It's the little things

Next to hearts, my favourite symbols are stars. I love starry skies, I love to see a starry brooch on a coat, I love to see stars doodled on message pads. 

I especially love finding them in thrift stores, like these large silver earrings from the Out of the Closet thrift store in Los Angeles. They were in a basket on the counter with some scrunchies, a couple of plastic bangles and a broken headband. True, they're not really my style, and they were very tarnished, but I picked them for silver and could see they were made by hand, probably from a sheet of silver rather than moulded. I gave them a good polish this morning and rather liked their emphatic celestial statement. Not one I'd make every day, to be sure, but one I enjoyed on a hot bright Sunday.

 Nearby on the same counter, there was a plastic dish filled with cheap jewellery. I found this brooch in amongst the clatter. 

I thought it was excellent value for a dollar and am fairly certain it will find itself pinned against white or navy blue clothes in the near future. 


The best op shops always have a box or bowl of those little touches that you'll wear for years. A couple days later in the Goodwill store in Culver Hill (maybe?) I spotted this old gem under the counter, biding its time amongst a range of pendants and necklaces. 

Yes, the enamel is chipped and the brass is dull, but the design is beautiful and the wear she's endured makes her all the more lovely to me. Eight dollars was a lot (well, based on her intrinsic value) but I know I'll never see another like her. I wasn't sure how I wear her but I knew I couldn't leave without her. She would, I was certain, add a touch of history and romance on something I own sooner or later. 


I love the little touches. Everyone has their own little touch in some area of their life - adding garlic salt to their minestrone, finishing their grooming with a swipe of creamy beige lipstick,  wrapping a present with two different coloured ribbons. In all the blogs I read, it is the little touches that intrigue and inform me most. 


Another thing I've learnt about on the US blogs is Target. We have Target here but not as our American cousins know it. Our Target is safe and reliable and its range is limited. Last year I enjoyed the Target Liberty pop up store in Times Square but this year I found giant Targets on a our little road trip and did some serious Target trawling. I was mesmerised by the quality and range US Target offers. I found lots of little touches there, including this : 

It's the perfect spotty Saturday bag for keeping safe sunglasses and purses while you haul a huge bag around for groceries and vegetables. Better still, it was very receptive to a little touch of its own. 

Brooch + spotty bag = nice touch. 

The American thrift stores were good to me. In St Matthews Thrift store in Santa Monica (well worth a visit: great range, extremely well priced) I found three silk scarves that cost me a total of $2.50. 

The drug stores were just as helpful. Walgreens offered me touches of two of my favourite cheap cosmetics. 

I love both these products - they render my skin and hair quite pleasant to the touch. 


While the holiday is still fresh for me, I have to say - home is good. It's been nice, unpacking everything, allocating the space in the wardrobe, sleeping in my own bed, making my own breakfast with my own special touches. 

I miss the side order of toast with grape jelly, and I really miss sweet potato fries, but my sister-in-law (an accomplished artist and fabulous cook) made sweet potato salad today that more than satisfied that craving. 

                                              

There's beetroot, carrot and beans in there too. The recipe is from Neil Perry's book, but the almonds are her idea. I thought they were a lovely touch. 

Did you pack this luggage yourself?

There are many thousands of things I love about the US. I love their excellent roads (logical and well kept), I love their friendly and respectful citizens, I love the little tubs of raisins and brown sugar that accompany bowls of steel cut oats in diners and I love the colour and history that you can find with a little effort at every window, every truck stop, every corner. 


There are two things I wish I could bring home from home from the US and install here - the fabulous thrift stores and the Alameda Markets. 


We flew in yesterday and I, in a comforting shroud that can only be had after five Valium  (yes, five - I am a great person to sit next to on a plane, quiet and still) began to unpack. In my sweet unfocused haze, I thought you might like to see the vintage jewellery I collected on my travels. 


I'll focus today on my haul from the Alameda Markets. 

  It was all beautiful. Like this Czech pendant, Wedgwood brooch, amber glass brooch (that can also be worn as a pendant) and sash pin. 

Or this small carved plastic flower pin, or the gold lined brooch.  

Or these two glass Czech necklaces. 

Or this fabulous pair of matching glass brooches. They are bright and detailed and consequently hard to photograph but they are going to be so much fun to wear. 

It wasn't all rhinestones and clasps. There were many gorgeous dresses I had to leave behind, but did manage to find some light, easy to pack things, like  these four silk scarves. I am particularly in love with the zebra number. 

But not quite as in love as I am with this unbelievable creamy silk blouse from the forties. I believe this blouse was waiting for me. It was hiding under a pile of heavy table clothes and made itself known when I slipped my hand amongst the cloths, looking for silk. I bought it on spec without trying it on, and it fits like it was made for me. 

It is hand made, and even features tiny quilted removable shoulder pads. Look at the detailed sternum: 

Then this dress, which the dealer had marked for $60 but sold to me, for no reason I can discern, for thirty dollars. It's art silk, (hand wash! No drycleaning!) probably from the late forties, and is in perfect condition. She's a little roomy in the bosom, but nothing a good belt and fitted jacket can't fix. 
                                            
The dark patches you see on the chest area are two tiny beautifully smocked pockets. 

This little bark cloth bag is also hand made and cost me eight dollars. It has a split personality - meek and pastel...

... or crimson and dramatic. 

I like both. 


So that's one tiny corner of my luggage. Coming soon - Volume Two: the thrift shop hauls. 

Leaving Las Vegas and Hollywood

It is a universally acknowledged truth that I really like photographing my feet ...

...which I did this afternoon on the pier at Santa Monica. We drove down to for lunch and to see what the Pacific looks like from the other end. It is, I'm happy to report, just as lovely as our part. 

Hollywood and the surrounding suburbs have been a strange experience. There is so much history, and so much familiarity, yet the town seems to be scrapped clean of any soul or heart. I've never been anywhere so rich in surface and accessories yet so devoid of flesh and feeling. 


We had hoped to do a bit of wider wandering but yesterday my spouse was laid low with a bad cold and a truly terrifying cough (seriously, birds fly from trees and cats hide under beds when he coughs). In the interest of public safety I kept him out of the driver's seat and instead we took a tour around Hollywood, part of which showed us houses where famous people allegedly live. Frankly I don't believe it - why would anyone live in the Hollywood Hills or Beverly Hills when the only certainty would be a busload of tourists rubbernecking your house every ten minutes? It was interesting nonetheless, learning the geography of the districts and seeing the fancy houses. 


I much preferred taking photos of other people's feet, which you can do, of course, at the famous Chinese restaurant pavement. The size of famous feet diverted me for quite a while (seriously, Matt Damon and George Clooney have enormous hoofers) and in amongst all those grown up feet are these tiny little baby feet: 

Sweet! 


But back to Santa Monica, where I made a friend ... 

... and my husband photographed, at their request,  some lovely, stylish friends ...

...and then he made a monochrome friend of his own: 

That handsome square-nosed four-legged chap was looking quite prepared to come home with us. 


And the big news - when we were taking lunch in a lovely cafe called Marmalade, we actually saw a very famous person indeed - Dick Van Dyke took a table a few feet from us! Mr Van Dyke and his dances with penguins (Mary Poppins) is one piece of film that always puts me in a good mood for weeks on end. I'm happy to report that Mr Van D looks like he could waltz a few rounds with some penguins yet. 


We're flying home tomorrow. It's sad to be leaving - we have had a wonderful time and learnt so much. The trip will be a long one, about 22 hours and we won't arrive until Friday. To get to Australia you have to fly through a time warp over the international dateline and you lose a day. This is academic for people like me who watch Air Crash Investigation and can't fly unless they are rendered comatose by Valium.


I have my bags packed - I had to buy two new suitcases in order to get all my shopping home. J Crew, Banana Republic and thrift shops are my weaknesses; visiting the Outlet place in Las Vegas has not helped matters. 


I have some wonderful purchases to show you when I get home, not least my magnificent Hermes blazer that I found in a store called Address in Santa Monica this afternoon. It is Holy Grail of blazers - in pristine condition, plain and yet beautifully detailed, large pockets, on sale and fits like it was made for me. I promise to provide relevant photographs when I am back in my home, but meanwhile here is my second favourite purchase - $5.99 from the CVS drugstore on Hollywood Boulevard: 

Cotton pyjama pants in a leopard skin print. Oh, CVS. Is there any whim of mine you can't satisfy? 


Before I go, a couple of other favourite feet: 

I can just picture her shoes. 

And hers. 

My two favourite Pisces-Aquarius couples. 

For ever more

Happy Valentine's Day!

St Valentine, as we know, believed in the power of love over all things. I believe in love and sweet chili sauce for my vegetables. That this little tub sweet chili sauce formed this pattern is one of the many happy coincidences that I've known these last ten days or so. 

This evening I caught the lift in my too-funky-for-the-likes-of-me hotel with a lovely cheerful young man who greeted us with great courtesy and charm. "How's it going?" I responded. "Actually," he said, "it's going great - I just performed at the Grammys! It's been one of my dreams and now I've done it!" 

Needless to say we were delighted for him. Sadly, I'm not young people so I don't know who he was. Hollywood, to that extent, is wasted on me. 

But not in other regards. For a start, I have seen the stars. None made me so happy as this one: 

My first crush! Seriously, I had a very severe crush on Sherlock Holmes - the Hollywood version - when I was 12. Sherlock Holmes is always Basil Rathbone to me. 

And of course the shops. I made rather a welter of it in Sephora and Zara this afternoon. A shopping spree on Hollywood Boulevard is not to be sneezed at. It almost beats Saturday's excess when my kindly husband took some rickety little aircraft to the Grand Canyon, something I couldn't face without being sedated to the point of coma. "I'm worried you won't have anything to do," he said before he left. 

Fat chance. 

Closing the suitcases is becoming one a major part of my daily exercise routine, and these are contributing to two of the major food groups of my diet: 

Why can I not buy these in Australia? 

Today we travelled from Las Vegas to Hollywood and when I was not eating, or thinking of eating, raisinets, I was thinking about Edgar Allen Poe. I was inspired by these blokes: 

Ravens! I'd never seen them in the flesh before. When I saw them I suddenly understood what set Poe writing for Lenore. They are fearsome and majestic and, as the truck driver who was buying something not quite coffee from the same diner told me, they can talk!

This trip to the States has done this for me on a larger scale too. Listening to conversations, talking with strangers in stores and diners, wandering through drug stores, watching the scenery - it is making the literature and the dialogue of America so much clearer. What once seemed to be somewhat mannered dialogue in Cannery Road or The Corrections now seems sparkling and authentic. 

Which brings me back to the start of of this post - hearts and love. Today marks thirty years since my mitrol and aortic valves were replaced. At the time the surgeon told me the valves would last about fifteen years and that my heart wasn't strong enough to withstand surgery a second time. It is an odd shadow to live in, a strange sound to live with,  a ticking clock that you're expecting to stop any minute. Over the years the prognosis has changed, and late last year I found out the valves I have - Starr Edwards - are now recognised to be indestructible. They could last forever, if only the rest of me were as durable. 

And that makes me very happy, that was once unclear and doubtful time is now spent feeding ravens, eating chocolate covered raisins and realising that I now understand Truman Capote better than I did.

The journey continues! 

Wisdom cries out on the street

Apologies for the irregularity of my posts - I am constantly distracted by drugstores, deserts, small blue-black birds with very long wand-like tails and thousands of people feeding their money into machines to watch the lights flash. 


We have travelled by car to Las Vegas via Yosemite. It has been fascinating and astounding. Yosemite was cold, remote and beautiful; the bears were asleep but I did see some deer ambling across the road one night. The drive down to Vegas was fabulous - everything I had imagined about America came to life. We had lunch en route in Bakersfield. There was a bucket of peanuts on the table while we waited for our order. You just cracked them open and threw the shells on the floor. 


I'd forgotten how chatty and kindly Americans are. Everyone talks, everyone is happy to share stories with you. I've come to realise how very separate Manhattan is from the rest the States; in the last few days I've got a much clearer picture of how tough some people are actually doing it in this part of the world. I've also seen a much wider, more diverse picture of America, its industries and its geography. 


I'd show you some examples of that but at the moment the computer and I are having a little fight and it won't tell me where exactly it has stored the photos I downloaded a few minutes ago. Patience, please. There has been much travelling, many fine meals in diners, lots of sightseeing and of course shopping I need to share. 


But I can show you that I definitely am in the desert: 

 ...there's a big bustling city in the middle of it. 

 Dressed perfectly for Outlet Mall shopping - not so good for the freezing temperatures of Mount Charleston. Kindly spouse donated use of his fleece for the occasion. 

 And we found the one place in Nevada, maybe in the whole of the States, that makes real expresso coffee. 

A Colorado crow,  captured by my intrepid wandering spouse while I chose outlet shopping over fear of very small aircrafts. That's a canyon, a grand one, in the background. 

The attractions of the next world

Exhibit A: 

An amateur, obviously. This is not my shopping debris.  It belongs to some woman down the hall who went to the Auto Convention in the weekend just past. I include the photo to make my own profligate behavious appear mild. 

This is mine. Well, some of it. Exhibit B:

 Contents include this charming silk blouse by Twelve by Twelve...

.. which I got down at one of the wonderful vintage clothing stores in Haight Ashbury for six dollars. There's also this Missoni bag...

and this heart-breakingly beautiful silver citron pendant: 

 This seemingly innocuous little barkcloth bag is holding all the vintage jewellery I've bought so far. 

There's room for maybe a couple more pairs of earrings. I've also bought shoes. Lots of shoes. And some dresses. And a couple of tops. Oh, and a coat. And shoes, did I say shoes?

We put our boots to work today and wandered over many districts. We went here for lunch in Nobs Hill...

...which is where you should go too if you're ever in the market for an excellent vegetable omelette. The man in my life drank this:

I commend to you the chocolate chip peanut butter milkshake. His testimony described the drink as "amazing" and "best milkshake I've ever had." 

When the waitress took my order something inside of me snapped and I asked for a side order of biscuits and gravy. I'd always wondered exactly what they were and now I know they're scones in a sort of cheesy white sauce. 

Having eaten these indigenous foods we felt compelled to burn up some calories, which is how we got to take photos of views like these: 

We walked up there. I would put the effort, and the amount of chocolate chip peanut butter milkshake fuel required to make the journey, on par with that needed to scale the Hindu Kush. 

It was well worth the effort. This city is so beautiful. 

We're headed out now for I'm taking my gentleman to dinner to celebrate his birthday. Fingers crossed the restaurant I've chosen also serves chocolate chip peanut butter milkshakes.