Infinite Love For Keanu Reeves

Tonight I'm going to see Point Break Live, a scene by scene reenactment of the film. As a tween I didn't care what was coming out of Keanu's mouth. What mattered were that his lips were glistening, his voice was vacant and breathy, and his wet mop top was parted to the side. It was 100% pure adrenaline for the girls who watched.

I remembered that my friend Julie was also obsessed with Keanu. She adored him so much that she created a document of love in her junior high diary.


Infinite Houndstooth

Is September 10 official houndstooth day? It was the theme for Fashion Friday. I just keep running into it again and again. Soon I'll be dreaming in houndstooth.

Houndstooth is a painful mind puzzle if you stare at it too long. The negative space creates the positive which creates the negative which creates...

Kozy and I are in giant houndstooth from a few days ago. We look like the Asian rejects neighbors from Dynasty

Houndstooth leggings on Josephine. While stargazing in my backyard last month, Josephine got cold so I handed her the American flag sweater and leggings.

Notice houndstooth works on everyone. This is why the garage keeps giving me more and more.

Fashion Friday: Houndstooth Checked Shirt

Another experiment in time travel! There was the red plaid dress, the purple dress, and the trip to Washington Square Park. After so much recent sifting, I'm starting to get a good sense of where all the clothes are. I just need to spend more time connecting photos to their contents. 

My mom wore this micro houndstooth blouse pretty often when I was very young. She always wore her blouses with thin gold chains necklaces. I almost put on the Sex Plug but decided she wouldn't have worn that scandalous combination. 



Below, we are both at Italian restaurants. Mom is somewhere in LA and so am I (Terroni). 




Your Mom Left You A Million Dollars In Clothes

On Tuesday, the vintage fairy godmother came to my house and told me what to chuck, keep, and garage sale to Hollywood hipsters. Kozy brought over Geneva, the owner of vintage shop Trayf, an amazing stylist and fellow insane lover of clothes. We all gelled right away. I came to the realization that I can only have people who understand the value and peculiarities of the garage go through it with me. They are people who 1) love old crap and 2) have an irrational, primal love for clothes.

For months, friends and family have been badgering me to get Salvation Army to empty the inside of the garage. My oldest childhood friend expressed horror at the butterfly sheets, which are my greatest find! A superstitious Taiwanese aunt wanted me to chuck everything old because they had bad, dead person energy. Friends want me get rid of it all so I can just move closer (I live the boonies). Granted, none of them love old crap or have an irrational love of clothes but they just want me to have a better quality of life. Thanks for caring guys! 

Don't get me wrong. I want to get rid of the stuff in a timely manner. I don't want to live in the 'burbs where I'm the only single person under 40 who isn't a high school student. I just need to get rid of the stuff in a way that makes me comfortable.

When I open the garage doors, it's evident to me that my mom's clothes were her life's work. Looking at the spectrum of colors, cuts, styles, and quality of what she bought, she spent her creativity and money in culling this collection. It's hard to convey the value of this to people who didn't know her or who don't care about clothes. Yes, it's just sweaters and dresses, but clothing is more than the sum of it's parts. Fashion is about being able to change the way you look at yourself and how others look at you. It physical transformation everyday. You don't have to be who people say you are, ever! When I look at the garage I see a big fat mess, but I also see potential. 

Geneva and Kozy feel this way too. I knew they were the right people to help me when I opened the garage doors and Geneva said, "Your mom left you a million dollars in clothes! You have the best closet ever!" She was right. 

They had me create piles of keep, donate, and garage sale and meticulously went through every piece. The best part was they let me keep far more pieces than I expected and showed me ways to wear things I'd never imagined I could pull off. That's Geneva's genius as a stylist-- the see potential in everything. Kozy has impeccable style and is one of those rare creatures who can make anything look awesome. She can make ugly 70s men's shirts looked like Comme Des Garcons.

Hello dress from Winter Formal 1992.

Sequin studded blazer!

Valentino cocoon coat! Sadly, it's too big on all of us. Definitely my paternal grandmother's. She had the fancy clothes.  

We took off our clothes in the middle of the driveway Barney's Warehouse sale style to try things on. I don't think the elderly Koreans neighbors walking their Pomeranians minded. 

I'm wearing a jumpsuit with a matched cropped striped jacket. So Pretty Woman at the horse races. 

Boxes to garage sale! 

Not only did floor space clear up but rack space too. We freed up three large racks out of twenty! More later on the goodies I kept. Here are some photos on Flickr.

Addendum: special shout out to Brandon Sheffield for catching typos. 


The Swivel Calculator Organizer

Yesterday we were sorting clothes in the garage (amazing photos to come) and came across the Advantage Organizer. It's not even a knock off Filofax. But it's still a day planner, address book, and adding machine in one! Watch out iPhone!

The best part is the calculator. Built in to the leather case, it swivels from the front to the inside cover so you can keep your business in the front or the back.

She's Got L'eggs

Here is more pantyhose either from the future or deep past. I like to imagine that Sheer Energy L'eggs keep the futuristic legs of David Bowie or Janelle Monáe dancing lean and mean. 

I always keep the unhatched pack of Sheer Energy on my computer desk, just in case. 


Goodbye Summer

Summer is over before it even began. This was the coldest LA summer ever! Here's to hotter days.

This is me on Redondo Beach Pier with Jack, the neighbor's kid.

In the summer my family would go to the pier every week for steamed crab and corn on the cob. We'd bring our own dip (soy sauce, minced raw garlic, and vinegar) and dine on the stone tables overlooking the boats in the marina. When we'd finish, my parents would pacify me with quarters for the Fun Factory, an dank arcade styled after a Coney Island boardwalk.

Insert quarters into the quarter balancing on the ledge game or the ancient Pong cabinet. Take a spin on the Tilt-A-Whirl and risk throwing up your meal. When I was feeling brave, I'd give fifty cents to Morgana, the fortune telling machine. Morgana was a disembodied mannequin head with an animated face projected onto it. She had cat eyes like the evil queen from Snow White. She'd tell your fortune, but it was impossible to hear over the din of the arcade. But maybe you're just not suppose to know your fate.

Since I checked last summer, Morgana, Pong, and the Tilt-A-Whirl were still at the Fun Factory.
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