I like little things. By little things, I mean little furniture, tiny dolly shoes, small paper doll patterns, baby forks and spoons, etc. For a long time I collected small things. Not sure where they got to. But I still have a collection of tiny furniture and tiny cutlery I hope to one day place in a tiny house I will build and wallpaper delicately myself. I have a family waiting to move in. In the meantime, my Sims will have to suffice. I've built 4 separate communities. My computer chugs now when I enter their worlds. I need a bigger hard drive for my fantasy lives. I think this is just darling
. In fact, I may have that very outfit on the left. I love art deco-ey. 50's dinette sets too.
Speaking of art deco
, I happened to go to a very neat Art Deco of Montreal
meeting tonight. I'd met the lady who runs it at a recent Quebec Writers Federation meeting a month ago. She also happens to have written a book about Montreal's wealth of Art Deco buildings and is holding a world conference in 2009. She also wrote a very famous book about nutrition in the 80's, which I just happen to have found two weeks ago while working at a book warehouse, packing lots of used books to be catalogued by poor students like myself. How wierd that things come around as they do. I spoke to her a bit tonight, not as much as I'd like (I'm quite shy sometimes, really, much to my surprise). She's lovely. Her name is Sandra Cohen-Rose. Even her name sounds all flowers and wine. A very appropriate Montreal name to have, I think.
So, while seated at the table tonight of full strangers and older art deco enthusiasts, I milled about the conversations, sipping on red wine and stuffing myself with free cheeses, smoked salmon, and the sweetest strawberries I swear I've ever had. The table at one point was occupied by several very nice ladies who were telling me about Montreal neighbourhoods I should visit and the walking tour of Art Deco Montreal I should go on (which I shall), as well as some interesting conversational twists: 1970's feminism, Irish theatre, the wreck of the inbound 1914 ship Irish Empress, bound for Montreal but sunk in 1914, killing 68% of it's passengers in its sinking after 14 minutes of hitting another ship. Imagine! I even may have inspired one of those kind ladies to take up her lifetime passion of writing. She wants to take me for a walk-about of a Montreal neighbourhood. How nice. Although I was the youngest attendee tonight, I had a really good time talking, and then listening. Montreal has been so cold since I've been here. Adjusting is tough. But spring is here. And now I can look upward, toward the splendid peaks of Montreal's architectural glory.
And now for something completely different. I've decided to share some of my jewelry collection with the blog universe. Here's some of my treasured crap. Consider it a game of "what's in my jewelry box!":
My charm bracelet when I was a kid. The little head is a boy's head. They got that wrong somehow. It has my birthdate inscribed on the other end. If you see me wearing it sometime, ask me about the other dangly items.
I made this ring in high school art class. Isn't it the ugliest thing? Can't bring myself to throw it away though. Funny how that is.
About, oh, 20 years ago at the FREX (Fredericton Exhibition) my first, er, love -- Tracey (yes, a boy) won me this piece of metal on one of those spinny wheel things. He had it engraved "walop the scallop". It means something. To me.
This is my favorite necklace. It's a lucky horseshoe-dealy. Although I wore it to the races and never won. Whatever. If you see me wearing it, chances are I'm feeling pretty happy. Or wanting to get lucky...
The Russians gave me this. I say "the Russians" like they're just a big mass of thing. But really they are. And I love them to pieces. I was engaged once. This was something his mom gave me. In fact, I've been proposed to twice. Both times, no ring. Does that mean anything? And, is this a pin to be worn on a lapel or something? Never could figure it out.
This locket was given to me by my grandmother. It contains a picture of her son, my father, who died in 1973. His name was Blair. What a great name that is.
My first (and only, so far) piece of jewelry I've bought here in Montreal. Love the amber. It sits on my finger like a spring day. Lovely.
Is this jewelry? Nah. But it's kinda neat, maybe. From my days in air cadets. Loved wearing a uniform. Something about the crispness of the fabric. How the pleats were razor sharp, the boots as shiny as mirrors. Won best cadet of the year the first year I was in it, in fact. Wierd eh?
Ok, all for now. So much stuff I still keep in my jewelry box. Maybe I'll indulge in another post sometime. This was a fun distraction down memory lane! (And now, my return to study time).