It Came From the 90s...

Note: I must have written this about a year ago (or more) and saved the draft- so here it is from the depths beneath my rock!  I probably intended to add to it, but here's what I left.

(insert suspenseful music here)  I'm still a little dumbfounded by the 90s-inspired fashion trends.  A while back, at one of the stores around the corner from my house, the shop girl was wearing combat boots with over-the-knee socks, cutoffs, a Guns 'N' Roses shirt, and a flannel.  I informed her that she was wearing exactly what I wore at the approximate age of 14, and admitted it made me feel old, but that it was cute.  Other twenty-somethings and teens are latching onto more regrettable fashion throwbacks.  It's weirding me out, being that I was there, and there's a lot of 90s fashion and music I don't care to relive.

On that note, here are some of my favorite songs plucked from otherwise forgettable 90s radio (don't get me started on underground stuff!).

My brother and I rocked out to The Butthole Surfers.  Take note of Flea in the video.  "The Annoying Song" was another favorite.  Look it up if you'd like it to be stuck in your head.

I was waaay too heavy metal in the 90s for this sissygirlsong, so I only recently listened to it and I have to admit I love it.  Damn teenagers; think they know everything…

Being of Celtic descent, I was open to listening to The Cranberries, especially their more rockin' songs. I also figured out I could entertain my peers with octave-skipping like Dolores O'Riordan, which I believe is innate in women of Celtic heritage.  Maybe I'm delusional… I've been called worse.

So, I absolutely despise "Lovefool", even still, but I've always loved "My Favourite Game".  I never watched the video until today.  A lady with 2-tone hair, lots of black eyeliner, leather pants, and an affinity for old cars…. are we related?

Things I Learned From Sassy Magazine

With the 90s fashion resurgence, there has apparently been a renewed interest in Sassy magazine.  People who weren't even born during my Gen X teen years are wearing things I wore to high school and college.  I could write a whole entry titled "Let's Not Do That Again". :)

Amid this 90s vintage fixation the young kids have, my thoughts drifted back to Sassy after spotting a few issues in a vintage store.  As the weird alt/heavy metal girl in a small town, in a trailer across the street from a cow pasture, my Gramma's gift subscription to Sassy was a Godsend among the other options for light reading. (I preferred classic literature anyway.)

As a little girl, I was given She-Ra magazine, on which I drew armpit hair, chest hair, and moustaches on everyone.   I had been He-Man fan and had a serious conversation with my aunt prior to starting school, making my case for having my name legally changed to Teela.  I didn't need no stinkin' She-Ra, although I did like playing with my neighbor/friend's ice lady doll.

Until Jem came along, I admit I sometimes enjoyed Barbie magazine with it's fashion spreads.  I remember a particular floral pastel Ralph Lauren-esque spread in which a lovely black model had a ponytail at the nape of her neck, gathered again at the bottom, creating a big, beautiful puff past her shoulders.  I also remembered showing my momma and requesting the hairstyle for school, and being disappointed to hear "Honey, your hair won't do that." (My hair was thin and blonde and would not grow.  It's ok.  I made up for it and had all the hair I wanted after I dyed my hair black and could easily match all kinds of weave to it.) 

In my teenage years, along came 'Teen and Seventeen magazines.  I tried "fitting in" at certain points of my formative years.  I tried to relate to these publications.  I just couldn't.  Then, along came Sassy.  Sassy showed me a lot of things, mostly through reinforcing that it was ok not to fit in.

Sassy had models that looked like regular teenage girls, who even sometimes cut their own hair or did their own piercings.  I could relate to that.  They had regular articles on DIY accessories and clothing- making retro pillowcase dresses, skullcaps from turtlenecks, and rocking (actual) baby tee-shirts before "baby tees" were manufactured.  As a girl who hand-sewed her own patchwork top hat (loved and hated by many, for the record) inspired by Linda Perry and Slash, and DIYed her jeans into bellbottoms in admiration of the late Cliff Burton, I could relate to that. 

In the same vein of rock-star inspiration, Sassy showed me that was okay, too.  They published fashion spreads inspired by Axl Rose and T-Rex, and showed models in other articles wearing things like a vintage Cramps tee shirt.  A particular piece on mix-matched swimwear separates (before separates were widely available- you really would have had to mix up different sets or thrifted pieces) still stands out in my mind, and I still seek out pieces in thrift stores that complement each other when no exact match is available or desired.

Sassy's poetry page featured pieces sent in by readers that often questioned social norms, asserted independence and self-confidence, and reassured other girls like me through the words of others who weren't concerned with fitting in.  It was like a coffeehouse-on-a-page for those who had no such tangible haunt to speak of. (My hometown had one, I just couldn't get there.)  Sassy's articles often enlightened on topics that other magazines wouldn't touch, or flat-out made a mockery of some of the typical articles one might find in other magazines geared toward young women.

Sassy taught me today, via a quick eBay search, that if I would have held onto my back issues, I could be making a small fortune right now- especially if I would have kept the one with the Kurt Cobain cover.

In short, Sassy taught me it's fine and dandy not to be like all the other girls.  I thank God they did, too- because in those brief, fleeting periods wherein I tried, I sure as holy hell couldn't.  I've always only been able to be me. 

Photos to follow soon...

Vintage for Valentine's Day

Here ya go…

Any Excuse...

...to wear 40s and 50s suits!   The temperature here in Houston has dropped 14 degrees since I woke up, and it ain't stoppin' for no one, no how.  Actually, it'll stop in the upper 20s in the wee hours of the morning, which has prompted me to pile every blanket I could acquire onto my bed.  I'm a subtropical creature; I need to be kept warm, and my heater is sub-par (to put it nicely).

In the meantime, I'll wear a 50s suit as I'm out and about, doing all my Sunday stuff.  It's from The Forester Shop in Poughkeepsie, and according to the other label, "tailored by joselli".  It's a good thing I found some vintage-inspired brown suede wedges in San Antonio last week.  They're perfect for this suit.

Working by your lonesome with your computer as your camera ain't easy, but I work with what I've got.  The checked pattern in the weave doesn't show up in the attempted full-length shot.  Neither does the rest of me from the knees-down.

My Christmas tree and loveseat are conspiring against me, I'm sure of it.  Anyway, simple slicked hair today with a bun at the nape of my neck- I'm avoiding hairspray that a more elaborate style would require, because I'm really gonna avoid getting my hair wet (translate: washing it) while the temperatures at night dip below freezing.  The water heater in this place, like my heater, is also sub-par, mostly because it's in a boiler room shared by 20 other apartments and a laundry room.

And so, stay cozy.  I will be sleeping in my new drop-seat hooded jammies with feet, made of polar fleece with rockets all over them, drinking hot tea.  There's a fine line between weird and endearing, and I walk it.  If you're gonna wear something warm and unflattering to sleep, why eff around when you can go all in and be flat-out ridiculous?

I'm Not One for Pop Music...

... but I must say Lily Allen is pretty awesome with her sarcastic assault on pop culture,  and she's adorable to boot.  I'm afraid a lot of people aren't gonna get it, especially young people.  I might be an official old lady for saying that.

Fair Warning: video is NSFW.

Oh, and newsflash:  If you look like the Invisible Man is givin' it to you good, you're not "dancing".  That's just a blatant public display of bedroom skills. 

Sinead O'Connor is a Badass.

Just sayin'. As if her musical talent didn't provide enough proof, she writes up some wisdom for the misguided.

Another One Bites the Dust!

So this week, Terry de Havilland Transmuters became a little more rare.  Once upon a time, I bought a pair with red rubber spike panels and metal "allycat" spike panels on eBay.  I ended up selling both sets of panels, but the boots didn't meet the reserve price, so I kept them.   I continued to use them for gogo dancing, as my evolving fashion tendencies no longer involved being 5 inches taller on a daily basis.  They were relegated to a box in the top of my closet labeled "fetish boots", along with my Magic boots. Another pair with black rubber spikes came into my possession, which I passed along to a lovely gal who modeled and gogo danced alongside me on a few occasions (she would need them for future gogo gigs anyway).

And so, I laced up my Transmuters (we old-skoolers considered anything with a zipper "cheaterboots"), buckled all the buckles, took about 5 steps, and walked right off of the platform of the left boot.  As I took off the right boot, the entire platform came off of it, too.  I evaluated the situation the next day, and having already E-6000'd weak spots on the outer sides years ago, was prepared to hot-melt-glue-gun the holy hell out of them in an effort to Frankenstein them back into wearable condition.  I found that the entire rubbery-foam platform on either shoe was disintegrating.

I guess I'll be vacuuming again, with the rotted bits of what were once bouncy platforms having disintegrated all over the carpet an' all.  

And so, I bid my old faithful Transmuters "adieu".  The moral of the story is: while you're under a rock, your crazy shoes are disintegrating, so "Dance as if no one's watching, sing as if no one's listening, and live each day as though it were your last." (Irish Proverb)  I've had too many people become seriously ill and/or die this year, and tomorrow is promised to none of us.  And on that note, to quote Rufus (as my parents often do) "Be excellent to each other."

And to my Transmuters, Rest in Pieces. :(

Photo circa 200...5?

It's My Lucky Lucite Day!

Soooo, every other time I see my friend Erica, she has a cute barrette in her hair, and it's vintage, and I never seem to find any like them... until today.  It's my lucky day for barrettes and the like!

First, I found this lovely hair pin- red, pink, and clear ombre' lucite with rhinestones all along the arc- not a single one missing either.  I will be skewering it through a bun or twist the next time I get super fancy.

 I'm more excited about the barrettes though- a whole lot of them (literally).

Keeeep a'goin'...

 But wait, there's more!

 

And so, now I have a whole bunch of the type of barrettes I've been looking for in the past ten years (longer, really).  I'm sure I have a vintage box of some kind around here in which to store them.

Until next time- I may have to have Tiki Week for my more recent tropical finds.  One of the local coffeehouse/bars in these parts has started a monthly Tiki Night, and that's cause to celebrate.

Beauty and the Beach

This weekend, I participated in the 5th annual Galveston Beach Revue Bathing Beauties Contest.  I kept my swimsuit project pretty top-secret, as usual, so now you get to see what I've been working on whilst under my rock.

Photo courtesy of the lovely Formica Dinette (Alice) <3

That's me on the left, in a 60's inspired fringe bikini with clip-on seashell accents, a shell fascinator on my beehive, and shell shoe clips.  My mancreature and I scavenged for shells at one of my favorite beachcombing spots.  The top is made from a vintage pattern, and the bottom pattern was drafted and further modified by yours truly.  Karen (center), who works for the National WWII Museum, is in a 1940s chenille two-piece, with which she wore an adorable multicolor-striped chenille beach cape and orchids in her hair.  Alice (right) is in a late 50s/early 60s sea fan print sarong swimsuit, accessorized by her handmade sea fan, coral, and pearl tiara and a hand-painted hand fan.   My friend Alex's wife Amalie in the background is hiding her 40s-inspired suit (we had to be in robes until the contest started).

Every year, whether I place or not,  I have a lot of fun.  The best part of the whole thing is meeting some nice ladies, some with extraordinary stories, and helping each other behind-the-scenes.  One lady had battled scoliosis and had bionic-woman rods in her back.  One had lost a tremendous amount of weight and looked fabulous.  Some had recently given birth (I couldn't tell!).  A few were over 50 and were still super cute.  I met several new ladies, reconnected with friends from years before, and got to know a couple of ladies that I hadn't gotten to know in the past events.  

Some ladies were shy or anxious, but I really think we all get at least a little nervous back there, so some of us Beach-Revue-Veterans reassured others and encourage them to just have fun with it.  The bottom line is we all work hard to make ourselves into our own ideas of beauty while working within guidelines of certain fashion eras, and everyone would like to win.  There are so many final touches and detail-tweaks (and sometimes small wardrobe emergencies) that happen in the dressing room and in the contestant tent, and girls always help each other.  We're all girls.  We're all pretty and doing our best.  We all want the same thing. My favorite thing about participating in the event is the camaraderie that develops as these women help, reassure, and encourage each other.  Nothing is more beautiful than kindness and love.

However modest any given suit may seem, however pretty any of the ladies may be, just about any woman knows it's not easy to get out there in a swimsuit.  In daily life, women are self-concious about random people judging them; on days like these, we literally walk past actual judges.  Even the youngest and prettiest and most physically-fit girls have things about themselves that make them think twice.  None of us are perfect, and we're all our own worst critics.  

The effort each lady puts into her entire look and the confidence and poise one must conjure up to get out there in a swimsuit all goes into making the event fun for locals and tourists alike, and benefits the island by officially kicking of the tourist season that is so essential to Galveston's economy. I'm so glad IBC revived the Bathing Beauties Contest, and that it has grown every year, thanks to their efforts and the benevolent help of sponsors.  I'll be back again next year, supporting the event and my beloved hometown.

Fancy Seeing You Here...

...or should I say me?  It's been a while.  I know, I knowwwww...... focus, Dana-san, fooooocus!  Sometimes change just happens, and sometimes change takes a while, and "Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans" (John Lennon was right).

In the time I've been under a rock, we lost Nick Curran too soon, the Jungle Rockers got back together, one of my best friends visited from New York, Justine taught me the best way to prepare a grapefruit for proper devouring, and a beautiful mancreature returned, among a multitude of other things happening.

Along my recent adventures,  I caught up with my friend Shana (one of two Shanafriends).  She recently started Pin Up Perfection Magazine, in addition to working her regular job and everything that happens in between.  I'm so proud of her for cultivating her ideas and making them happen! :)

And so, after being underground again, I'm going to blog more... again.  But in the meantime, I'll be working on mending and alterations, and a project for the Galveston Beach Revue.  Break time is over, and I leave you with this.

Until my next blog (soon- I promise!), check out The Lone Star Deluxe Car Show this coming weekend.

Panty-Girdle-a-Go-Go

So it's been a while... Happy New Year. :)  It's been about time for a while now to get a few things rollin', and a few things are in motion.  I should still probably "trim the fat" and focus on fewer things.

At any rate, I've resolved to list things online constantly, even if only a few at a time.  I've finally listed some new old stock panty girdles (keeping bidder identities private, of course), although it's tempting to keep them for myself.

There's more where that came from.  I suspect these were only worn once if at all:

I have more vintage and repro (particularly some awesome Betsey Johnson dresses) listed, and more to come.  I'm off to both jobs today, with a vintage birthday present in-hand for someone dear, and so I bid you "adeui" for now.

Have Yourself a Vintage Little Christmas...

For the first time in my adult life, I have a real Christmas tree.  I think I was the first person at the Disco Kroger to buy a tree, and I think the guys setting them up must've thought I was crazy, I was so eager and happy.  I was supposed to get one last year, but was on road trips for at least 3 consecutive weekends at this time of year.  By the time I could look at trees, I touched them and all of the needles fell off.  This year, I bought one the Sunday after Thanksgiving.  It rode shotgun on the way home.  I'm pretty sure it's name is Eugene even though it seems like a girl. Then again, in my neighborhood, sometimes you can't be sure.
Even though I have a few modern ornaments that are nouveau-sentimental (yeah, I just made that up) and match ones I got for my brother, some vintage rummage-sale finds, and a few mirrored atomic stars by Houston artist Hepcat Raphael, they won't be on my tree this year.  Eugene is decked out solely in ornaments passed to me by my Gramma.  Her birthday fell on the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe (another coincidental reason why she was awesome), and she would've been 96 this December.

I didn't hide the light cord, but I never look at it with a camera flash either.  My Gramma's old tree lights are on my porch, some of them blinking at random intervals.  I used the old-school lights my Daddy gave me for the tree.
There'll be no presents under my tree this year.  I don't really want or need much of anything.  I've sold, given to friends, donated to charity, consigned, and left on the curb so many things lately- and I'm not even done yet.  I've instructed everyone to just pay their bills and buy for their kids & be happy.  Last year, the only tangible thing I wanted was a boot jack, and I got a vintage one in the most precious manner.  This year, I'll just enjoy my tree.  It's like having fresh flowers in tree form for less than $5 a week, covered in memories and love.

My Lucky Day?

I've come to believe the luck o' the Irish isn't all it's cracked up to be.  Maybe my luck hasn't changed, but I had some lucky little moments this weekend in my travels.

Soooo, I drive through some small towns on alternate routes to visit various branches of my family, grasshoppers comb their hair (not really, just wanted to wedge my favorite Stevie Ray song in there), and I happen upon places that Google didn't even know existed.  I found this:

With four-leaf clovers, lucky numbers, an elephant with a raised trunk, rabbit's feet, a wishbone, and a horseshoe, it's apparently the luckiest tea towel ever.

Now, I have never, ever, evereverever owned any Bakelite in my whole entire life... until yesterday.  I found these cherry-red carved dress (or shoe or scarf or fur) clips...

...and these butterscotch clip-on hoops.

Of course, I found them super el cheapo.  I find Bakelite all the time, really- it's just always beyond my budget.  My millinery professor told me when she and I were discussing vintage jewelry, that her mother had loads of Bakelite jewelry but got rid of it because it was dime store jewelry way back when. She didn't realize people like us would want it now, and that she could have gotten a pretty penny for it all.

Alas, I'm pretty sure I can't rock that butterscotch color, with my complexion and all, so I'm pretty sure they'll be consigned or meet some other "for sale" fate.  The dress clips, though, are probably mine forever.

Black Beauty

I wanted to get a few more photos of sleepwear from my collection, but Sleep Week didn't result in any more sleep for me (wishful thinking- silly me!), and therefore resulted in decreased productivity.  (Don't you hate how that happens?)

Anyway, here's a set by Vanity Fair that I love:

 Both the nightie and robe are double-layer nylon- translucent cream and sheer black.

 The details are so pretty- lace flower appliques and little pearl beads.

We'll see what turns up this weekend... and what next week will bring.  Happy Friday!

Pretty Pleats

I have a penchant for crystal pleated nylon.  When it's allover and see-through, who wouldn't?!  This is a Vanity Fair babydoll nightie from the early 60s.

These panties, also Vanity Fair, are later- different tags, different pleating, different lace trim- but they match well enough.

I have this peignoir in my Etsy shop, where you can see the whole set.

It's by Formfit Rodgers and has a robe to match.  Gorgeousness!

sLeapin' Leopards

I could make a week's worth of blog entries on my Vanity Fair leopard print collection alone.  Today, you get to see some of the sleepwear.

This little nighty was a super el cheapo find at a resale chain in Austin. I love pleasant surprises, like when buyers don't care (or don't know) about things I love and price them el cheapo.

I've found the hip hugger panties and tap pants, just in case I feel matchy-matchy.

I usually just use the tap pants like bloomers for swing dancing so no one sees my skivvies.  I suppose they could make the nighty like shorty jammies if I wore them together.

I have these jammies on Etsy, although I'm tempted to keep them myself.

With a chill in the night air lately, I gotta stay cozy somehow.  I might as well do it in style.

Peachy Keen

Once upon a time, my dear friend Karen gave me a lovely quilted bedjacket.  I'm about to start using such things as I keep the windows open on cool nights.

It's handmade, and silk.

This pretty thing was found in a questionable neighborhood, hiding in the lingerie and sleepwear rack.

It's a no-name, but pretty nonetheless.  

Very reminiscent of Gil Elvgren pinups, backlit in sheer robes and nightgowns. 

So, the moral of the story is: If you have friends who also hoard vintage, or you venture into sketchy neighborhoods in your thrifting adventures, you get pretty things.  The End.

It's Sleep Week!

I know when I began this blog, I promised you a "Lingerie Week".  You can thank my apparent ADD for that not happening yet.  The shorty pajamas I posted about yesterday (a week late themselves), coupled with my longing for a full night's sleep since about March, have inspired me to post about vintage sleepwear all week.  It's Sleep Week!  I know, I knowwww- it doesn't sound quite as exciting as Shark Week, unless you're sleep deprived or love vintage sleepwear and loungewear.

Let's start with a piece Evelyn gave me.  Back when we worked at a resale chain together, she would wear this piece layered with lots of other things, pinned up to create texture and show colors of pieces underneath.  (We're creative types, me and her.)  In my ubergoth dreadlocked youth, I still harbored an affinity for vintage that went waaaaay back- it just had to be all black for a while.  And so when I saw the nightgown incorporated into her ensemble, I said "If you ever get rid of that, I love it."  When Evelyn purged her closet, she remembered the suggestion that I thought had been in vain (and forgotten), and passed it along to me!

It's an old Kickernick gown, and the little bow on the bust bundles an applique bouquet between layers of sheer nylon.

Speaking of appliques... Being a Texas gal, I have a special place in my heart for yellow roses.  This Vanity Fair piece has appliqued lace roses at the bust and hem.

Yellow is not my best color.  I do not care.  I love it.

Some of these nighties are so pretty and dress-like, that ladies sometimes mistake them for dresses.  A dear, sweet, very fashionable friend once told me she needed a petticoat for a vintage dress she recently bought.  We went shopping at a few local vintage stores in search of one, and when she brought the dress in to try with a petticoat,  it turned out to be a blue nightgown like this with different embellishments.  Then again, I used to wear vintage slips with combat boots and religious jewelry, so who am I to talk? ;)

Vintagey Goodness at Home and Abroad...

So last weekend, I figured it'd be warm enough to wear my red sarong one more time for the season to vend at the vintage market with my friend from EaDo Vintage.  Houston got a cool front that day, and I put on cozy jammies that night and slept with the windows open, listening to the leaves (it reminds me of the sound of the sea, and puts me to sleep almost instantly).
The jammies I got in trade from another vendor did not get worn that night (yaaaay for moving merchandise and getting what I want at the same time!).  I'm pretty sure they're old stock, and I washed them last week.  They're adorable.

Pink elephants!!  Rhinestones!  Sequin bubbles!  They're Lady Duff shorty pajamas.  If you read up on her, you'll know she was a badass.  She had passed away by the time these jammies were made, but the company was apparently still producing lingerie and loungewear well past her death in the 30s.

It's rare to find shorty pajamas or a babydoll set with the panty or bloomers still with the top.

I also got an open-bottom girdle in the trade. Looky.

It's by Goddess and it's gorgeous.  Garter tabs are present, and still in good shape.  I think I traded pretty well for a panty girdle and a half slip.

That was last weekend.  This weekend, I made a road trip to visit family, stopped at a car show on the way back, and of course, stopped at a few antique stores along the way.  I'm proud (and a little pained) to say I passed up a couple of pieces of luggage like this.  I'm exhibiting more self-control these days, forserious.  It probably also helped that the car show was in a small town where almost all of the antique stores were closed on Sunday, and the one I found open did not accept credit cards.  About a third of the cars were newer, but I did get to see a few early 60s Studebakers, several late 20s Fords, a couple of late 50s Galaxies, a few Bel-Airs, and a couple of 40s Mercurys.  I've got to remember to start bringing a camera along with me, and then remember to use it.

I was barely prepared for the cool front that snuck up on the area overnight, but the angora cardigan in my trunk saved me.  My hair held up so well in the wind, I figured "why not take a picture?".  I'm a little reluctant to post it, but here goes.  Barely anyone reads this anyway, right?! HA!

I love my brown blouse.  :)  Some color is usually added to me in studio shots like the recent doll shoot by Mileslove Studios Eye Candy. I turn out extra-pale in photos.  A few friends have suggested I do hair tutorial videos.  Any thoughts?

Summer's Last Hurrah

Just when I thought Summer was over and started to put tropical things out of my mind (and hope in vain for another cool front), more tropical goodness put itself in my path rather unexpectedly.

It began last weekend with a couple of random antique store and roadside market stops.  I don't wear bangles a lot.  Small bone structure makes for scrawny wrists, and hands that can Houdini out of almost anything.  I still couldn't resist these:

They're not as squared as some I've seen, but will be interesting among my round bangles nonetheless (when I remember to wear them).

I also found an interesting addition to my handkerchief collection:

It appears to be a late 60s or early 70s hankie, made in Japan of a nylon and polynosic blend.   "Polynosic?", you say?  Polynosic, indeed.  It's code for rayon.  Rayon has lots of tricky code names, and lots of nasty tricks that textile manufacturers and other companies won't tell you about.  If you love your girlybits, you can read this article, and if you process and file that information in your brain, it will change the way you do some things (including products you buy).

I really use handkerchiefs... forserious.   Ones with souvenir prints and 3-d applique work will never make it into my purse, however, and are collection-only.  Maybe next week would be a good time to show pieces from my collection- untouched artsy ones as well as pretty printed ones that get used during church, sad movies, funerals, and allergy season.

So, last week was a blur, but I did come across this beauty:

It's a Les Bernard coral necklace.  Judging from the clasp, it's probably late 50s or early 60s.

This thing here... this is a gem.  Not a literal gem like the precious coral above, but a deadstock Kamehameha piece with the paper tag still inside.

As far as I can tell, it's an early 60s piece.  The bust is more rounded than a typical 50s silhouette, but the bottoms are still pretty high-waisted.  I wish Dolly had legs, so I could put the bottoms on her rump and display them properly.  I found this beauty at Beatniks in the Heights.

And so, as I long for sleep and prepare for a busy weekend (including making glamour happen with Mileslove Studios Eye Candy), I leave you with this.

Are You Not MEN?!

In my weekend wanderings, I met a lovely couple.  The lady makes customized hula hoops, and the gentleman designs men's shirts.  Being a small-scale designer myself, we discussed fabric and production while I perused the available designs.  Had I been a man or had one to shop for, I certainly would have bought one of his shirts for several reasons.

First and foremost, all of his designs are made in the U.S.!  I love that.  Like myself, he never wants to outsource production and would prefer to pay American people a living wage.  It does keep cost higher, but frankly, you pay about the same retail price for clothing manufactured overseas.  (For example, I do love Trashy Diva, but was disappointed that their dresses are not American-made, which I expected for the prices.)  Not only are Flameless Shirts made in the U.S., but (clapclapclapclap) deep in the heart of Texas!

Designer Brooke Wilton makes classic men's shirts with a vintage-inspired style, unusual modern fabrics, and cool details (right down to the buttons!).  Some of the shirts are allover print, but my favorites are actually the accent ones like this Japanese wave print.  The print is even on the underside of the button placket, and I love the diagonal split pockets!

This is one of my favorites, and soon-to-be discontinued because the fabric is out of print:

Jellyfish!!!!  Maybe it's because I'm from the sea myself (as a little girl, I aspired to be a mermaid when I grew up), but I love this to bits!

The construction is high quality- you can tell he works with skilled seamstresses to make shirts that are built to last.  He pays attention to detail and includes print in unexpected places like button-placket facing, and chooses unique buttons to complement each print.

And so, to all my guy friends wanting custom western suits, the answer is still "no".  Sorry, I'm not doing all that interior hand-stitching.  I do recommend checking out FlamelessShirt.com or their Etsy store for locally-made high-quality menswear that's out-of-the-ordinary. 

All photos courtesy of Flameless Shirts