When I wake in the morning, the coffee is already made; a large antique pot with a long thin spout, and it's always black black and gritty. I pour caramel macchiato creamer in. I'm always hopeful that I'll wake up and feel good, but it depends on dreams and sanity. There's been a knot behind my shoulder blade for weeks, and feels like one of those green monsters. Mostly, I am an asshole, and mother, all fresh and smiles is non-deserving of it, so we make plans to distract ourselves from my assholeness. We plan to sell clothes. Use the money to buy more; a constant recycling. For the first time in my life I am dispersing my favorite fabrics back into the world, as opposed to the hoard-collecting and closet breaking under the weight kind of thing I had been before. Anecdote: Once, as I was telling my cousin about how distressing it was to not wear the sequins in my closet...and if only I had the occasion...she responded, "Why do you need an occasion?" This is simple; my cousin, 5 years younger and so wise is a beautiful person. Just recently we were in her extra-room-turned-into-a-closet, and I was rifling through her things excitedly, like, "You should do this with this, and cut the hem there, and turn that into a mini dress with 5 lbs of frill beneath." This was natural to me, but a language that went dead so long ago. My spout of suggestions left her with, "Man, where did my imagination go?" It was then that I realized that I felt good, and that it did go dead somewhere, the talking to a person about passion thing.
At the same time that I am inspired, I don't want excess. This week I sold things I was not done with. Perhaps I'll miss them one day, but for now, I feel good.
My mother & I thrift. It's not a great idea to go together, but we indulge. My friend & her fiancee have this pretty intense ever-evolving budget spreadsheet they're always working on, and their latest language revolves around how much she can spend on their honeymoon wardrobe, and how much he can spend online shopping. For some reason this is hilarious to me. I've never budgeted myself, but have always kept a good eye on my finances, and know how to save, and cycle through my shopping in a way that likely keeps me close to even. Ha, lies! Anyhow, with their budgeting & my not having an income, I was inspired to create a visual representation of my spending. Lies. It was just an excuse for an art project so I could stop crying. haha. See below:
Caramel Rabbit Fur Coat - I love fur coats, though it's rare I can find one that will extend my full sleeve length. This was such a beautiful color, and it has a threaded rope within the interior that cinches the waste for flared hip accentuation.
Liberte Egalite Beyonce - saw some hipsters wearing this around hip towns, but I like that someone recycled it/didn't find it hip anymore.
Sweater - handmade crocheted wool/acetate sweater.
Lana Tee - Major (late) obsession with Lana lately. Mostly because of a drive to Seattle with a good friend, and what it meant to listen to her in those moments. Also, because of her story. I'ma crop this shit.
Jeffrey Campbell Platforms - Found in a seattle thrift store on tourist weekend with Des&Alex.
Old Steve Madden Cage Heels - Beat up, tight & sexy.
Blue/White Striped Crocheted Cape - Not evident in image but this almost reaches the floor. I imagine butt-crease out shorts, a homemade painted 4th of July oversized shirt, and this naughty grandmother to hide beneath, or to snuggle up to some girlfriend with as we watch fireworks by the old refinery.
Hooker Heart Sleepies - Just great. Ass hearts.
White & Floral Churidars - I'ma turn churidars into harems. Hopefully this isn't disrespectful. What I love about these cotton pants is that the length of the legs is like 8 feet long and extremely tight for the last 2 ft. Note to self: Don't where these pants when drunk.
This is a week's worth of shopping. How often I go in a month depends on running, income, mood, and social rendezvous. Abbreviation: Thrifting makes me feel good sometimes. Not as much lately as was usual, but at least I learned the language of inspiration again.
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