So now I sometimes lug my camp stool and tripod around with me. I mean, adding a little more eccentricity to the mix isn't really going to make a difference, is it? And chutzpah is a good thing, right? Plus, if I have to take one more photo with my back against the wall I'm going to screeeam!
"As chairwoman of Miz Bagg Mining Corporation I call this meeting to order." Wait, where is everyone? "Come back! You're not afraid of a little... Oh, yes, well, I have some spray disinfectant in my bag." It's odd that the whole city beckons, but my best business is conducted in alleys. (Hm, that didn't come out right.)
There are advantages. I can do this. Spinning action - without whapping passersby. And I can give myself bonuses at the nearby coffee shop. On this day it was a oat-chocolate chip bar accompanied by a nutty, chocolately piping-hot coffee and hearty guffaws as I looked through the outtakes from this photo session.
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| Everything in balance; balance in everything. |
What the hell is she wearing?
- groovy thrifted bell bottoms, sold as '70s vintage but I suspect they are vintage-style new pants based on the somewhat crap quality of the fabric and the sewing. There's no label.
- thrifted wool fringed vest
- thrifted tropical top with sequined neck and sleeves and a T underneath for warmth and modesty
- thrifted Ingledew's leather ankle boots, like new
- thrifted lucky charm beaded bag
- I forgot the magic loupe from O, which I cursed at and another reason alleys are good
- insect-style sunglasses, vintage now, bought new
Eee-yeah! These groovy pants recall happy days with my transistor radio. CKLW in the Motor City.
This song by Lighthouse (1972) was a staple of my tender youth: "And yet, there's nothin' better for your soul / Than lyin' in the sun and listenin' to rock 'n' roll"
This photo was taken near another alley close to the coffee shop. I couldn't actually take photos solo in that particular alley because other people do business in there, not the executive kind like I do, but the kind that involves real money. Yup, people digging for gold in alley muck and gold-diggers in million-dollar condos all in the same block. And me with my camp stool staking my own claim. Fool's gold. I need s'mores.
Hey, who took my inflatable gavel? Suzanne...?
And one last look at these great stripey bell bottoms, worn here with my new thrifted oversized men's Diesel T that features a photo of a man's torso. I wore this with a black velvet tuxedo blazer you haven't seen.
I'm linking these stripes up to Anne's 52 Pick-me-up: Stripes on her blog Spy Girl. She is sporting some particularly peaky hair. Have a look, or even join in!
