Just Fanning the Flames of Banker Hatred

Capitalism, sure. Why not?
Unbridled capitalism? In the best of cases, we are taken for suckers; and in the worst, people lose their jobs, their homes, their health insurance, their savings and these motherfuckers continue to roam the Earth unscathed.
It's not right.
And if you want to get your outrage on, read this. The government in cahoots with Goldman Sachs. Hank Paulson and Timothy Geithner, just helping their pals from their powerful perch in the government, and screw everybody else, and by that I mean everybody. The entire world.
The best part it's all those hillbillies who get creamed by the bankers, all those foreclosed people in the red states, that are afraid of liberals.

WOW! now that's what I call coming out!

It's good to be the King....even for just a day. Thanks everyone for stopping by for a visit. Time for this puss cat to get cozy and go nighty. I wish you all a warm and peaceful evening. Tomorrow is just that, another day.
night night.
...and this wasn't a half hearted twatter, just a quicky from a sleepy boy.
Fluff

Let's get outta there! NOW!

Colonel Reese, an American adviser in Iraq, is saying in no uncertain terms, (blunt is how the Times puts it) that it is time to say Adios amigous! and leave Iraq.
Hey, not a moment too soon! What took you so long?
His memo makes for great reading, even though it has the tone of a superior being who has finally ran out of patience with the pesky, stubborn natives. That is, the tone of a colonialist from the 19th century.
In a nutshell: we can't change their ways and we are not welcome anymore, plus they're bleeding us to death.
He says, let's declare victory and call it a day. I have a problem with the victory part, because it don't look like no victory to me, but just call it what you please, and let's vamoose.
Why do Americans insist that other people are going to abandon their culture and their entrenched ways and embrace, digest, and ape a totally different culture in a matter of months? Is this the height of naiveté or arrogance, or both? We can't even change our own culture HERE.
The US invades and occupies a country under false pretenses. This country is ruled by a truly evil bastard whose only way to keep the ethnic chaos in check is through a reign of utter terror. This is a deeply abused and traumatized country, but Americans think that they will "liberate" it and all of a sudden the grateful Iraqis, who would not know democracy or freedom if it bit them in the ass, have not known it and will not know it for the next thousand years, are going to all start acting like Thomas Jefferson. Instead, they start a massive bloodbath against themselves and the occupying forces.
We cannot invade a country over false pretenses, because of sheer greed and then pretend we were there to save it. And who should be held accountable for this criminal mess? To the gallows!

To clean up the mess we are leaving behind would probably require at least 50 years and too much money to count, neither of which we can afford. As many commenters say, let's bring the troops back and use the gazillions we are wasting over there for better things at home; i.e, single payer healthcare.

I quote Mr. Byron Jones from Pennsylvania:

...we spend trillions of dollars for stupid "regime changes" aka Vietnam, Nicaragua, Iraq, Afghanistan, etc. without so much as flinching. Saving lives and providing affordable medical care for our own citizens, well, that is something entirely different. Can anyone explain the logic? In other words, you can use my tax dollars to kill someone I don't know, but God forbid that you use my tax dollars to help my neighbor obtain affordable health insurance!

Bring the troops home NOW.

Siesta Time!

The NYT has an article on napping today.

There was an implication of guilt to be felt for taking naps, even as science and common sense dictate that napping is super good for you.
Americans seriously need to chill out with their freaking work ethic. Live a little.

Now, naps are super good for YOU. For me, they are wonderful, but I am forbidden by friends and loved ones to overly indulge in them. This is what happens: If it's a power nap, my foul mood will be mercifully short. But if it's one of those naps of which you have trouble waking up, I become a monster. You know the feeling: you try to wake up and your body feels like poured concrete and you just can't open your eyes. The foul mood that follows renders me borderline sociopathic.
When my foul mood finally lifts (takes from 10 to 30 minutes, depending on the length of the nap), I feel delightfully alert and refreshed. And then I can't go to sleep at night. While everybody is dead tired, I wanna go dancing. Hence the prohibition against me napping.
(I do it anyway).

When I used to work full time, I used to come back from lunch and I would start dozing off so bad (particularly after sushi), that I would cover my forehead with a hand, look down and pretend to be absorbed in fascinating reading material. Sometimes I would turn the chair around with my back to the door, and take a tiny little nap. Instead of pool tables, advertising agencies should have napping pods.

Now that I work from home, when I get this drowsy feeling, I just hit the sack for (hopefully) half an hour. I find that it helps me concentrate much better. But my nearest and dearest don't endorse it.

Is Black Barbie in Italian Vogue Tokenism?

...or is it a little bit more than that? Franca Sozzani and posse are the steamrollers of inclusivism.
Last years Italian Vogue issue was filled with the audacity of Blackness. The issue celebrated the beauty and diversity of black models to the exclusion of the great white wave. It was a ground breaker and for a couple of weeks even a ground sweller. Other prominent fashion magazines including American Vogue had to stop and think(for a hot minute) about the why and why not of using models of color on their pages and why most designers were not using these girls and guys on their runways. It was a very provocative moment for lots of people including readers to examine this pervasive phenomenon. Talks, forums , discussions occurred thanks to stalwarts of the industry like Bethann Hardison. As a black cat, I was pretty intrigued with the reasons or lack thereof for this insidious white-out that has changed the face of international fashion.
As a kitten in the 80's and one that prowled the shows and couture houses of Paris, Black models ruled the seas. Saint Laurent, Givenchy , Bohan at Dior and Valentino were filling the runways with these exceptional models. Then it just sort of stopped. we were hot and then suddenly not.
The displacement was originally a choice of Asian beauties, then it faded to white. It was so subtle then that it was hard to point the finger or even to put one's finger on it. It's very clear now.
With last years issue Sozzani struck a very loud dissonant chord. The mute pedal seemed to follow it a bit too quickly and that was that. Diversity flickered on a few runways , but only superstar black models were invited to the feast. This time those girls who filled the pages last year have been replaced with Black Barbies...... A clever play on subjects, but ultimately a flaccid follow up to an idea/topic whose time is very much overdue. Did the magazine decide Black Barbie's rates were more in keeping with the recession? Was everybody else too busy not getting work? Or was it just an amusing way of diminishing the actual message?
With this country's first African American President and First family the timing for an issue peopled with dolls whose plastic bodies are "darkened" with much the same features of their more famous fore bearers falls a bit flat. It smacks of tokenism, not what we all used to use to ride the subway, but a tepid response to a world which has changed dramatically since the last issue.
I'm a little disappointed that Franca and co. couldn't have expanded more on the trail they started to blaze. Europe has historically been more receptive to people of color than the U.S.of A. That is what stymies me now.
Yes, it's nice they did it again, but put the energy and money where it's better invested. Give these models the job, and let the dolls be a clever sidebar. They were very chic, very cleverly styled and I enjoyed the mini spectacle. But it was a snack with one piece of lettuce. Hardly enough to nourish or make one ask," What was that delicious meal?"
Tokenism is just that. A tidbit tossed in order not to upset the status quo but just enough to say don't look at us, we're color blind....Black models are the same as non Black models, only they have a hell of a lot harder time making a career of it. The same goes for so many other models and people in the fashion industry who happen to be un -white.

Vellithirai.com presents Sexy, Slim and Refreshing ILEANA

And no, it's not refreshing if you can't speak English while in office, or while running away from it.

I've had it with the people who think that inarticulateness in politics is charming and refreshing.
Go read a fucking book!
And I am always amazed that the people who champion this ignoramus are the same people who get all bent out of shape when immigrants don't speak the King's English. For crying out loud. At least they are immigrants. They already speak one language. And they are not the governor of anything.
Having said this, the edited version of Palin's resignation speech is very much fun and a good grammar lesson to boot.
Thanks to Ethan for posting in FB!

P.S.: And yes, the "liberal" media laughs at you, because you are laughable. You fully deserve the excoriation.

Bill Kristol is a Putz

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Bill Kristol
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Joke of the Day

When even a Republican who can purportedly edit a magazine insists on aligning himself with the fringe, that means truly that all of the Republican party now officially belongs in a sideshow. They are as vulgar and as disturbing as a freakshow, but with all due respect to actual freaks, unfortunately not as innocuous. Their appetite for self-destruction is matched by their appetite for the destruction of the social and moral fabric of this country.
Kristol insists, against all evidence (the latest being the inscrutable farewell "poem" to Alaska), that Sarah Palin is just great. That she is fit for office. Both of them should be institutionalized and the key thrown away.



He insists, if I remember this correctly, because he is one of the people who convinced her to run with McCain. If people could be sued for dangerous irresponsibility, we'd be calling a class action suit against him. But he laughs it off. He thinks it's provocative. Probably he will soon be shilling one book or another. It's the height of cynicism and of condescension. He should stop pretending he is an intellectual and be Rush Limbaugh's sidekick. That's where he actually belongs.
So I don't know why it astounds people when Kristol spews incongruous views on healthcare on The Daily Show, views almost even more stupid than his unfathomable support for Palin. Like saying that the American people do not deserve the same level of healthcare than our soldiers get from the VA, which apparently is the best public health service in the country. (Which led him to admit that the government is indeed capable of furnishing us taxpayers with excellent healthcare).
Or like saying that the VA healthcare is expensive and then quickly correcting himself, because what could be more evil and more callous than counting beans when it comes to the health of the veterans? But counting beans on the health over the rest of the country is fine. We have been deemed undeserving and need to be punished for it by none other than insurance companies.
The man is entitled to his opinion on healthcare, which apparently to these people is like shopping for underwear. But I think his support for Sarah Palin is more dangerous.
In the end, if there is a silver lining, is that they keep running themselves into the ground.

This explains it better

Hendrik Hertzberg in The New Yorker on the real reasons why we will never get anything done in this country in the way of real reform.
I feel like tearing my hair out.

Annals of Sportsmanship

Contador and Armstrong: both are losers.
How unsportsmanlike, stupid and ungracious.

Fear is your best friend

Great article in the Times about intuition and how it can save lives in battle.
One would have thought it obvious, but now that they are mapping the brain they can see how this works physically.
I'm reproducing parts of the comment posted by one Tom Colton, an ex-soldier. I don't know if it's true, but it is quite compelling:

Lots of infantry platoons have a guy who can sense an ambush. The keys to knowing if you should rely on him are: Success. Does he keep you alive on a regular basis? And adjustment. Is he squared away, or a neurotic? If the latter, then his senses may be more often than not, skewed...
And something else was noted frequently in Vietnam by those who conducted combat actuarial studies:
In a firefight, Jocks are the first ones usually killed, because they never learned about fear during sports.
Thugs and Gangstas get killed next, because they have an inflated idea of their prowess.
Then the Bullies buy the farm while trying for the first time to move beyond their real cowardice.
And finally: In Combat-The four eyed pencil necked geeks rule, because they work as a team, follow orders, feel responsible for and protective of the other guys in their rifle squad and and most importantly-they paid attention during training. They advance thru their fear, surmount real terror and commit great acts of selfless heroism. And they almost never get a medal.
This country is full of dopey lookin' old guys who once confronted stark terror in extreme danger and carried out great acts of valor and sacrifice against armed enemies engaged with them in a combat zone. Most of these guys are never honored at the time and their families will most likely never know. Instead, we worship phoney war heroes like Bob Kerrey, John Kerry and John McCain who milk their hero status for power, wealth, trophy wives and adulation.
I was never a hero, but I saw regular guys do things that no Bruce Lee, Bruce Willis, Chuck Norris, Steven Segal, nor Arnold Schwarzenegger, or any other phoney Hollywood hero would ever do. Hunches about danger and escaping from it is baloney. Hunches about danger and fighting thru it to complete your mission are what really counts..."I am the Infantry... Queen of Battle...Follow ME!

As I think Mr. Colton is saying, we are the only country on Earth with an inflated and deeply distorted sense of heroism, which among other things is responsible for bullshit like saying "Mission Accomplished" at the beginning of an endless, tragic war. If we were more respectful of fear, perhaps we would not be in this predicament right now. Too much fear can of course be cowardly and paralyzing, but lack of fear is arrogance and hubris.

We Are So Backwards

...when it comes to healthcare reform. It is immensely frustrating and really sad.
This is the country of idiotic selfishness.

Already, the group of six (senators who are going to decide our fates) has tossed aside the idea of a government-run insurance plan that would compete with private insurers, which the president supports but Republicans said was a deal-breaker.
DO THEY HAVE THE VOTES TO BREAK A DEAL? WHY EXACTLY DO WE NEED THEIR APPROVAL? AND DON'T GET ME STARTED ON THE BLUE DOGS. TRAITORS. ASSHOLES.

Instead, they are proposing a network of private, nonprofit cooperatives. THIS DRIVES ME CRAZY.

They have also dismissed the House Democratic plan to pay for the bill’s roughly $1 trillion, 10-year cost partly with an income surtax on high earners.

The three Republicans have insisted that any new taxes come from within the health care arena. As one option, Democrats have proposed taxing high-end insurance plans with values exceeding $25,000.

The Senate group also seems prepared to drop a requirement, included in other versions of the legislation, that employers offer coverage to their workers.

In other words, it's not real reform and it's not true reform and it's not universal coverage.

Mademoiselle.

I've just read the latest book on Chanel: Coco Chanel Summer 62. What a beautifully crafted and intimate portrait of the designer at the height of her powers. It's a very moving journal of sorts of a day in the life of the Couturier.
The shock of it is the joy and seriousness of the woman. We all know about her sharper edges . The steely determination, the tough broad exterior/interior, but have rarely been given the opportunity to see the person capable of obvious generosity of spirit and just plain joy. This
beautiful chronicle of the finishing touches to a spring collection complete with images of fitting , cheer leading , moments of contemplation are all shot by Douglas Kirkland.
He manages to take his camera and penetrate the veil that surrounds her. The warmth and love of her craft, her intimacy with the models of her Cabine are all crystallized in these images. It makes one want to be a fly on the wall just to witness magic in the making. I've often wanted to see our own Jackie Rogers, a fabulous designer in her own right, in the early stage of her experience in fashion. So many times I've listened to Jackie talk about the old days with Chanel, but have never seen pictures from this fabled time. Douglas has caught Jackie in this book on several occasions before this beautiful defile. Jackie sparkles. Impossibly chic along with others and with such allure. I was incredibly touched to have a window from a time long passed to see her in her youthful glory.
This book is a love letter to a woman who swam against a changing tide like an Olympian. Nine more years would pass and she would no longer be the arbiter of a style whose time had ended. The onslaught of the new guard would emerge and take away the focus and change the worlds eyes forever. The legacy that she left is in its fullest most vibrant glory in this book. I loved every page,every expression and learned just from looking what makes a great designer. The rigor and unwavering commitment she shows for what she sees as correct is splashed through each and every image. Yes, it's a world that no longer exists. You see Baron and Baroness de Rothschild with a sleek young Lee Radziwill in the audience and others who played major roles in high culture then. The appreciation and understanding of what constitutes the art of fashion is so palpable.
There is a lesson in this. I think the lesson is a commitment to giving every ounce of one's soul to making clothes the best they can be. Fit, proportion and artistry can never be traded for sleight of hand. We all must remember that when designing any collection. The times may be different as is the playing field, but the game remains very much the same.

photo by Douglas Kirkland

Department of Veteran Affairs

Why doesn't the US Army take care of its veterans?
This breaks my heart.

Department of Jaw Dropping

There seems to be an inexhaustible supply of human nastiness.
Can be found on the front page of the paper every day.

Library of Congress Archive

The Library of Congress has a wonderful prints and photographs site that is full of surprising images including this Japanese woodblock print. Click here to see the search page: http://lcweb2.loc.gov/pp/pphome.html I think I found this by searching for the word sewing. Once the hits come up click on the button Preview Images.

Guacamole Recipe

I'm doing this for the edification of mankind and because of popular demand. Also to set a couple of things straight about guacamole, which in this country has withstood enough abuse.
I don't have a molcajete (a mortar made of volcanic stone), and probably neither do you. I smash the stuff with a fork.

• a small onion, coarsely chopped
• 1 or 2 fresh serrano or jalapeño peppers, seeds taken out and deveined (this makes them milder), coarsely chopped. To deseed and devein, cut the chile lengthwise and take the seeds out with the tip of the knife. The vein is the white skin that holds the seeds. Take that out with a knife. Discard the stem. Remember not to rub your eyes after handling chiles with your bare hands. It will sting like a mother.
• about a cup of fresh cilantro
You may want to reserve some finely chopped onion for crunch and cilantro for decoration.
• a small tomato
• 5 ripe black/Mexican avocados (buy them at least 4 days in advance if they are hard as rocks).
• salt

In a blender, put the onion, the cilantro, the chile, a little water and salt and grind it into a slightly coarse paste.

Core and take the seeds out of the tomato and chop finely. Set aside.

Guacamole needs to be prepared right before serving. So right before you intend to serve it, put the onion, cilantro and chili paste in a serving bowl. Cut the avocados in half and scoop out the meat into the bowl, adding the avocado pits into the bowl. Mash with a fork and fold and mix well. Add some extra chopped onion and cilantro, if you want and the chopped tomatoes. Mix well. Add salt to taste (fleur de sel is a very nice touch). Leave the pits in. This helps postpone the avocados turning black.

No limes, no oil, no garlic and if you don't want me ordering a fatwa on you, NO CUMIN.

Eat immediately with tortilla chips. Guacamole is also fabulous as a spread for sandwiches, on top of tacos, quesadillas, or as a side dish to some nice carne asada or roast chicken.

Enjoy!

Liz Cheney Defends Birthers On Larry King (VIDEO)

Daughter of Satan.
Read the Article at HuffingtonPost

Early Quilt Design

I recently received a note from the Honey Barn, a shop in Iowa, wanting information about quilt patterns that would have been in use during the Revolutionary War. It's a question I've been interested in lately. I gave her the references below about medallion quilts. Above are two medallion quilts from Cynthia Collier.

The earliest patchwork quilts in America only date to the 1780s, which is still the Revolutionary Era. Block-style quilts were rare and most quilts are made in the medallion format. On my web site on the Quilt History page I deal with early quilts at the bottom of the page. I have links to some of the earliest dated quilts and then a few patterns for Jane Austen era needlework. Click here:
http://www.siputflash.com/faqs2.aspx

In my book America's Printed Fabrics: 1770-1890 I have a section on the "Fabric of the Revolution" with a pattern for an early medallion. And I do an e-Club for C&T Publishing this year with monthly chapters about early quilt fabric and style (1780-1830) plus a pattern for a medallion border for a period look. Click here: http://www.cluesinthecalico.com/

And one last medallion from Jenifer Dick who used the fabric she hand dyes to great effect. Above the finished quilt; below the center in progress.

Goldman Sachs Memo

For a minute there, I thought it was for reals.
After all, these people are capable of anything.

A Harpe un a Shande

As I said: pious, personal relationships with God are not a guarantee of human decency.
That is true of all religions.
What are rabbis doing, of all people, laundering corruption money for a fee in Jersey?
WTF?
Many "pious" people use religion as a con. The aura of sanctity makes it easier for them to be immoral, because most people still believe that religion is an immediate and reliable indicator of virtue.
It is not.
It's like suicide bombers that dress like pregnant women. Nobody would suspect a pregnant woman of carrying a bomb. Same goes for these bozos. They reason that nobody would suspect a rabbi from laundering money.
Well, I would and I do. Just as I suspect televangelists from conning people and stealing money in the name of the Lord.

One can be moral and decent and upstanding without religion.
The more people realize this fact, the better.

Today, I heard a fascinating interview with Sacha Baron Cohen on NPR (thanks Joshua!) about how he does what he does. He was saying that in that remarkable scene in Borat at a fundamentalist church where they were trying to save him, they were crowding him and shaking his arms to make it look like he was in trance and instructing him to speak in tongues.

Religious con artists know that "there's a sucker born every minute".

Unintended Consequences of Having a Black President:

All the nutjobs come out of the woodwork; in hysterics to boot.
The good faith, the reacquisition of stature in the world, the idea that the United States is a less racist country than others, and sort of a flashlight unto the nations; our wonderful Obamanian romance with fantasy was to be short lived.
Because now some sore losers are deeply afraid that our country is not a right wing nutjobland. I guess when changes like these happen, the extremists hunker down and become even more so. These people never learn anything.
They just can't stand it. Ignorant, stupid, God-fearing crackers.
As Roland Martin, a CNN commentator said, the people who claim Barack Obama is not American are exactly like Holocaust deniers. Exactly as insane, as nefarious, as sinister, as repulsive and as dangerous. Martin tries to condescend to them by making fun of them. But they are not funny. They are disgusting. And they should be thoroughly repudiated.
Obama has no reason to be showing anybody his birth certificate. This is offensive and outrageous.
It stands to reason that if he had been born somewhere else, like the Governator, he would not have been able to run for President, because he could not have won. Period.

HBO showed a documentary yesterday about a school in a town in Mississippi that in 2008 was still planning to have a segregated prom night. The school was integrated. The kids, 70% black and 30% white, went to school together every day. But they had a black prom and a white prom. Morgan Freeman, who was born there and lives in Mississippi, promised to pay for the prom if the kids agreed to integrate it. It turns out that most of the kids were okay with that. It was the white parents who resisted. Now, when you hear that, you imagine 75 year-old KKKers lynching negroes. But if you do the math, these parents are only in their late thirties, early forties tops, perhaps they're even younger than that. That is, like me, they were children at the time of the Civil Rights movement. There is no reason on earth why they should still hold attitudes prevalent from Slavery. It is appalling.
Most of the kids react to racism as if it was something deeply embarrassing to them, but that's where they live and that's the way it goes. It's actually pretty sad. A white kid is afraid to show his face on TV, his parents are so racist. A white girl cannot get a job in town because she is friends with a black guy and because she is not going to the white prom. On the other hand, a black honor student is convinced she was cheated out of being a valedictorian because she is black. It never ends.
But never fear. God is never far from these kinds of hellholes. In this town everybody prays for everything at all times. Even though this is a public school, there are prayers at the prom.
Newsflash: invoking God is no guarantee of human decency, people (in my view, it's usually quite the contrary).

Then comes the arrest of Henry Louis Gates.
So it seems that our starry eyed, media induced "postracial society" was to be short lived.
Not surprisingly, because it is not true.
We've come a long way and yet we are still too far behind.

You know what I like? Men!

Besides men, I love menswear. It's fun to be a guy these days and have so many cool clothes to choose from. The old rules of what goes with what and the mix of serious and fun make getting dressed an event, again. One collection I've fallen hard for goes by the name of Duckie Brown.
It's relatively new and is designed and owned by 2 very cool guys: Daniel Silver and Steven Cox.
This collection has all the elements a complete wardrobe requires. From an incredibly smart trench in what appears to be black patent, rich , elegant and generous scarves with embroidery are absolutely ubiquitous.An elegantly cut tweed jacket over fluid trousers with a fabulously generous scarf was beyond classic cool, it was worth foregoing the rent payment. One pair of ORANGE pants under an embroidered and quilted parka was the last word in sport luxe. The overall pallette is dark: browns, greys, blacks and that unexpected blast of orange gives the collection muscle.
Muscle is an important metaphor for what David and Steven infuse in their work. I like men....not tweens or boys, and I certainly don't want to dress like a kid. The alchemy in this collection are elements that might be viewed as super cool and super young but are achieved in a measured , mature way. Perhaps it's the quality of the workmanship and the richness of the fabrics which make these clothes appropriate for grown ups like me as well as the hipster who lives upstairs.
When I viewed the Fall 09 collection I saw at least 20 looks that I wanted to possess. Not 20 I liked , but 20 I wanted to wear.Not inconsiderable when there were 24 exits to the show.... That's unusual for me. Not that I'm so hard to dress or please, but that they are so on target with the times and with an aesthetic that is both of the moment and timeless. Duckie Brown is sold at Barneys on the 3rd floor, ALL 8 Scoop stores around the country, Odin and Kessner,Revolve in Los Angeles, 3 stores in Tokyo,1 in Moscow and Vakko in Istanbul. These guys get around.....
There is a spirit to to the collection that is very positive, inclusive and firmly rooted in the world we live in.Inclusive in the sense that you don't have to be an urban warrior to appreciate their work. One would look just as right in Omaha as in London , Milan,Tokyo, Istanbul or NYC. Check out their website and go to the stores that carry them. And shop!
We all need something to treasure and the rainbows' end is at Duckie Brown.

There's a glimmer of hope for Christian Lacroix....

I was thrilled to read that a company is seriously bidding to rescue Lacroix. That is some of the best news all week,all month, actually. If this is a company that gives him a feeling of comfort and support , then AMEN! Great things happen for us all, we just need to learn the art of patience. That virtue is in short supply when things are firing at us like atoms in an atom splitter. Most would react with panic. I would naturally duck and run. But the last 8 months have taught me and many others of us that patience is all we have to fall back on. Trying to make things happen and change to our liking has the effect of creating less of what we want and more of what we don't.
Things appear to be looking up in a very subtle if not somewhat sluggish pace. Change is the constant now. Change is the one thing we can definitely put our money on. So many of my friends and contemporaries are going through huge changes which none of us ever envisioned. But with that comes nothing but new opportunities and choices that will move us all forward. This uncomfortable evolution will probably look like a blessing from the other side. I'm embracing it and am very excited for the new which is around the corner.
As long as we do our best to keep an ordered house and look ahead with wide open eyes, we're bound to see some pretty fantastic opportunities with each of our names on them.
Try looking ahead and up and fight the urge to look at the ground, or you just might walk right past that door that stands wide open beckoning you in.

Quilters Hall of Fame

Quilt researcher extraordinaire Merikay Waldvogel was inducted into the Quilters' Hall of Fame in Marion, Indiana, last week. She curated an exhibit and gave several talks. The photos show her gallery Walk-Through in which she talked about quilts in her collection.

Birds Eye View of the Chicago World's Fair

Milky Way Pineapple quilt with faux patchwork back

The fantastic flowers are from her friend Susan Salser who asked the florist to make an Indiana bouquet with the flowers and fruit in the Indiana Wreath quilt pattern.


This Indiana Wreath quilt is by Susan's grandmother Mary Gasperik.
See more about Mary Gasperik by clicking here:

http://www.quiltindex.org/gasperik.php

See another version of the Indiana Wreath by clicking here:
http://cindysantiquequilts.com/dynapage/IP409.htm

And for more about Merikay:
http://www.quiltershalloffame.net/Waldvogel.html

Eating Disorders and their Discontents

The New York Times' food critic, Frank Bruni, is publishing a memoir about his childhood bulimia. The book is excerpted in last Sunday's magazine. I enjoy reading Mr. Bruni's restaurant reviews. I enjoy knowing that there are people out there who, like me, love food. I'm sorry to hear that what he does for a living is related to an eating disorder. It's kind of a killjoy.
At least he parlayed it into an enjoyable occupation. I doubt that many bulimics end up being restaurant critics or chefs de cuisine. Some commenters (one commenter actually) wondered if this was not T.M.I. But in this country, unless Dick Cheney has something to do with it, there is no such thing as too much information. Everybody else is happy to share their most intimate miseries with the world. It's not Mr. Bruni's fault. America is a culture of the confessional. The public laps it up.
We have literary memoirs, we have books such as this one, and we have an embarrassment of riches when it comes to people making asses of themselves on TV. For a country that can seem so callous in so many ways, (I'm not paying taxes, fuck the immigrants, screw you and your communist healthcare plan) Americans are surprisingly mawkish and empathetic when it comes to the individual tale of woe. Whoever spills the beans (I was an addict, a shoplifter, an anorexic, an alcoholic, a compulsive shopper, a fugitive from a chain gang, etc) is considered some sort of brave creature just for doing so.
Bruni's article was interesting, but the comments section was fascinating. Apparently, everybody in this country has, had or will have an eating disorder or issues with food. All kinds of reasons are bandied about, from lack of self-esteem to genes, to bad parenting.
But the truth is, food is complicated.
Contrary to what some Americans think and what some energy bar companies would have you believe, food is not fuel. Food is comfort, culture, and civilization. If food was fuel, nobody would have an eating disorder. Cars don’t have eating disorders. Food is love, or its withholding. Food is emotional. Food is pleasure. But in this puritanical country it is viewed as something sinful and suspicious. It is also disrespected and degenerated into garbage (see Food, Inc.).

I have always thought that parents who berate their kids for being chubby and who instill premature fat obsessions in their kids are much more noxious than parents who show their children love by feeding them, even if it means placing too much emotional weight on what's for lunch (see: my mother).
When I was about 15, I was a day camp counselor and I will never forget a 7 year-old girl who was mortified about wearing a bathing suit. She was the only kid who had issues at meal time. She was a miserable kid, unable to enjoy herself at all, because her mother had been feeding her this nonsense that she was fat. She sounded like a 40 year old kvetch. It was unnatural for a child her age to be so obsessed with her body image. She was a little chubby, that’s all.
I was the opposite of Mr. Bruni, who was a prodigious eater as a child. I hated food. I had a mother and a grandmother who would have been happy to force feed me like a goose about to donate its liver to foie gras. They literally ran after me with plates and spoonfuls of food. And the more they tried to shove food on me, the more I resisted. I was a horrid, finicky, nasty eater. If my mom could see me now...
I only started really enjoying food as an adult, and I gained considerable weight. I have never been fat, buy I have been overweight.
Would I like to lose 10 to 15 pounds? You bet. Am I willing to deprive myself from the pleasure of eating? Not really. I try to stay away from desserts and fatty foods but I eat like a truck driver, and I need to feel satisfied. Nothing puts me in a worse mood than having a bad meal. So I'm thinking, if I am not willing to make the sacrifice, shut my trap and eat salad, I might as well start loving myself the way I am. Because what is untenable is to live, like so many of the people commenting on the Bruni story, eternally hating your body, and by extension, yourself.

Michele Hill's William Morris in Applique

Kelmscott Sampler by Michele Hill

I've posted several simple patterns for the intricate prints in my Moda collection The Morris Garden. Another option is to do something really complex in the spirit of William Morris's tapestry designs. Michele Hill's book William Morris in Applique is available in the U.S. from C&T Publishing.
See her blog at http://williammorrisandmichele.blogspot.com/

Several shops worldwide are kitting up her patterns. I'm linking you to Common Threads because they plan to use some of The Morris Garden to do her Kelmscott design. Click here: http://commonthreadsquilting.typepad.com/threads_from_common_threa/2009/04/william-morris-in-applique.html

And see the book at C&T Publishing. Click here and scroll down to the bottom of the page:
http://www.ctpub.com/productdetails.cfm?PC=1270

They Don't Make Them Like They Used To.

Walter Cronkite.
A real reporter, journalist and the best anchorman ever.
Just a reminder of how low we have fallen these days.

July 20, 1969

I remember it happened in the middle of the day. I remember all of a sudden the focus of attention was centered on the black and white TV we had in our apartment in Avenida Amsterdam in Colonia Condesa, Mexico City, Planet Earth. I remember my Mom being especially agitated, in a good way, and moved by the talent of the Americans, who could nail such a feat with precision and grace. We all sat down to watch TV in the middle of the day. The morning? 1 pm?
Who were we all? My mom, probably my baby sister Vili, who was 9 months old and seemed to have come from the moon herself (a sunny, ever smiling moonchild), probably our dear muchacha Lupe (the maid), maybe my tía Dora? My dad, either not going to work that day or coming home early to watch with us? I don't remember. I don't think my dad was overly impressed with the event. That is, I'm sure he was impressed but perhaps not convinced by its significance. I may be wrong, but this is my hunch.
My memory from 40 years ago is that we sat on the couch in front of the TV as if it was a talismanic object and there were black and white men talking to us in eloquent tones and then I think we saw astronauts bouncing and putting the American flag on the moon, which, strangely, did not sway in the breeze like flags tend to do. What I remember best is my mother, emotional, trying to convey to me, a 6 year old child, that this remarkable event needed to be pondered and admired and as a moment to remember in history, that I should not really expect this to happen on a daily basis from now on. But who knew? Who knew what could happen now that men could walk on the moon.

It's Rain on Your Parade Day

I know it's Friday and we all want to have fun, but today is a perfect day for outrage, brought to you by Goldman Sachs, and Geithner and Co. We are, as Paul Krugman says, being played for suckers by these people. Even evil capitalists are appalled! Bring the guillotine back, I say.

Obama is a Wimp: Cheney to the Gallows

He is not a wimp, as Cheney claims, because he is "soft" on terror. He is a wimp and a hypocrite and a disillusionment to those who voted him into office because he is soft on Cheney (and on real health care reform and on banks and their perks, but let's leave it at that).
Prosecute those responsible for breaking the law during the Bush Administration to the fullest extent of the law. Send these motherfuckers where they belong: behind bars.

I'm a Wise Latina, So What?

I understand her reasons (she wants to nail the thing), but I was disappointed in Sonia Sotomayor for saying that "A wise Latina" was the wrong choice of words. She is a wise Latina. What is wrong with this statement? She is a wise Latina in a milieu where there are not that many Latinos, wise or otherwise. Lay the fuck off!
In order to pass a Supreme Court confirmation, you basically need to pretend that you are not really who you are. You will not get confirmed if you are anything but white Wonder bread.
Justice Roberts pretended to be toothless and polite and now Sonia needs to pretend she is a white Republican chick from Omaha, for crying out loud.
Honestly, the hypocrisy and absurdity and stupidity of the political process in this country is getting to me (what took me so long, right?). Looking at the bunch of mostly white bozos questioning her it occurs to me we need a change of leadership in this country. We need younger, fresher, more colorful faces, more genders, too. It's not enough to have a black president. We need to change the peeps in Congress. Aren't you tired of seeing Orrin Hatch? How long has that guy been there? His botox is scary.
I just hope that the minute Sonia hits that bench, she lets it rip.

Prima Ballerina Enchilada

Darlings! Your ever expanding yours truly (in terms of both readership and girth) has joined something miraculous called the New York City Ballet Workout at her gym and she is en route (if she doesn't collapse of exhaustion or hurt any knees in the process) to become a regular Sylphide.
After one of these tough little classes, I'm hopeful I may finally lose the tamale shaped waist and become long, elegant and beautiful, like Anna Pavlova.
Seriously, this thing is genius, because it gives you a very complete workout to classical music with ballet technique although you don't really need to have done ballet class before. They also make you do abs, which when I try on my own it's mostly no more than 20 reps and I call it a month.
Just so you know, in my youth I did take ballet and modern dance, and jazz and whatnot. Today I am as limber as a concrete wall. However, between the music and the dance combinations, which are actual ballet coreographies, and all that port de bras, I feel, as María would say, pretty.
I am convinced this class is great because I sweat like a fish (this is in homage to Mr. Ex-Enchilada's dear Uncle Harry, who once said that someone smoked like a fish (?)).
We all engage in the fantasy that we are long and tall and beautiful, plus trying to learn the steps is a great mental workout as well.

Applause. Roses fall from the sky. Take a bow.

Bill Cunningham in the New York Times

A few months ago the New Yorker magazine featured Bill Cunningham who does the "On the Street" feature in the New York Times. I love "On the Street," a photo essay on New York fashion, and I had no idea that it has been done by the same man for the past 50 years. He has a terrific eye and can identify a trend in a few photos. Check out this link to the New York Times and watch his short essays in audio slide shows.

http://topics.nytimes.com/top/reference/timestopics/people/c/bill_cunningham/index.html
It's fun to know what they are doing in New York even if you would NEVER do it yourself in Dubuque.

Both fashion photos are from the Library of Congress webpage.

Boycott the Banks As Best You Can

It ain't easy, but someone's got to do it. The banking and credit industry is going to fight tooth and nail Obama's proposed Consumer Financial Protection Agency. They are already resorting to ugly tactics with innocent people like me. I get my latest credit card account from TD Bank Visa and I am charged $39 for a late fee (I was late for one day) and $7.80 of unspecified finance charges apparently related to me making a purchase with the stupid card. This beside their 3% charges on foreign purchases. So basically I'm paying these legalized criminals around $65 just because it suits them. I called them and threatened to cancel the card. Supposedly,they waived the late fee and the finance charge to keep me as a customer. I'll believe that when I see it in the next statement.
But this is what I'm going to do. I may cancel the card altogether once I have a zero balance or I will never use it again. Let them spend money sending me shit and let me keep a zero balance on it forever.
These people decided to upgrade everybody into a"Platinum" card that supposedly gives you rewards, although it is not clear what those are or from whom. In the meantime, if you bother to read the fine print, a sort of Brothers Karamazov in very, very small type and very, very intrincate legalese, you realize that they charge usurious charges for absolutely everything, from late fees, to interest rates, to charges they pull liberally out of their wazoo.
I have never paid interest on my Visa card. I only have it in case my Amex is not accepted somewhere.
Well, now I'm going to use it even less. Learned my lesson. From now on, when traveling abroad, I will use my ATM card to change money and try to use the AMEX for everything and pay cash for everything else. Fuck 'em.

This is war.

No Fiery Latinas, Thank You!

If you want to be confirmed to the Supreme Court apparently it is best not to be a Latina spitfire, like the bunch of white Republican old geezers insist that Sonia Sotomayor is, as if having passion, humor and smarts are a bad thing for a Supreme Court judge. So we love us the Latino fire in the dancing and in the food, but not so much in the Supreme Court? Why not?

Her steadiness was evident during questioning by Mr. Graham, who remarked Monday that she would be confirmed unless she suffered “a meltdown".

Can you imagine someone saying this to a man? As a woman, I'm mortally offended by these remarks.
Will the gringos ever tire from the same old, worn out stereotypes about Latinos (and women)?
Let her pass this stupid confirmation, and like Chief Justice Roberts and the rest of them really show what she's made of once she gets inside. This court urgently needs a tough, no nonsense, passionate mami from the Bronx.

Department of Jerks

Great, well deserved hatchet piece on racist, criminal sheriff and celebrity and publicity whore, Joe Arpaio in The New Yorker this week. This man is a narcissist, a psychopath and a liar in uniform. If he were on the other side, he'd be a gangster.
Arizonians love him because he targets and humiliates illegal immigrants instead of fighting crime. His abuses are costing these bozos millions of dollars in lawsuits. Serves them right.
My Mexican friends, try not to cross over via Maricopa county. There is plenty of border to choose from. Avoid this asshole like the plague. He is the plague.
President Obama should tell his Secretary of Homeland Security, Janet Napolitano, to get over her croniness to Arpaio and investigate him for civil rights abuses.

Last week another interesting profile of Angelo Mozillo and his coworkers at Countrywide. In short: a bunch of jerks with huge egos running the show.

Anyone tired of Type A Assholes running rampant, say I.

Go Sonia

Go Sonia, Go Sonia, Go Sonia!
Go Sonia's mom too.

Carbonara Blues

I have a recipe for authentic spaghetti Carbonara which has no cream. Just the raw eggs. But every time I make it, the egg and cheese mixture comes out too thick. It calls for three eggs and almost a cup of pecorino romano and parmiggiano reggiano cheeses. I think it may be too much cheese. Any ideas?

Stars on Point

The bolts of The Morris Garden fabric should be in the quilt shops any day now. If you are looking for pattern ideas I'd suggest a simple sawtooth star. Set it with alternate blocks of large-scale fabric and turn it on point. It's a great way to show off complex fabrics.

My friends have been making this quilt for years. They've traded print squares and traded stars (generally 10" finished stars). Here's a collage of a few. (Roseanne Smith at top left and bottom center & right, Judy Severson in the center, Jerrye VanLeer top right, Carol Gilham Jones, bottom left)

If you made stars that finish to 9" you could use a package of Moda's Layer Cakes (fabric precut to 10" squares) for the alternate squares.

It's also an authentic pattern for an early reproduction quilt to feature chintzes and toiles. Click on the links below to see three early versions from the International Quilt Study Center and Museum at the University of Nebraska Lincoln.

http://www.quiltstudy.org/includes/photos/quilt_database/large/1997_007_0065.jpg
http://www.quiltstudy.org/includes/photos/quilt_database/large/1997_007_0281.jpg
http://www.quiltstudy.org/includes/photos/quilt_database/large/2003_003_0239.jpg

Can Fashion survive the Couture?

I've asked myself the question this week having filled my plate with images from the Couture," is there room left for fashion?" Realistically, I know one can not exist or even survive without the other, but what becomes the more satisfying choice? Both arenas are filled with delicious morsels that satisfy and excite one's palate. Still, which is more nutritious?

You may be partial to Chanel and still have a sweet tooth for Marc Jacobs. Lanvin may send you to the moon but Lacroix is a one way ticket to heaven. Oscar can make your heart race but Dior will bring on a full blown massive stroke.

Elitism and limitless funds aside, the Couture makes fashion look just like what it is , merely fashion. Perhaps this idea is exacerbated by the gloom of a desperate economic malaise, but the creative force which powers the couture is sorely missing in the mediocrity of the fashion business. Pedestrian is the word that comes to mind. I didn't always feel this way. It's an about face to be perfectly honest. Digesting or choking on what passes as important or news breaking fashion is a sad step child in comparison. Granted, the richest materials in the hands of the most skilled can not compare to lesser technique and materials of a more earthbound quality. The playing field is more akin to an alpine range and a deep airless valley. What is a common denominator in this mathematical equation is design or the effort to fire all of one's engines . Every player in this sacred game has the opportunity to propel an idea forward. To hone that idea to it's most profound essence. What repeatedly disappoints me in the larger world of fashion is that too few take the time and effort to develop an idea and actually look critically at it from every possible angle, in every possible light. So often the results are glorified school projects.The label with it's vaunted reputation is rarely better than the new kid on the block. Both are churning out clothes parading as collections racing to the finish line: Collection Week.
What we see is what we get, clothes with a glaze of perceived importance. That perception is the result of editorial crop dusting.

I am not for a moment suggesting that all Haute Couture collections trump ready to wear fashion because just look at this season's offerings from Valentino , once one of the most influential houses in the world. You see it's falseness from beginning to thankful end.
If fashion is to survive it's time to get down to serious work. The customer needs to be transported. They need to be seduced to choose what they didn't know they wanted or needed. Passion needs to be reintroduced to the souls of the consumer. Collections need to speak the language of poets .

Like a life truly lived, we need to let go. It's time to step outside and plunge into the unknown. For too long it's been about our heads when it should be about our hearts.

All images are Chanel Haute Couture Fall 09

Street Obstacles

To all those nice people from Children's International, Greenpeace, ACLU, free salon haircuts. etc:
Stop blocking the sidewalk.
You are very annoying.
You should be banned.

Christian Lacroix

The statement : Elegance is Refusal.... Nothing describes better Lacroix's Fall 09 Haute Couture collection. It was a statement of complete and utter refusal. Nothing extraneous. Nothing frivolous. Every piece , detail,and fabric was meant.
I have no interest in beating a dead horse and re-telling the sordid circumstances in which he and his ateliers find themselves. We all know and yet Lacroix and his dreadfully reduced hands (only 12 remain) ,with the generosity of friends and supportive suppliers, designed one of the most exquisite collections of his career. Using existing fabrics, a minimum of embroideries,some created in house by these loyal seamstresses and donated shoes by Roger Vivier all melded together to make a statement about the true art of the couturier.
Christian Lacroix gave his audience and the world one example after another of what it means to cut, to drape to combine elements that add up to a unique and completely original view of glamor. The collection appears so deceptively simple and yet is the highest and most technically challenging example of the couture. The fact that it was done so artlessly is mind boggling. Models all in black turbans, a whisper of make up, a bold eyebrow and the quietest step. This elevated the clothes in a pallette which was almost all black, navy and a touch of white. There was a sense of deep introversion to the overall collection though some were suits for day and most were dresses and a rare gown for night. These designs seem to be expressions of his soul, the very essence of shape that made real the poetry that dwells within him. After the first 3 or 4 exits I got this overwhelming sense that I was looking at a love letter to Little Edith Beale. It wasn't the turban at all. It was this idea of taking fabric, in this case a printed silk charmeuse, the design of which was pure Franz Kline ,and wrapping and draping it to create a dress of sorts. Eccentric, unorthodox in it's silhouette, yet completely modern. Several other designs were riveting in their audacious mix of elements, volumes and decoration. Not to take away from Lacroix's vision, but it felt like Edith Beale was his muse in all her beauty,originality and strangeness. Like both documentaries, I came away with an aching heart.
This collection ended with a bride , the exact image of Madonnas one sees in roadside shrines throughout Europe.
The collection was divine in the heavenly sense. Something greater than all it's parts ; something larger than Lacroix was shared that day. If ever there was a reason to support and revere Haute Couture, Christian Lacroix's collection is that reason. It's not about the surface , it's all about one's soul.

PMSy Aphorisms of the Day

• Goodness is overrated.
• There is no such thing as innocent people.
• The world is a putrid, pustulent cesspool.
• Idealism is a waste of time.

Have a nice day! :)

Fame and Fortune are Bad for You

At this point, and to judge by the turf wars provoked in facebook by the commemoration of Michael Jackson's death, it is safe to say that the world can be divided into two camps and a distant third: Those who think Michael is a pervert, a creep and a criminal who didn't serve time because of his celebrity and his millions; and those who think he is the closest thing to the Messiah.
In the third camp are those of us who look at the entire spectacle in bewilderment and annoyance.
Nowhere in the world is the tradition of Celebrity Fuck Up more bizarre than in America. People here indeed have the possibility to hail from poverty and obscurity and catapult into humongous stardom (Elvis, MJ). But then, the dissolution of their dream once they reach the pinnacle of fame is usually grotesque, bizarre and terribly sad.
Before Michael dethroned him, Elvis was king. But Elvis came from another era. He was much more humble, much less affected by delusions of grandeur. Yet it seems that at the end of his life he was very unhappy, fat (favorite treat: a full loaf of unsliced white bread, stuffed with peanut butter and jelly and then deep fried), and addled by booze and by drugs. A bloated version of his younger self, playing the crowds in Vegas.
By the way, I saw ELVIS. I was like 10 years old. He would throw his sweaty, makeup stained handkerchiefs to hysterical women in the audience who would throw their underwear at him. He was wearing the white, sequined, flared bottom jumpsuit and he was definitely chubby. The way he sang "Fever" remains in my memory to this day. I suddenly understood why all the flying bras and panties. I think I got a fever from listening to him singing that song.
Why are the spoils of fame and fortune so bitter for some people?
In the case of Michael Jackson, the story is complicated by race and child abuse, and perhaps closeted homosexuality and self-hatred and by the fact that he made more money than God.
Compared to Neverland, Graceland is a bungalow. Just think about it: Graceland -- there is something of hope and faith and humility in the name. Neverland -- at best it's escapist fantasy, at worse it's self-destructive nihilism. It's not fit for an adult man either way.
But the worst part is the public's reaction. The adoring public is part of the reason why these people lose their marbles in the first place. Their every move is scrutinized, people treat them like gods.
They die and everybody decides to become cheesy and maudlin and shed crocodile tears.
This is when everybody all of a sudden forgets that Nixon was a prick and a crook, and that Lady Diana was a pathological narcissist and world class manipulator, and that they used to call him Jacko because he engaged in inappropriate behavior with minors. That he hated his black looks so much he bleached himself and changed his face and his hair and made sure he had white children (I find this almost as offensive as his warped sexuality, but everybody right now is totally looking the other way).
There is no doubt he was a great artist. But he was never the second coming of Christ.
Get a hold of yourselves and your easy tears, people. I cannot bear the spectacle. Why are the masses not equally outraged and passionately motivated to speak out against the war, or torture or the fact that we are all being bamboozled by insurance companies and banks?
Because everybody in this country would rather live in Neverland.

Snow Ball Wreath

I got some photos of a quilt top made in Alabama in the 1930s or '40s asking for help with pattern identification. I recognized it immediately as one of the most complex designs from the newspaper pattern source that used the names Laura Wheeler/Alice Brooks. It's number 1515 in my Encyclopedia of Pieced Quilt Patterns with the name "Snowball Wreath."

The quilt in question is appliqued with leaves tucked behind the pieced snowballs but the original pattern is designed to be all pieced. You can find it in BlockBase, the computer program that is a digitization of my Encyclopedia. Here's the drawing from BlockBase. You can print out templates, any size.

It's always fun to see if any of the audience for the newspaper patterns ever made up the designs. I don't recall seeing this one actually made into a quilt. If you are inspired send me a picture.

For more on BlockBase from Electric Quilt click here:
http://www.electricquilt.com/Shop/BlockBase/BlockBase.asp

Fall 2009 Haute Couture kick off: Alexis Mabille

Alexis Mabille , who showed a very interesting and compelling mens collection just days ago unveiled his Fall 2009 couture collection. Much anticipation accompanied this presentation. As I've heard so much about this relatively new couturier I looked anxiously at what he would present. For the most part I didn't so much see a collection of couture but a ready to wear collection with some lovely offerings. There were very beautiful dresses, a suit or two and gowns. To my mind very little of it felt like Haute Couture. Granted , the criteria for what constitutes couture is a very broad one but there was a prevailing sense that this was Pret a Porter. Charming, artful creations were scattered throughout. His leit motif and most used fabric was lace. The shapes were very soft and loose giving me the sense that draping, tailoring, a sophisticated understanding of what constitutes flou was barely in evidence.
A beautiful suit in white with double breated jacket, frothy blouse and lace inlaid pants was the most dramatic of the suits. A serrated edge on the jacket and the clever inlay of lace running down the leg of the trouser was very elegant and fresh. Other suits were just that, merely suits.One in pale rose looked like Armani collection, not Prive. Another in a rich brocade was a jacket topping hotpants. Nothing about either seemed hand made or even particularly rich.
Dresses ran the gamut of a voile dress in white, better suited for a racy french maid. Some of the lace dresses were just banal except for the artistry of the lace itself. Couture is so much more than just the fabrics, but by their shapes. My favorite pieces were the palest blue satin organza tops over circular matching short organza skirts all trimmed with a tea stained lace trim. As lovely as these pieces were, they were too easy, too simple to translate as more than nice ready to wear.
There were one or 2 fantastic dresses in silk drap.One column was asymmetrically draped under one arm and fell as a column. Very chic. Spare lovely. But in the end it felt as though he'd not made the leap yet to the vaunted title of Haute Couturier. Here are a few examples to illustrate my points.