpsuit, with a fox chubby, tights and ballet slippers, resulting in the universes hottest ensemb'. Vroom, vroom!

Ghost Flower.

I've been reading Portrait of an Artist, Laurie Lisle's inspiring biography of Georgia O'Keeffe, who was born on this day in 1887.

So, wherever you are Georgia, up in that pink and turquoise Southwestern sky, I'd like to thank you for all the organic artistry you've inspired us with, and wish you a peaceful birthday. Here's hoping that you and Stieglitz are together, setting up the ultimate art gallery in the clouds.

Above: O'Keeffe inside her beloved Ghost Ranch home in Abiquiu, New Mexico, as photographed by Karsh, 1957.

Farewell, Mon Ami.

I'm very blue, to bid adieu, to my friend, the revolutionary costume designer, Theadora Van Runkle. She has been an inspiring force to lovers of vintage design for decades, whether they know it or not. With her film debut, Bonnie and Clyde (1967), she single-handedly brought a level of cool to films that hadn't been seen before, and lived her life with a glittering élan.

Above: Portrait outtake from my book, Vintage LA, as photographed by Jeaneen Lund.

Theadora started her career as a young advertising illustrator for May Co., and went on to become one of Hollywood's most talented costumers, garnering three Oscar noms (Bonnie and Clyde, The Godfather Part II, Peggy Sue Got Married), as well as being awarded with an Emmy, and a Costume Designers Guild Lifetime Achievement Award.

I first met Theadora in 2003, at a screening of I Love you Alice B. Toklas (a film she lovingly costumed) at the American Cinematheque in Hollywood, and after much gushing about Leigh Taylor-Young’s lace mini-dresses in the film, we bonded over a mutual adoration for embroidered piano shawls, and my deep love for her was born. Five years later, I spent the day sipping tea in her dreamy, ivy-covered Laurel Canyon cottage, as I interviewed her for my book Vintage LA (HarperCollins). After our chat-sesh, we had several long talks, where she told me delicious stories about Hollywood’s golden era . . . about her regular Friday night movie parties with Edith Head in the ‘60s, Cary Grant’s secret love affairs (I’m sworn to secrecy), and tips on how to be irresistible to men (most of which are too risque to publish!).

She was magical, talented, ever-inspired, and positively glowing from within. With her platinum bob, smiling red lips, and dramatic flirtatiousness, she still attracted sexy young suitors. One beau of which (a producer in his 20s) was so obsessed after cocktails with Thea, he sent her a strand of pearls.

Observing Theadora’s beautiful daily routine: watching the way she adjusted the antique textiles strewn about her boudoir, obsessing over finding the perfect vintage brooch to wear on her velvet kimono, and delicately painting portraits of her beloved cat, Hazel, showed me that you can live a creatively free and decadently bohemian life, even in your eighth decade. I'd been telling my husband about her for years, and dreamt of having them meet next time we were in L.A., so he could experience her illuminating energy. I'm incredibly sad that I'll never get the chance to visit with her one last time.

You can read all about her amazing career here, but you can also read the interview I did with her for Vintage LA below. There were so many hours of wonderful material, it should have been a book in itself . . .

Above: My photo of lovely Theadora in her vintage finery, taken the night we met in 2003 at the American Cinematheque (L.A.), for a screening of I Love you, Alice B. Toklas (1968).

Adieu, Loulou.

How very sorry I was to hear that Yves Saint Laurent's iconic muse, Loulou de la Falaise, passed on  this week, to the glittering Le Sept-style nightclub in the sky.

Along with her duty of inspiring YSL on a daily basis (she was the catalyst behind Le Tuxedo) and designing bijoux for his collections,  she was also a favorite model of Richard Avedon and David Bailey's throughout the 1970s, and created accessories for Oscar de la Renta, as well as her own signature line of ethnic beaded pieces.

It was wonderful to know that such a chic bohemian woman was living on this Earth, inspiring others with her creativity and Parisian beauty. She will be greatly missed by the thousands of fashionettes who admired her, including moi. 

From top: Shot by Avedon for the Sept. issue of Vogue c.1970, in signature ethnic beads and turban (featured on WWD), and again by Avedon for Sept. 1970 American Vogue.

G-L-O-R-I-A.

This one goes out to all the ladies in the house.

If you want to watch a brilliantly crafted film that makes you feel crazy-empowered deep down into your gritty New-York-City soul . . . then Gloria is your dame.

Above: Rowlands as Gloria, the ultimate Manhattan heroine, popping caps in her lavender satin suit, and running away from the bad guys with her antique tapestry satchel. Below: Gloria's amazing water-colored opening-credits, designed by Sam Shaw.

Cinematic dream-doll, Gena Rowlands, plays Gloria, a tough-as-nails ex-Mafia mistress, thrown into the initially un-wanted role of bodyguard to a six-year old Puerto Rican boy with hit-men on his tail (p.s., Little "Phil" is one of the slickest, grooviest kids ever to grace celluloid). So, when Gloria's fierce maternal love-vibes kick-in, you're in for one of the coolest, most bad-ass female actions films ever, starring a Film Noir-esque lioness, protecting her velvet bell-bottomed baby cub.

Above: Two epic things . . . first, Rowland's character wearing men's pajamas and a trench-coat to do errands around Harlem (why did I never try that?), and second, Gloria's gigantic walk-in closet-room, as big as a small dry-cleaners, and filled with hundreds of disco dresses in garment bags (talk about New York City dreams!).

Directed in 1980, by her husband, John Cassavetes, Rowlands is totally luminous . . . all Lauren Bacall curls and menthol smoke, suited in a chic wardrobe courtesy of Emmanuel Ungaro. It's a film guaranteed to make you wish Manhattan was still accessorized in graffiti, and that your nicest Carlos Falchi purse contained a loaded pistol.

Above: How much do you love her crimson kimono/leather shoulder bag combo? Also, the round honeymoon-style bed and Oriental rug tapestry = bitchin. Below: Don't mess with a woman (in a silk wrap-dress) scorned.

Pretty in Paul.

If Pretty in Pink's Andie Walsh were shopping for the perfect new wardrobe, she'd surely swoon over Paul Smith's Spring/Summer '11 collection, with its mis-matched pastel prints, chintzy rose-patterned pencil skirts, ankle booties, Wayfarers, fedoras and men's blazers. After all, I'm sure by now, she and Ducky (let's go with the original Hughes-preferred ending) are living happily in their West Village townhouse . . . he's a stay-at-home dad watching over their pouty-lipped babies, until night, when he sings in a No-Wave cover band, and she brings in billions with her Sonia Delaunay-inspired line of triangular gowns, so she can totally afford to skip the vintage for a spell . . .

Now back to hunting down a vintage peach, chrysanthemum-patterned kimono, like the one worn by Molly in the scene below. I've been coveting this robe ever since first viewing the film in 1986, at a $1 theatre in Boulder, Colorado, while visiting my grannie . . . and from then on, life was all about; lace collars, beaded cardis, dusty-rose Karmann Ghias, tortured boys, and The Psychedelic Furs. Sigh . . .

Damaged Goods.

Ever since recently viewing the heart-wrenching film Damage (directed in 1992 by Louis Malle), I've been absolutely haunted by Juliette Binoche's exquisitely chic wardrobe in the film, as chosen by Milena Canonero, who, to me, is forever in the echelon of legendary costumers, along with Adrian, Thea Van Runkle (whom I interviewed in Vintage LA), and Orry-Kelly.

Binoche's antique-appraising character dresses as only a woman who grew up in Paris could . . . with compete restain from trend or frivolity, swathed in classic black with the perfect accessories, a sleek androgynous haircut, and exquisite stockings. Her timeless look has sent me on the hunt for a cream silk shirt, dark pinstriped blazer, silver link necklace, matching silver cuffs, and noir trenchcoat . . .

Busy, Miss Lizzie.

Feeling so proud of my stylish little sis, Lizzie, today, after reading through her colorful profile on StyleLikeU. Every time I visit her in L.A., she lets me take over her jewel-box of a boudoir, which for a vintage collector like me, is like entering Aladdin's cave. Her wardrobe, as well as her collection of  whimsical trinkets, is unlike any other I've seen . . . it's really like walking into the treasure chest diorama on Disneyland's Pirates ride, and also brings back fond memories, as I've handed-down some fun frocks throughout the years (as all good, vintage hoarding big sissies should).

Above: The night table in Lizzie's Beverly Hills boudoir accompanied by a fabulous '60s stained-glass lamp once belonging to Chris Robinson and Lala Zappa, and (R) Lizzie wearing a vintage dress by Young Edwardian, the fashion line our father helped to create in the 1960s, and our mom, Moira (pictured below), placed in Contempo boutiques, where she was the head buyer (which is how our parents met)!

Above: Lizzie wearing a white lace maxi gown of her own creation while hanging with Moira, and (R) Lizzie wearing her favorite vintage Sex Pistols tee, Terry  de Havilland platforms, and zoot suit pants.

Lizzie is a designer who creates gorgeous custom party dresses, all sewn of rare vintage fabrics (two of which are featured in the interview video accompanying the story), each infused with her signature delicate dollybird style. She also works with Anthropologie, inspiring their visual merchandising team daily with her penchant for sequins and bows, as well as running a fabulous online vintage boutique called Dream Baby Dream, with fellow StyleLikeU alumnus and bestie, Kimme Aaberg.

My favorite quote from the interview . . .

“I recently rediscovered my journal from the age of eight. I wrote the following entry (spelling included): 'Two of my favorite things are red roses and blue silk dreses with lase at the bottem. i just love egrolls, flowers, kittens, pink wigs and satten dreses. it was hard to do it, but i finally put all my sunglasses in the right order. i just love to do art, go shopping on mellrose avenue. the best thing about school is art because i love art so, so, so much! p.s. i love carnifals.' Honestly, not much has changed since then.”

The Sandpiper (1965).

I've wanted to write about The Sandpiper for a while now, being that it is one of my favorite films, takes place in the boho California coastal town of Big Sur, features my dream house, as well as scenes shot in one of my favorite restaurants (Nepenthe), was directed by the great Vincente Minnelli, and stars one of my most favorite actresses and human beings of all eternity . . . Elizabeth Taylor, who so sadly passed on today, to the big white diamond in the sky. All of us Liz loving vintagers thank the Heavens above that cinema exists, so we can hear your lovely voice and watch your magic face, forever & ever . . .

The Sandpiper is a beautifully told story about a liberated artist and single mother who believes she can teach her son more about life herself, than he would be learning at the local school, which is overseen by a conservative priest, played passionately by her real-life love (and two-time husband), Richard Burton. After the boy gets into a bit of trouble with the law, he is forced into the school, and after going head-to-head with the priest regarding his judgements of her freewheelin' lifestyle, they, of course, begin a love affair that puts all his beliefs into question. C'est dramatique!

Oh, Liz . . . I hope the jewels that have been waiting in the clouds above, are cosmically dazzling, like you. And that the loves of your passionate and Technicolor life, Richard and Mike, await you with warm embraces and dream screen kisses. 

I already miss knowing you're out there . . . in your red lipstick, cowgirl boots, and glittery caftans. I'm so sad i'll never get to gaze into those violet eyes, and say "merci beaucoup".

When David met Celia.

When thinking about artists and their muses, one inspiring pairing immediately comes to mind . . . that of David Hockney and his best friend, textile designer Celia Birtwell (who was also muse and wife to Ossie Clark). This triumvirate of characters has been tantamount to my aesthetic development, as we're talking about one of my all-time favorite painters on Earth, one of my absolute personal-style ideals, and a designer whose frocks I could wear solely until my very last breath. Being that Celia has the dreamy eyes and fair ringlets of a Botticelli goddess, Hockney was naturally drawn to her, stating that . . .

"Celia has a beautiful face, a very rare face with lots of things in it which appeal to me. It shows aspects of her, like her intuitive knowledge and her kindness, which I think is the greatest virtue. To me she's such a special person … Portraits aren't just made up of drawing, they are made up of other insights as well. Celia is one of the few girls I know really well. I've drawn her so many times and knowing her makes it always slightly different. I don't bother getting the likeness in her face because I know it so well. She has many faces and I think if you looked through all the drawings I've done of her, you'd see that they don't look alike."

Here are some of my favorites from Hockney's endless archive of Celia studies, which he first began in 1968 and continues adding to:

Bon Anniversaire!

Happy birthday to my beautiful, kind, and inspiring mother, who raised me to be the vintager that I am today. I've been planning an epic post about her amazing personal style and colorful biography for eons, but for now, here are some favorite shots of the très chic Madame Moira, throughout the years;

How totally Debbie Harry is she in the above photo, c.early-1980s? The braid!

Love to you Mom, here's to fun cocktail-filled evening!

~ Me, Mr. Taylor (& Ali Baba too!)

Steepletop.

After reading Nancy Milford's extraordinarily fascinating tome, Savage Beauty, about the great American poet, Edna St. Vincent Millay, i've become deeply transfixed with the story of this brilliant bohemian, who lived her life with dramatic élan. After winning the first Pulitzer Prize awarded to a woman for poetry, she became the most famous person in America, and her readings in the 1920s were more like rock shows . . . with screams for encores, and young fans swarming around just to breathe-in her velvet-clad ethereal air.

Above: E.St.V.M as a little witch, c.1800s (posted just in time for Hallow's Eve!)

Most of her life was spent high atop a hill in Austerlitz, NY, at Steepletop . . . the beloved farm estate (named after a wildflower), where she resided with her husband, Eugen Boissevain, until her passing. It is a National Historic Landmark that has been turned into a museum, along with an old barn that is now the Millay Colony for the Arts, as per the wishes of Vincent (as she preferred to be called) and her sister, Norma Millay Ellis, who oversaw the estate until 1986.

Norma made sure that every detail in the home was exactly as Vincent left it, much to the joy of devotees, like me. Mr. Taylor and I took our dear friends Doris and Joe to tour the house and its verdant grounds on October 17th, the day before the anniversary of her passing. It was terribly moving to stand in her boudoir, looking at her little glass pill bottles and travel souvenirs, and even more wondrous was her private library, filled with thousands of first editions, each one well-loved, and in the middle of the room, a blanketed chaise, and a funny little hand-painted "silent" sign hanging from the ceiling. We all sighed when it was time to exit, as none of us ever wanted to leave.

Yet the most intense experience for me, was Vincent's stunning Poet's Trail, where she and Eugen frequently rambled, and where both their spirits were eventually laid to rest, along with her beloved mother and muse, Cora Millay. On the chilly Fall day when we visited, travelling down her well-worn path, covered with Technicolor leaves, acorns, and bright green moss, I really felt as if I were walking in a dream. And when we arrived at Vincent and Eugen's memorial, the tears began to roll. It would be impossible for any visitor not to feel the poignancy of this artist's life.

Steepletop is closed for the season, but check their site for upcoming events, as it is truly an unforgettable place. And for more photos from our magical day, visit the full gallery here.

All photos (except Vincent the witch): © Nic & J.B. Taylor

Lizzie Loves Bette.

Now presenting . . . the very first entry by The Vintager's new official co-author, Lizzie! She's not only my lil' sis, but a secondhand sweetheart, a frock designer, fashion photographer, and total vintage guru. Here, she muses about a new found love for the Divine Miss. M., in her first of many dazzling entries to come . . .

Dearest Divine Miss M.,   

It has finally happened. You made me love you. I didn’t wanna do it, but you made me love you.  I guess I’m just another fan of yours and I thought I’d write and tell you so.

In an attempt to better understand your role in my heart as a Divine Miss. Muse, I have spent many a night drinking lattes and studying your movies. Thanks to Netflix, my T.V. set has been transformed into a Divine Miss. Masterpiece Theater, with frequent screenings of Down and Out in Beverly Hills, The Rose, Beaches, and your biography. I learned some enchanting facts… You were born a Honolulu honey, named after Bette Davis. Your career took off in the 1970s, whilst performing in a gay bathhouse with Barry Manilow tickling the ivories along to your wildly sparkling tunes. Your nickname during this time was "Bathhouse Betty". You were the first woman in history to sell out Carnegie Hall before an album had actually been released. All of this dazzling information has been deeply satisfying, though I still have a few questions going round & round in the carousel of my mind. When you find a free moment, i'd be delighted if you'd answer the following… 

1) Where are your show-stopping ensembles and furnishings from the 1970s? Are they in storage, or maybe at your daughter’s house? Have they been so kindly auctioned to benefit a worthy cause? Perhaps you'd be interested in donating a few fancy frills to my closet? Believe me, it’s a good cause. I particularly like what I see in these photos…

 

 

2) Did you really date Jerry Nolan of the New York Dolls? Tell me more! Was he always wearing shades? Did your heart take a leap and skip a beat? Was he tall? Did you have to look up? Did he wear big bulky sweaters to match his eyes? I hear he was good/bad, but not evil. Google couldn’t offer assistance in locating a photo of you & Jerry, but it did offer these gems…

3) I just found this incredible satin tour jacket on eBay… Do you happen to have an extra one lying around in your closet with “Bette” embroidered on the front? Just wondering.

I hope this wasn’t too much trouble. If so, it’s all your fault. You made me love you. You are a national treasure and a true inspiration. In conclusion, I love this quote of yours… “Cherish forever what makes you unique, 'cuz you're really a yawn if it goes.”

Yours truly,

~ Lizzie B.

Photos: corbis, getty, Kenn Duncan, Rolling Stone

It girl.

I've been "tagged" by The Catalyst, so now, i'm officially it!

The rules are:

1. Respond and rework. Answer the questions on your blog, replace one question you dislike with a question of your own invention; add a question of your own.
2. Tag eight other un-tagged people.

What is your current obsession? Paper maché, cooking organic food from local farm-stands, hunting for vintage crafting and cookbooks, and growin' herbs in our little greenhouse:

What do you see outside your window? A forest of trees, yellow daffodils, a chipmunk hanging out on a rock, the Hudson River, and sailboats floating by (for reals). See photo below of the view from where I work (though it was taken in the Fall):

If you could have any super power what would it be? Time travel.

What is your favorite color? Coral, ever since Bob Mackie told me it was "my color" (and who's to argue with the God of glitz himself?)

Who was the last person you hugged? Nic and Ali Baba (group hug).

Which animal would you be? A sweet fancy rich lady's spoiled tabby cat.

What’s for dinner? Homemade gluten-free pizza, covered in tomato sauce, veggies, basil, grated parmesean, and grilled chicken from a local free-range farm.

What was the last thing you bought? A Holly Hobbie-esque patchwork dress on eBay.

What are you listening to right now? Kate Bush's The Kick Inside.

What are your current favorite films? Harold & Maude, Paper Moon, Slaves of New York, The Long Goodbye, Wonderwall, Qui est-vous Polly Maggoo?, Pretty in Pink, My Man Godfrey, Sullivan's Travels, Blade Runner, The Misfits, Bell Book & Candle, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Annie Hall, Working Girl, Xanadu, Cabaret, Phantom of the Paradise . . .

What’s on your beside table? I'm actually on the hunt for the perfect vintage nightstand, but am using 2 antique suitcases for now. On them I keep; Weleda hand creme, Burt's Bee's lip balm, Barry Paris' book about Garbo, a highlighter for interesting quotes, faux bois mug (bought at the Maryland Renaissance Fair), chamomile tea, and the Lonely Planet's new East Coast Trips book.

Say something to the person/s who tagged you: Miss. Jenny, I adore your blog, and feel you are a fancy lady after my own heart. I'd love to meet you in purrson one day, preferably at an old ice cream parlour, a cowboy ghost town, or Disneyland. I'd also love for you to come visit me in beautiful Upstate, NY, so we can go on a vintaging adventure together. Vive le cats (and Pugs)!

If you could have a house totally paid for, and fully furnished, anywhere in the world, where would it be? An old Spanish estate in Los Angeles, so my family could live in it together, and start an art commune. The living room would look like something like this:

What is your favorite children's book? From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler by E.L. Konigsburg, and Goodbye Moon by Margaret Wise Brown.

A book you're currently reading? Garbo by Barry Paris (it's wonderful).

What would you like to have in your hands right now? Biting a bit off Jenny's answer but, moolah would be nice, as well as tickets to see Marianne Faithfull, and an arepa from Caracas in the E. Village.

What is your favorite tea flavor? Instant Masala Chai Spiced Tea from Kalustyan's indian market in Murray Hill (my old 'hood).

What is your favorite article of clothing? It's a tie between my Russian-style Ossie Clark/Celia Birtwell blouse covered in multi-colored crescent moons, or the white dollybird Erin Fetherston dress I wore on my wedding day (wish I could've found a less "tipsy" photo of the blouse, since as you can see, I'd mistaken "I love you" for the sign of the devil . . . oy veh):

 

If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go? Lana'i, Hawaii (i'm so in need of a major vacay, i'm considering listening to Jimmy Buffett , or the Beach Boys' Kokomo on repeat, and using a margarita machine).

What did you want to become as a child? At first, Vanna White, Since I knew she made lots of money to buy gowns, and barely had to do anything, but then I decided I wanted to open my own mall, called "Jenny's Galleria". I spent hours making sketches of New Wave neon store fronts, and had even planned to wear a gold lamé Contempo dress to the gala opening, which was to take place in 1985, and to which i'd arrive in a red Mercedes convertible with the license plate "PRTYANML" (even though the letters wouldn't really fit).

What posters/pictures do you have on your bedroom wall? Petite silhouettes from the 1800s of aristocratic gentlemen, and surreal old shabby floral still life paintings from the '30s and '40s, found on various cross-country trips, and a figural Greta Garbo clothing hanger from the 1960s.

What is your plan for tomorrow? Get dressed up fancy, take the Hudson line down to Manhattan, attend a cocktail party in honor of Russell Wright, then hear a talk given by Jack Lenor Larsen about Organic Modernism @ the School of Interior Design, grab sushi near Grand Central with my Mr. and my beloved friend C.C., then back home on the train with all the drunkos.

Post a favorite childhood photo:

Tag, you're it!
~ Miss. Lizzie (on facebook)
~ People for the Ethical Treatment of Type
~ Moon Valley
~ L.A. In Bloom
~ Fawn Gehweiler
~ Lord Whimsy
~ Mr. Peacock
~ La Vie En Rose

Vintage Muse: Yma Sumac (1922-2008). Oh, and please VOTE!

The legendary Yma Sumac passed away yesterday, and i've got the blues about it.

Known as the "Peruvian Songbird", Yma's voice was truly otherworldly, stemming from her four-and-a-half octave range, and the ability to sing as different characters within a single song. She was a sensation in the 1950s, due to her exotic looks and regal personae, which may have been entirely of her creation, as she claimed that the Peruvian government officially certified her as an Inca Princess (the direct descendant of ancient Inca kings), and a "Golden Virgin Goddess". It has been rumored though, that she was actually a housewife named Amy Camus, but as the song in the musical Gypsy goes, "ya gotta have a gimmick", so boring Amy became royal Yma, depending on which tale you believe.

She started her career as a performer in both chic NYC night-clubs, and the Catskill's "Borscht Belt", and eventually became so popular that she landed a role opposite Charlton Heston in the 1954 Technicolor film Secret of the Incas. At the height of her popularity, she played sell-out shows all around the world, including The Hollywood Bowl and Carnegie Hall. She has recorded 5 awe-inducing albums, my favorite being her 1950 debut, Voice of the Xtabay, but i've been trying to find her lost '70s psychedelia LP, Miracles, for eons, so when I finally find it, my fave may change.


I was lucky to see her perform in the mid-'90s, during the Lounge/Exotica music revival (aka: the Swingers era), at L.A.'s House of Blues, and it is a show i'll never forget . . . she glided onto the  stage in a Grecian gown of flowing green chiffon, covered in sparkling brooches, and belted out Taita Inty (which really lets her show off that astonishing set of pipes), and whenever people would speak too loudly at the bar in the back of the venue, she would stop the song, strike a diva pose (much in the same vein as Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard), and hush everyone in the concert hall with a loud "sshhhhhtttttt!" into the mic. When the entire place was silent, she would resume. Her voice made me cry at several points, it was so crystal clear and flawless in person, sounding even better than her records at times, and to think she was in her late 70's!

What also made it quite memorable, was the fact that her sleeveless Grecian dress kept slipping off her shoulders (and she wasn't wearing a brassiere!), so when it would fall, she would continue to sing with her big tatas on display, until her assistant would run onstage from the sidelines to pull it back up. She had to run back and forth across the stage at least 4 times, and Yma was so lost in the realm of the Sun Gods, I don't think she even noticed. There will never be another like her.

Photos: Corbis, AP, yma-sumac.com,

And please make sure to VOTE today, especially if you want me to think you're awesome : )

And since this is really a blog about vintage, with the hope of showing you gorgeous things that will bring you inspiration, I don't want to stand on any political soap boxes, but, in regards to the whole McCain/Palin thang, this quote by Fran Lebowitz (the brilliant writer and wit) perfectly sums up how I feel:

“Being the mayor of 9,000 people qualifies a person to be vice president of the United States? Are you kidding me? 9,000 people live on my block. In New York, if you’re waiting for an elevator and there’s only 9,000 people in it, you say, ‘It’s not too bad, I can get in.’ I cannot express strongly enough my contempt for this.”

Vintage Muse: Brigitte Bardot (and More)!

Monday's Muse is the legendary Brigitte Bardot, not only because she is the eternal Parisian bombshell, but because she has always been an activist, for both women's rights, and the humane treatment of helpless creatures around the world (she's been fighting against the Canadian seal hunts since 1977)! When retiring from acting in the 1970s, she famously said "I gave my beauty and my youth to men. I am going to give my wisdom and experience to animals", and I love her for it.



Aside from becoming an icon in Roger Vadim's 1957 film, ...and God Created Woman, she was also a muse To French superstar, Serge Gainsbourg, with whom she was both romantically and musically linked in the mid-1960s.

 

If you are new to worshiping at the curves of B.B., then make sure to rent Jean-Luc Godard's 1963 French New Wave classic, Le Mépris (known in the states as Contempt), give her groovin' "best of" CD a spin, and buy this fabulous French book, which features hundreds of rare Bardot photos.

To add to her outspoken-awesomeness, she had this to say about our upcoming election, and you can read about more of her worthy crusades on the Brigitte Bardot Foundation website.


*And for collectors of vintage and beautiful jewels, please make sure to visit my etsy site, which I've just updated with cute new brooches.

Photos: Corbis

Vintage Muse: Carly Simon

It's dank and rainy here in NYC, and i've been in a deep '70s songwriter mood, so Carly Simon has been in heavy rotation on my turntable all the live-long gray and cloudy day.

Growing up in L.A.. my dad frequently tortured my pre-teen soul with embarrassment by blasting Carly from his convertible (mostly the Let the River Run cassette single, played over & over). At the time, I really hated Carly Simon . . . finding her songs to be disjointed, over-dramatic, and super-white (I was most-likely really into Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam at the time). So it's as much a surprise to me that now in my 30s (at about the same age my pop was when he was rockin' out to the Working Girl soundtrack, i've become a huge fan.

The apex of my Carly-love realization, was while on a gorgeous drive to Nantucket last year, while blasting Lindstrom's Late Night Tales compilation, and from the moment Carly's Why began, with its fabulous '80s bassy beat and the production mastery of Nile Rodgers (of Chic),  I knew that the time had come for me to succumb to the Simon. 

 

 

 

Row by row: Cover of her 1971 LP Anticipation, cover of No Secrets (1972), cover of Playing Possum (1975), Carly shot for Vogue in 1971 wearing a Narcissa dress (photographed by Jack Robinson), 2 more Vogue shots from 1971, cover of Come Upstairs (1980), with then-husband James Taylor at the Waldorf Astoria in 1973, backstage at Madison Square Garden in 1980 (photo: Lynn Goldsmith), with then-beau Cat Stevens in 1970 (during the recording of Anticipation, which was written by Carly as she waited for Stevens to arrive for their first date), Carly in 1973, gorgeous and preggers on the cover of her 1974 LP Hotcakes, disco Carly, sheet music for I Haven't Got Time for the Pain (1974), Carly today (from her blog), with J.T., cover of her 1971 debut LP (a favorite of mine), and on a Japanese single.

Here are links to Carly's personal blog, and her boutique, Midnight Farm, in Martha's Vineyard (I totally want to visit)! I'm off to to listen to more awesome C.S. LP's, while dreaming up designs for my upcoming line of '70s-art-teacher-inspired artisan jewelry.

Photos: Corbis, I am the Child of the Moon, Bob Gruen, style.com, carlysimontouchedbythesun blog

Vintage Muse: Nina Hagen

I've been listening to lots of Nina Hagen lately, which is most-likely a true sign of insanity (in a good way). For those who haven't yet had their minds-blown by her multi-octave voice, Technicolor fashion sense, and uniquely theatrical stage presence, feast your avant-garde-starved eyes upon this video for her song African Reggae...my all-time fave Nina tune.

(L to R) Nina from her 1985 Japanese tour book, Nina in 1998, and as envisioned by Pierre et Gilles in 1995.

Her music is a cosmic blend of dub, punk, funk, opera, psychedelia, and New Wave surrealism (with a little yodelling thrown in for good measure). she sings in both German and English, and has been consistently writing groundbreaking tunes since forming her first band, Automobil, in 1974. Nina has recorded over 20 albums, but my favorite is NunSexMonkRock, which I can only describe as "hallucinogenic, inter-planetary disco". I've always had a hunch that the Red Hot Chili Peppers' payed homage to this brilliant album with the title of their 1991 LP, Blood Sugar Sex Magik, which would make sense, being that Nina and Anthony Kiedis were an item from 1984-1985.

 
Some of my favorite Nina Hagen LP's above (L to R): NunSexMonkRock (1982), African Reggae EP (1978, In Ekstasy (1985), Nina Hagen Band (1979), New York New York Single (1983)

(Above,, by row) The self-described "Queen of Punk" in 1980, baby-faced Hagen in 1978, pre-Madonna in the '80s with a green bow, Lene fellow New Wave vocalist Lene Lovich, from her 1985 Japanese tour book, still from the 1999 film Punk + Glory, Nina from her Zarah single, a severe look for her 1985 Japanese tour, and a gamine Nina in the mid-'70s

Unlike other performers who hit it big internationally in the '80s, and haven't progressed as artists since, she is constantly creating new, mind-expanding material, inspired by her zen spiritual philosophies, peaceful political stances, and animal rights activism. Not to mention, her shows are still just as crazy as they ever were, and she's still stunning, with bone structure from a galaxy far, far away.

(Above, L to R) Nina rocking colored vinyl as a hat, Nina at an airport in 1984 with her daughter Cosma Shiva (I wonder if they'd let a metallic tinsel wig through security today), and Nina in fabulously frou-frou '80s glam. (Below) when I first saw this collage as a little girl, from the inner sleeve of her Ekstasy LP, I became truly creatively inspired, and began making collages of my own. Thank you Nina! XO's & Manic Panic "Pink Flamingo" hair dye kisses!

Most photos: Barry Lancaster, and here.

I Yi Yi Yi Yi, I Like you Very Much.

If you want proof that the 1940s were actually more colorful, psychedelic, and wild than today, all you have to do is watch Carmen Miranda dance.

Like a painter, or a musician, I can't get through the day without having a muse to feel creatively inspired by, and for the past week Carmen has invaded my mind, covered it in baubles, and topped it off with bunches of plastic fruit. My adoration of the Brazilian Bombshell began as a little girl, when my mom bought me a book of Carmen paper dolls (see below), and once I found out this vibrant cartoon of a lady had actually been a real, living person . . . fuhgettaboutit! It was true Latin love.

 

Shortly thereafter, I rented one of her films (I believe it was Down Argentine Way, with Betty Grable), and once I saw her dazzling half-moony-eyed smile, and heard her magical Portugese purring, I became obsessed, and began piling on my mom's costume jewels for school (I was even permanently benched from my after-school tee-ball team for "over-accessorizing my uniform").

Carmen has always been a powerful style icon for me, and in the mid-'90s I threw a Surrealism themed party for a friends birthday, and dressed as "Carmen Miranda on LSD" (pics below! Check out my doll-parts-bunny-ears headdress! The dude on the right is my friend Scott Free, who is now a fashion stylist, go figure). Also back in the Swingers era, I loved to dress in Technicolor pin-up girl homage to Carmen and Betty Grable's '40s films, like in the photo on the right, which was taken at a luau for my 22nd birthday:
 
But i'm sure you'll be happy to know that even now, I still enjoy piling crazy looking things on my head, in homage to C.M. (pic of me below, on Venice Beach, circa 2006):

Here are some of my favorite shots of the "Lady in the Tutti Frutti Hat" herself (click to enlarge):


   
  

At the age of 46, Carmen tragically suffered a heart attack while performing live on the Jimmy Durante show in  1955, and true to form, she kept on dancing. She sadly passed away to Havana-Heaven the following morning. Her heart was weak due to frequent Amphetamine usage, and it has been rumored that to keep her otherworldly energy-up during filming, she used cocaine, which she kept in secret compartments of her platform shoes. If you want to know more about the vibrant, fascinating and groundbreaking life of Ms. Miranda, I highly recommend renting the fabulous documentary, Bananas is my Business. 

Here are some items you will need to achieve the look of Carmen couture:

   

 

* On another note, a big vintage kiss to Linlee for featuring me in her Los Angeles Street Style story for Lucky!

In the photo, I'm standing outside one of my favorite Vintage LA shopping haunts, Golyester . . . never a place to browse if you're broke. There are the most wonderful things everywhere you look . . . from intricately beaded '20s cloches and cute figural animal basket purses, to Rita Hayworth-style gold bathing suits and mystical giant Siamese cuff bracelets!

Photos: Corbis, The Carmen Miranda Museum, carmenmiranda.com, ebay, and my personal ephemera collection.