Wexford Girl

Advice for Mature Ladies

I was reading Harper's Bazaar the other day. I have an odd addiction to fashion magazines, especially Vogue, and Harper's Bazaar was quite like Vogue. I hate the Cosmopolitans and Glamours, all that "what does he really like in bed?" business, but I adore reading about fashion. Who are the hot new designers? What's the must-have bag of the season? Where does Chloe Sevigny shop for vintage Lanvin and Dior? How far can Miuccia Prada take the "so ugly it's beautiful" aesthetic?

It's not like I spend my money on Marni jackets and Chrisian Louboutin heels. That's the joke. If anything I am way too familiar with the Banana Republic sale room. I just don't know how people spend that kind of money. I mean, $800 for a Nicolas Ghesquiere tank with some sequins on it, a tank top! Sometimes I'm reading Vogue, and there's a profile of a pretty young thing (not necessarily a model or movie star) who talks about wearing Zac Posen for parties and Tuleh dresses for less formal occasions. How does she afford that? It baffles me.

OK, here's one. In this month's Vogue, a freelance writer, Sarah Harris, says,"I can't think of anything that beats a Lanvin silk shift that suspands from the shoulders." She's a freelance writer! I guess if you're being quoted in Vogue you are probably doing OK, and maybe she has a trust fund, but still.

So I was reading HP and I came across an article on dressing for your age, which I thought I should read carefully since I am now 40. Here are some of the rules I should be following:

As you get older, showing less is more. (OK, I agree with that.)

No sneakers - the only people who run are children and thieves. (Well that's just ridiculous. Are we supposed to work out, garden, and run errands in Manolos?)

After 40, no shorts. (Maybe no short shorts, but the slim above-the-knee kind are OK. Actually I would never wear shorts unless I was hiking or camping.)

Under 30, don't wear real jewels. Over 40, no costume jewelry - only the real thing. (my favorite earrings are a pair I got from a street seller in New York for $5. I can't give up cheap jewelry. The real jewels I have: a strand of pearls, diamond earrings, and my engagement ring. That's enough. Eric's not allowed to buy me any more.)

Stop wearing your hair long at 40-ish. You look too young from the back and too old from the front. (I kind of agree with this, to an extent. My hair is quite long now; I like the option of a ponytail. But next time maybe I'll get it chopped to shoulder length.)

1987

Last night I watched No Way Out. I had forgotten how hot Kevin Costner used to be, before he got all middle-aged and obsessed with making baseball movies. And where did Sean Young go? IMDb claims she's been working steadily since then, but I haven't heard of any of the movies she's been in.

I can't believe it was made almost 20 years ago (1987). It holds up well, despite Sean Young's big '80s hair and the computer-related dialogue: "The computer has to make millions of calculations. Why that could take HOURS!"

I started thinking about where I was 20 years ago, which was art college in Waterford. So I found a couple of photos from that time.

I was heading to the bus one morning to take me back to Waterford from Wexford after a weekend at home (the two towns are only 40 miles apart, so I often came home for weekends). My prescient mother was laughing at my outfit and insisted on documenting it with a photograph. She said something like, "I want to take a picture so in 20 years you can see the daft way you used to dress."

I am wearing an enormous sweater I crocheted. The bit hanging down on the right is left over from when I started the sweater. I made it too wide so after about 5 rows I made it narrower, leaving the extra as a sort of tail that I didn't bother to sew inside so it was hidden. I'm also wearing a red beret, a scarf knit by my friend Simon, a black skirt, and yellow leggings. Completing the ensemble are fishnet tights, purple socks, and red shoes. I thought I looked HOT, and in 1987 I probably did.

The next photo is taken in the park that was near our art school. I'm posing with Barbara and Simon. How many colors am I wearing? Let's see, green scarf, gray scarf, yellow top, pink skirt, black tights, blue boots. I was all about color in 1986/87, a departure from 1984/85, when it was all black and white.

I also had interesting hair at that time, big and curly up top, short back and sides, and at the very bottom at the back, some little TAILS that looked ridiculous because they were all poufy.

I love the '80s!

The Little Ones

Here are my nieces Kaylin and Chloe. Chloe just had her Christening last weekend. We were supposed to be there; My brother and his wife chose Eric and me as the Godparents. Because of the whole hospital and surgery business, we had to cancel our trip to Ireland and Italy, but we hope to reschedule it for later in the year, perhaps September.

I was sad last weekend to hear reports from everyone about the Christening and subsequent revelry. We are still the Godparents; my parents stood in as proxies during the ceremony, but it was so disappointing not to be there. I've never met this new baby. I've also never met my sister's new baby, Nathan.

Sometimes it's hard to be 5,000 miles from my family.

Paintbox

I brought my paints up from the garage yesterday, where they had been stored since the night of my birthday party. I'm feeling the itch to start painting again. Eric and I are going to do Open Studios again. That's not until October, but I want to have 200 paintings for it. Is that too lofty a goal? I aimed for that last year but I only ended up with about 100.

I want to paint more Mexican wrestlers, since they are still popular, and more of the flower/plant/swirly textile-ish ones (like below). I like painting birds sometimes. A bird I want to paint next is the dodo. I love the dodo! What an odd looking creature.

In other news, I met with my surgeon today for a follow-up and she was very pleased with my progress. She did warn me to be vigilant with the no-lifting-anything-over-20-lbs rule, or I might get a hernia. I brought her a bottle of Veuve Cliquot champagne with a card that said, "thank you for fixing me."

By the Beach

Living by the beach, at the western edge of San Francisco, attracts some creative souls. I love living out here. Parking is never a problem, and I can walk a couple of blocks and be on the beach any time I want.

I also love the sight of surfers walking down the street in wetsuits, carrying their boards. It doesn't really feel like part of San Francisco, but rather a little beach village. A lot of our friends would never live here because it's "so far out." Suits me; it keeps it sleepy out here.

When Eric and I first moved here, we waited eagerly for a Balboa Street renaissance, hoping that some cool bars, cafes, bookstores, and restaurants would move in, and create something similar to the 9th and Irving area. That hasn't happened and it doesn't look like it's going to. But that's OK. We've grown to love quirky Balboa, with its double-feature movie house, good Vietnamese food, and Simple Pleasures cafe. There is only one bar, the dive-y Hockey Haven. There are some produce shops, a hardware store, a locksmith, and not much else. Oh, there is a new-ish Pilates and yoga studio though, which I haven't visited yet, although I keep meaning to.

Here are some colorful sights around the neighborhood this weekend.

Cracks

I was taking a walk the other day and I came across these cracks in the pavement. It definitely looked deliberate. Inside some of the cracks there appeared to be glass. How on earth did someone do this? It looks kind of cool. I'm discovering all kinds of neighborhood secrets on my daily short walks.

Luella at Target

We took a trip to Target during the week (my first retail experience in weeks) and I loved the new collection by British designer Luella Bartley. I tried on some stuff, but sadly, it was a little young for me. I don't need to be wearing punky taffeta ballgowns and ribcage-skimming jackets, although they would look adorable on my 18-year-old niece, Leigh.

I did get this awesome purse though, on sale for $15! I love it. It makes me feel cool and edgy.

T-shirt Rescue

I bought this t-shirt last year at Banana. I liked the color and also the fact that the sleeves were a bit longer than usual. Then, the first day I wore it, I decided to clean the bathtub. With gusto. And bleach.

Needless to say, I got a few splatters of bleach on the shirt, and I haven't been able to wear it since. I've had an idea for rescuing it for a while; I just haven't had the time. So now that I'm home with nothing but time, I decided to take on the project.

I stitched a few daisies and French knots to hide the yellow spots where the bleach hit. I hope they don't look too weird and lopsided when I wear it. I'm also not the most graceful sticher in the world, so I hope people don't look too closely at it.

Japantown

I love Japantown here in San Francisco. There are many great sushi restaurants of course, but what I really love is the Japanese bookstore and the little shop that sells stickers and notebooks and all things kawaii.

There seems to be a craze right now among blogging crafters for Japanese crafting books. Some people are so talented that they can make things by just looking at a picture, being unable to follow directions written in Japanese. I don't make stuff like clothes and aprons and softies, but I like looking at the books.

Japantown is littered with those sticker and photo machines. Here is a sheet we got last time Amy and Randy were in town (by the way, check out Amy's new blog). Some of the text says "Flesh Orange & Flesh Lemon" and "try to be goot." Love it!

Into the Past

I found more old photos yesterday. This one shows me, my sister Liz, and brothers John and Michael (Michael is the baby my sister is holding like a doll). I remember that dress I'm wearing. It was red and purple and I loved it. The other dress I remember from that era was a yellow one with white ric-rac and a zip down the front.

I love this next photo because it depicts me being affectionate to Liz, which to be honest didn't happen much; we were usually at each other's throats.

I also like how jaunty my hair looks. My hair was thick and prone to tangles, so to avoid my tears while she brushed it, my mother kept it chopped short. This, paired with my boyish outfits, often led to me being mistaken for a boy when I was a kid. One year when I was nine or ten, we made our yearly visit down to Kerry to visit my Dad's side of the family. We drove to my grandmother's cottage and all piled out of the car and into her front room, where she sat, arms outstretched to greet her grandchildren. I clearly remember what she said, "Oh here's Liz and John and Michael! Where's Anne, and who's this little boy?" I was mortified.

It's hard to believe little Liz now has five children, and cute Johnny has two!

This next one is me when I was about two. I love the red coat! I look a lot like my niece Kaylin here.