Monday, September 27, 2010

Accessory breakdown

Hello readers.  I've been on that job hunt and thus satisfying my OCD by building resumes.  Yes, with an "s."  Turns out, you CAN spend hours formatting only indenting down to the last hundreth of an inch.

Summer has arrived here, allowing for shorts and tank-tops at night.  It's almost too hot, really.

My aunt sent us home from her house with the ultimate accessoire de maman, gardenias.  When I was little, after errands, my mom and I would always stop at a small florist in Berkeley, Jutta's, where I would get to pick out one gardenia.  It was the only thing I ever treated delicately.  If you touch the petals at all, they turn brown as a paper bag.
I realized I've talked up vintage accessories, but haven't really focused in on some of my favorites.  The belt was my mother's, providing that pop of red.  The chain-link enamel bracelet was my mom's, the pendant is vintage.  That bracelet is from an unknown source, though there's something Italian about it to me.  I think mostly it reminds me of Venetian glass.  The shorts I cut from $2 Bill Blass jeans (they were redlined, half off), from St. Vincent de Paul's Thrift on S. Congress in Austin, TX.  It's my favorite street.  Jo's coffee is unbeatable. 

A few years ago, all of my mom's jewelry was stolen.  What was most shattering about it was that much of it had come from all over the world.  She wasn't one to collect diamonds but rather unique, one-of-a-kind pieces, some notable favorites from my parents' late honeymoon in Oaxaca, MX.  As a little girl, I would go to her room, stand in front of her jewelry stand, and put her rings on my fingers.  I was never to wander while accessorized.  A favorite of mine was a brown topaz ring that was so 70's.  Everything was taken, dumped into her suitcase, empty drawers left on the bed.

Which is why, when we found an old jewelry box in the closet, it was amazing to find pieces like her prom medallion from 1961 and this bracelet.  It must have been the things she didn't wear anymore, put aside to be rediscovered like a real treasure chest.

These sandals were an amazing 2-for-almost-1 buy in Paris.  I couldn't decide between two colors and they salesman finally gave up and said, I'll just throw in the 2nd pair for 5 euros.  Good thing, because I have lived in them the last two summers.  This navy pair was inaugurated by a May rainstorm and a  2 am climb through Montmartre.  And getting lost on the boulevard Barbès-Rochechouart.  Someone once made fun of me in that particular metro station because I was repeating the word Rochechouart again and again.  I always thought it was Ro-shh-shwar, but it's actually Roche-shoe-r.  I digress.

The last two years, around this time, I have been on my way back to France.  Having that change has resulted in a deep-seated nostalgia. This nostalgia continues next post with a feature on buckwheat crêpes (a variation of the Breton krampouz).  On a bien mangé!


P.S. A crepe maker almost like that scene in Amélie.

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