Get Up and Dance!



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Best. dancing. shoes. EVAH

Yesterday, I went with friends to Riverside Park for a live concert.   It was a great time!   Typical summer concert, everyone brings chairs, food, wine, and we all hang out for a few hours listening to music.

You know, when I go to events like this, or weddings, or at a restaurant with a dance floor... I always tap my foot, and wriggle around a little in my chair.   I want to dance, and I don't.   I always feel very self-conscious about getting up and just dancing,  in front of strangers.   Why this is, I don't know.   Onstage, I'm a dancing fool.   Onstage, it is choreographed, I am not myself, but the character I am portraying.   And I have always viewed the audience as friends, not strangers.

In a public social setting, there is no escaping myself.

But at these events, I always feel a little regretful, when some fantastic tune starts playing... and I remain in my chair.   I disappoint myself.

So back to Riverside.   Last night, towards the end of the concert, a small group of people wound up standing in front of the stage, dancing.   I had noticed one older gentleman earlier that evening, kind of grooving in his chair.   Now he was up there with a half dozen other people of assorted ages, shaking his moneymaker.   I sipped wine, and watched the dancers idly while I chatted with my friends.

It was a good ten minutes before I noticed... that older gentleman who was out there having such a fine time... had a prosthetic leg.   

And in that moment, I felt so ashamed of my fears.   My fear of being judged.   My fear of falling on my ass.   This man was out there showing all us wallflowers up, and taking joy in his dancing!   He completely ignored what would be, to many of us, a tragic misfortune.  This man was totally fearless.   Totally fierce.   Totally free.

I decided, late last night, that that is the last time I ever sit something out again.   I am going to remember the joy in that man's movements, and in his face, and I am going to get up and dance, goddammit.

So here is a little something for you all to dance to....  GET UP AND DANCE!



xoxoxo,
~LBD

Celestial Cavalli



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I bought this Roberto Cavalli skirt several years ago on eBay and never wore it. I kept saying I was going to have it shortened - but never did.   And I never could figure out what to wear with it, that didn't make it even more over-the-top than it already is.

Brown denim, with a celestial print.


And a little mermaid-pleat


It has loveliest pale aqua-green and ivory-white nebulae, gold stars and script, gold hardware, and leather zipper pulls

The pattern makes me think of The Golden Compass, or Sting's The Soul Cages

For the past several years, I have vacillated between selling it, and keeping it.   I could not bring myself to sell it.  I love the cut of the skirt, and I LOVE the print. Oh I do love me a celestial print! 

I finally decided that it was ridiculous to keep this skirt, when I could sell it and use the money for something else.   So a few weeks ago, I took pictures and wrote the listing for an eBay auction.   I had it all done, and previewed the listing...

And I thought, "Nope. I'm going to get it shortened, and I am keeping it.... and I am going to wear it if it kills me!"
I took it to my seamstress last week and asked her to shorten it, and she refused. She thought I should leave it as-is, so I did.






Yesterday, finally, I wore this skirt. My happiness factor - like the pattern on the skirt - was out of this world!


I am SO glad I didn't shorten it!

The rest is not fancy or high-end:  Gianni Bini bag (thrifted), Limited Cropped Sweater (thrifted), Nine West pumps, Guess Sunglasses, Rose-gold watch (gift).  The hat is from a boutique in the Blue Ridge Mountains.   And my trusty pearl studs, bought in Tokyo.


I now have a few Cavalli pieces in my wardrobe (all hunted down relentlessly on eBay), and they are all like this - sexy, quirky, imaginative, over-the-top. This is definitely a brand I can get behind!

I'll Be Watching You...



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I stepped off the elevator at JC's condo on Monday night, to find this... watching the elevator door....





What the actual f*ck. 




Creepy f*cking clown doll.   When the elevator doors open, this thing is actually lined up to make eye contact with the person on the elevator.


JC has recently acquired  new neighbors in the units on either side of his.   I'm not sure which neighbor this belongs to, but she keeps putting out awful stuff on the windowsills, apparently under the mistaken belief that this common area is free range for her decorating leftovers.


I shudder to imagine what the inside of the actual condo looks like.   If I had to guess, I would say it involves a LOT of Precious Moments figurines, and probably a hundred more dolls like this one, on wall-mounted shelves around the bed, watching their human owner sleep.

Since this photo was taken, she has put out more awful sh*t.   JC got caught up in the excitement of this, and I found him yesterday, heading out the door with my toy accordion (this is another story for another day), to put with the as-yet-unoccupied windowsill.   I made him bring it back.  I pointed out that we did not want to be awakened by someone testing the accordion at 6am, to see if it works.  (Pothead Neighbor Across the Hall, I am looking at you).


I am planning a series of fun little signs for this doll to hold:   

"I'll Be Watching You"   
"We all float down here"
"All Work and No Play Makes Jack a Dull Boy"

Of course, I am always open to suggestions.


Otherwise, I am not going to rock the boat on the toy collection.   I figure at some point, the issue of my practicing flamenco footwork for 30-minute stretches is going to come up.   Or my singing for 30-minute stretches.   I like to choose my battles.


Yup. I got it at Goodwill.



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I started shopping at the local Goodwill last year, when I needed to find props and costume pieces for a show.   Since then, I have found so many fantastic things at this particular GW, it's just ridiculous.   And I admit it, this GW has become my treasure-hunting habit.   

Last week, I was looking through racks of dresses, when I noted a full-length, one-shoulder BCBG maxi dress.   I considered it for a moment, then shrugged, and kept going.   Two days later, this post appeared on one of my favorite blogs, Sisters in Black Frocks.

So of course, all I could think about was going back to see if the dress was still there.    I stopped by this morning because I needed a costume piece for my acting class, and lo!   The dress was still there.   And it is mine, precious, mine.

Let me take a moment and point out the obvious:  I take selfies.   Sure, I could wait for JC to get home, and dig out his posh camera with the four-figure lens, and then have him tell me to just wander around, and then tell me I'm too stiff.   Or, for a fraction of the time and quality, you can get the general idea with one of my blurred selfies.

Also, wow.   I need to go over the mirrors again.   I swear, I just did them in, like, January.   Yeesh.

The dress is a thin jersey, and in person, doesn't look nearly so formal.   I need to have the top taken in, the length shortened, and I also need to wear a strapless bra (I tried to cleverly hide the bra strap with my hair).

Also, I need to get off my can, diet down, and get rid of the last two weeks of post-show self-indulgent laziness.   I have a wedding to attend in two weeks, and there is a pale pink vintage Versace dress that I am determined is going to fit over my ass.




Blurred.   I have a shaky trigger finger.  But you get the idea.





Speaking of Goodwill treasures, here is a purse I found there last week.   $15.91, and in pristine condition.   Normally, I am not a fan of Coach, at all.   In North Georgia, every woman my mother's age is walking around with a metallic jacquard logo bag, and it's usually accompanied by bad footwear, and too-long toenails painted some obnoxious color that shouldn't be allowed outside South Florida.  

Maybe it's the old Italian woman of my soul, but I saw this bag and really really really liked it.   The lens really picked up the logo, but in person it is far more subtle.   And the detailing on this bag is beautiful.









Four Closets, Three Armoires, Two Condos.... and One Hoarder Room.



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Now that WONDERLAND has wrapped, my music room looks like an episode of "Hoarders" - at about the 25-minute mark.   You can see parts of the floor, but the amount of stuff left is still horrifying....
We had to do an unexpected fast load-out of the show right after our closing performance (we got everything except the backdrop and furniture loaded into cars in about 30 minutes), and all of it - ALL OF IT - is at my place.   Costumes, accessories, wigs, props, furniture, backdrop.

And like the Cat in the Hat, what started out as a small pink bathtub ring, is rapidly becoming pink snow EVERYWHERE.

Here is what I hope to get done in the next month:
  • Set pieces, furniture, and props are going to a storage 'facility' (friend's garage)
  • Costumes and accessories laundered, sorted, and catalogued
  • Costumes and accessories from previous shows need to be sorted and catalogued
  • I need to finish listing a bunch of clothing and DVDs on eBay.
  • I am still culling clothing from my existing wardrobe.


All of this is taking place across four closets, three armoires, and two condos....

  
The armoire contains lingerie and undergarments, my swimwear capsule, dance and loungewear, some of JC's things, belts, packaged hosiery, and my jewelry box.





I tossed out all undergarments that didn't fit, or were faded or worn-looking.  It has been a fun week, wearing all my pretty things.

Having finished with the armoire, I tackled the closet.  It now contains my fall and winter wardrobe, a few seasonless pieces, plus hanging lingerie pieces.     The bulk of my summer wardrobe is at JC's, because I spend the bulk of my time there.


The wallpaper inside the closet is a little bit of awful, but I ascribe to The Donald's philosophy that a renter should not put money into someone else's property.   I would rather have the ivy leaves and put my money towards other things. 

I am waiting for the right occasion for that rubber chicken purse.


Once I got these shoes out of the boxes, (last week), I have worn a different pair nearly every day.   Out of sight, out of mind.   I have since unearthed a pair of Givenchy booties, and some other boots (they were hidden away at the boyfriend's).   I don't expect I will wear them until late September.   It is too hot in Atlanta.


One armoire + two of these hanging sorters replaces a huge dresser and tallboy the ex took in the divorce.   


I let JC park a couple pairs of his sneakers.

I am amazed at just how much fits in this closet.

I included this photo, because those two hat boxes contain stockings and tights, sorted by special occasion, versus everyday.

I still own a lot of clothing and shoes.   Too many clothes and shoes - but I love them all.   I culled a lot of stuff, but I did sneak a few items back in.  Once I finish the greater task of getting all the theatre stuff catalogued and squared away, I am going to return to this closet, and start curating like a boss.



************************************************************


And here is your special bonus look at my Hoarders room.   The yoga mat was not actually part of the show process, nor was my flamenco skirt, crumpled up in the foreground.



        

Yes, yes, yes... I know....



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It has been a very long time since I have written anything - here.   Believe me when I say I have written about two hundred posts for this blog... in my head.

So what have I been doing since my last post?   Theatre, theatre, and more theatre!   Calo' Theatre, to be precise!   We (Malita and I) have written, choreographed, and produced three full-length original musical shows in the span of two years.   This is a rehearsal photo of our latest, WONDERLAND, which premiered May 17.   It is a flamenco adapation of "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland", and "Through the Looking Glass".   Our website is somewhat under construction at the moment, as yours truly, the non-techie, figures out how to make changes and additions to a real website.    So for now, I will be posting additional photos on our blogger site.




The show is concluded, but we plan to re-stage it next year.   This show really has been a pivotal point in our company's development - and personally, it has been a dream come true!

Washing Machine.... or Time Machine???



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I am probably a douchebag.    After an all-out, Mr. Toad-like, no-holds-barred mad spree at the local consignment shop, I loaded up a full load of colored clothing into my parents' front-loading LE washer.   Cycle finished, and I put it in the dryer.    Now, in a rare-ish moment of douchebaggery, I put two white tops into the washer, set it to 'gentle', and 'low-soil', where it was supposed to be done in 28 minutes.     So yes.   I am, in fact, running an entire washload, for two pieces of clothing.    Because I want to wear one of the tops tomorrow, and everything that is left for whites, has Boston Terrier hair all over it.    Washing clothes with dog-towels sort of makes the washing pointless.

You can blame me for global warming if you like, but Boston Terrier hair = super-itchy me.

So.   When I went to use the dryer, I found it already occupied with a full load of damp towels and clothing belonging to my parents.   So I re-ran the dryer.    And waited.   And waited.   And finally I pulled everything out to fold it....

I always do that when I empty a dryer and put my stuff in.   It always made me feel like less of a douchebag in college, when I wanted the dryer, but someone had left their stuff in it.    (For some reason, I am not quite fully able to accept that the greater part of the douchebaggery could and should be assigned to the person who is tying up a perfectly good dryer with laundry that is already finished.   Obviously my parents are exempt from this, as it is their house, and their dryer.)

When I unloaded the dryer... there was 18 minutes left on those two tops.    I folded all the dry clothes, sorted them, re-loaded them into the laundry basket put it on the kitchen table (so that the aforementioned Boston Terriers cannot make themselves a clean, freshly-warmed bed of finished laundry), poured myself a glass of water, took a benadryl (did I mention Boston Terrier hair?), and checked on the washing machine.

17 minutes left.

Clearly this early-generation front-loading LE washer knows a few tricks about space-time, important information that was not conveyed to later models, including JC's.   

And speaking of time...  I really do believe that - despite how closely I resemble both of my parents - that I was, in fact, switched at birth.    Or else I am a pod-person, and the original me was abducted and cloned by aliens, and I am, in fact, the replacement me.


I say this, because I, the person who adores beautiful clothing and lovely underpinnings, just folded my parents' underwear, and I never saw anything more pitiful.    The whites were pinky-grey and the colors looked like the colors FLDS women wear.    Sad, overstretched elastic.    I think the homeless people on Ellis Street would turn their nose up at these and say 'no thanks, I'll just keep going commando'.   And I shall not speak of the socks, except to say this:  if socks are supposed to protect your heels from blisters, and keep your toes warm, these have failed grandly on both counts.




Captain von Trapp: It's the dress. You'll have to put on another one before you meet the children.


Maria: But I don't have another one. When we entered the abbey our worldly clothes were given to the poor.
 
 


Captain von Trapp: What about this one?  

Maria: The poor didn't want this one. 


I have taken note of sizes, and when I get back to the ATL, I am going to do some shopping and mailing.  I cannot let my parents run amok in boxcar-hobo underpinnings.
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