Posts from — June 2010

“It is a small world. You do not have to live in it particularly long to learn that for yourself. There is a theory that, in the whole world, there are only five hundred real people (the cast, as it were; all the rest of the people in the world, the theory suggests, are extras) and what is more, they all know each other. And it’s true, or true as far as it goes. In reality the world is made of thousands upon thousands of groups of about five hundred people, all of whom will spend their lives bumping into each other, trying to avoid each other, and discovering each other in the same unlikely teashop in Vancouver. There is an unavoidability to this process. It’s not even coincidence. It’s just the way the world works.” –Neil Gaiman

Growing up I dreamt of visiting every single city in every country on every continent of the world. I wanted to meet everyone and know them intimately. I imagined the seven billion birthday cards I’d send to the far corners of the earth; a million secrets and inside jokes and memories; walking into a mall and knowing each passerby by name. Neil Gaiman’s assumption that I’d only ever know five hundred of these souls shocked me– the thought that I would spend a good part of my life trying to avoid some of them nearly broke my heart.

But “it’s just the way the world works.”

I’m not fond of that statement–though it is the way literature works. You have a select cast of characters who are “important,” a chosen few whose lives make the story possible accompanied by a menagerie of meaningless faces that blend into the background. I wonder sometimes in the stories of my friends lives how often I’m forgotten. Am I at least a single chapter or is my influence rendered through a mere sentence? Will the readers have any memory of my presence by the end?

x Johannah E.

C: ffffound, Neil Gaiman

Tweet This!

I didn’t have a whole lot of time to read on my trip to Italy, but I did scribble a bunch:

Walking “home” over the Fiume Arno river right before a storm is the most peaceful dreariness. Standing mid-bridge with sheets of wind & grey gloom- grey with old age- this place embraces it’s years, it’s decay & past inhabitants, it’s foundation. Suspended between waters, sandwiched between the river below & the storm above, I can see they welcome this rain- not so much like East Coast rain that drowns out our already blurred vision with cold- but rain that brings them more flowers- that they’ll put in their shop windows & braid in their bike baskets. The same flowers reflective of their swirling window ironwork, paintings, door engravings & kitchen curtain petals.

Straight out are miles of other bridges, repetitive curves like the arcs of the Duomo. These arcs quickly became our best friends- connecting us from the Brooklyn of Firenze to everything possible. We grew to love the daily crisscross, the one familiar landmark that meant “almost home”. The non-nomadic element of our explorations. One of these bridges, the golden bridge, shelters gold jewelers for miles. It’s similar to walking through a pirate’s Amber tunnel of treasure- from a distance, this gold and these drops must reflect the Italy-Sun like sequins all over Florence.

(fyi, this is George Clooney’s house)

Images: yayeveryday, fashionising, flickr, my lovely reliable digital cam.

Love always,

Jess.

Tweet This!

“It was one of those days when it’s a minute away from snowing and there’s this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it. And this bag was, like, dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. And that’s the day I knew there was this entire life behind things, and… this incredibly benevolent force, that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video’s a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember… and I need to remember… Sometimes there’s so much beauty in the world I feel like I can’t take it, like my heart’s going to cave in.” –American Beauty

Today: look for the beauty in something that isn’t beautiful.

-Johannah E.

Tweet This!

Ciao belllllas! Sorry for temporarily going MIA. I’ve been in Italy taking a Fabric Styling course- we’re here for inspiration, absorbing everything & anything that can be translated into textile prints, color stories, trend forecasting etc. We spent 2 weeks in Florence, 1 on Lake Como.  We’ve been spending our days visiting museums learning everything there is to know about Byzantine to post Renaissance art- all of this including fashion history as well. The Ferragamo museum in Florence was GORGEOUS (I got to touch Greta Garbo’s worn clothes, my life is complete). We visited the Picchi wool textile mill and Ratti silk manufacturer.  Another day was The Liseo Foundation, a group of adorable old women who create high-end specialized wovens- velvets & jacquards (these women are extremely skilled & patient, creating fabrics for the pope, queens, high-end designers, on machines that take months to just thread). And our teacher’s “surprise stop”, the MaxMara headquarters!- their vintage archive (Suzanne would’ve been in her glory), the showroom, original artwork/fabrics from collections dating back to the 50′s- it was absolutely incredible to be there.

My Wish List just got a whole lot longer: (sorry for small images)

Cashmere French shawl from the 20′s/30′s

All these Moroccan lamps I saw in a bar

My to-be chiffon/lace wedding dress<3 found in the MaxMara vintage archives

These jewelry boxes from the Stibbert museum

This 1727 harpsichord, supposedly it’s 1 of 3 left in the world

Murano glass chandeliers for every room of my house, I’m obsessed…

Lamps with velvet textiles by the Liseo Foundation

And since this is the literature society after all, we all need these Japanese fairytale books

As for the goodies that I did manage to bring home with me:

This little number (minus the boots)

Belt from Milan, made in Thailand, with Amethyst stones & bells from India.It’s gorgeous & makes me look like Esmeralda

I had to get at least 1 tourist tee

Italian leather bags for me & mom, mmmm

Silk from Como

& lots of presents for friends and family.

PS- make sure you check up on Red Fox’s posts too, she was my partner in crime on this trip.

Love always,

Jess

Tweet This!

Summer is the time when one sheds one’s tensions with one’s clothes, and the right kind of day is jeweled balm for the battered spirit.  A few of those days and you can become drunk with the belief that all’s right with the world. (Ada Louise Huxtable)

I apologize for my lackluster posts recently, I have a terrible case of senioritis (though I’m only a freshman).

My mind is such a jumbled mess of memories, anticipation, and insomnia I barely have room for well formulated, interesting posts. It seems I’m on the tipping point between having no time to do anything, and the time to do everything. When ever I try to write I’m overwhelmed by the lingering end of term research paper I have to finish and a mound of trig I never even began. I can’t wait to be done with school and have all summer to major in barefoot beach romping and tree climbing and photography expeditions in the forests near my home. I want my homework to be guitar playing, poetry writing, classic movie watching and I want the flexibility to just lay in the grass and watch the clouds if I want to.

I can already feel the sun seeping into my bones, falling asleep to the sound of crickets, waking up well past noon. The smell of old books and dusty, airconditioned libraries, freshly mown grass and lavender lemonade.

I obviously have plenty of time to ramble…

Tweet This!