Shades of Yellow.

"Toad talked big about all he was going to do in the days to come, while stars grew fuller and larger all around them, and a yellow moon, appearing suddenly and silently from nowhere in particular, came to keep them company and listen to their talk." 
                                                                       
                                                                      - Kenneth Grahame.


Up until about two weeks ago, there were still more leaves on the trees than on the ground. But now, enormous piles of raked, sodden maple leaves line the sidewalks and accordingly, the landscape has shifted. The horizon that lay hidden by the buds of spring and the lush green foliage of summer has stepped out from behind the high-noon sun to reveal a neighbourhood grid, church steeples and the lofty dome of St. Joseph's Oratory. The view strikes me as austere - in truth a bit melancholy - when seen from a high point, but it's beautiful, too. Beautiful in its simplicity, how the greyish-brown branches reach out past the cool light of a pale blue sky, how Jupiter pierces the November night sky a little more fiercely than it does in July.


What does this have to do with the colour yellow? Mostly that I have been surrounded by shades of yellow and gold and amber for weeks now and I wanted to write about it before it's all gone. You'll have to wait for spring for the soft pale shade of a daffodil, but for now, there's this.

(My) Room With a View

Didn't I tell you it was nice?

Am I right, or am I right?

(C'mon admit it, I'm SO right!)

Anatomy of a (Re) Covered Chair

I love my tree house of an apartment. From where I sit right this minute, I can look towards my left, past my gold velvet 'Mad Men' (or is it Jetsons?) arm chair, beyond the chipped, blue metal-top table to see yet more gold. Gold leaves on the enormous maple that towers above this house, gold leaves on the smaller tree that stands in its shade and - you guessed it! - a lattice-work of gold across the street. It's beautiful in full sun, when the bluest sky sets off the brilliance of it all, and it's enchanting and peaceful today, when the sky is a paler blue and a weaker sun casts a soft, even light across the whole tableau.

This introduction was a long-winded way of saying that even if I hadn't inherited great pieces of furniture, even if it had only been a great space I'd lucked into, I'd have been happy. But I did indeed luck into some wonderful pieces of furniture and this chair was one of them. When I arrived it was covered by a vinyl yellow-covered seat cushion, the foam inside it so disintegrated that it poured out like crushed honeycomb candy on to my front balcony. Sometime in June I purchased a square foam insert, which kicked around my living room until last week, when it was finally placed atop the chair. (Notice I said placed, not affixed - if you see the last photo, you'll notice it's slightly askew). A couple of weeks ago my sister laboured over an hour to staple the foam and first layer of fabric together, the foam finally cut to approximate the shape of wooden seat. The last step was for me to take the brown printed corduroy fabric I bought and slip an elastic through the casing I'd pinned in place; once slipped, I sewed around the edge. Too, well, lazy to change the thread to a nice matching colour, I used the white thread that was already in my machine, but since this thread can only be seen from the bottom, I have no plans to think any more about it. It adds character, methinks! A bit of dash, right underneath my chair, where you'd least expect it.

Bare bones chair, with baggy of original nuts and bolts taped to the chair back. 

The foam, finally cut and trimmed.

Andrea staples the first layer of fabric, covering the foam, on to the seat.

Cat, easily mistaken for an all-black Daniel Boone coonskin cap, snoozes on chair.

Detail, corduroy. Looks black, but no, it's brown. Milk chocolate brown.

White cat poses on chair, wearing orange necklace to 'make the orange flower pattern pop.' 

(His words, not mine!)

Blue. Bleu. Blau.

"I found I could say things with colours and shapes 

that I couldn't say any other way - things I have no words for." 

(Georgia O'Keefe).

Tartan: Take Two

I bought the skirt pattern I had my eye on with regards to that fabulous tartan fabric - it paid to wait a bit, as lo and behold, it was half-off! Then again, I had gone in to the shop to purchase elastic for another project and ended up spending more money than anticipated, so it remains to be seen if I actually saved in the long run. (Sewing paraphernalia is fast becoming my recreational drug of choice, and Fabricville my go-to connection). Anyway, it so happens I like the pattern very much and it falls under the 'easy' category, which pleases me no end.

As I was thinking more about tartan - and yes, I have been - I have pondered why I've had it on the brain. I think, first of all, it's because I love time-tested, durable fabrics - English woollens, Scotch plaids and Tweeds - I love them in their classic forms, made with integrity by hand and woven in colours that reflect their natural environments. But I'm noticing I also really respond to the work of designers who use these classic fabrics in new ways - who value the history and workmanship that have made it was it is today, but aren't afraid to use it in entirely new ways. I think the first time I encountered this was with the American designer Vera Maxwell, a key figure in the development of American sportswear and the subject of my master's thesis at NYU. Maxwell had a classic sensibility, some would say a bit stodgy at times, but she was not afraid to kick things up a notch. She created a simple evening gown in loden wool, with a matching coat - a nod to her Austrian heritage. In the 1940s - or '50s, I'd have to reread my work - she began travelling to Scotland to work with a small mill, commissioning the company to create classic tweeds in brilliant colours. It's hard to describe why this kind of thing drives me crazy, but it does...

I came late to an appreciation of the late Alexander McQueen's work, really only looking more closely at it when I was asked to write a short profile about him for the Grove Art Online database. I came away from it with a greater appreciation for him and his work, for his desire to stay true to himself and not please everyone, for his dedication to finding beauty in dark and unexpected places, and perhaps most importantly to me, for the fact that he dug history. His Highland Rape collection was a nod to his ancestors, but also to the brutality he felt they'd suffered at the hands of the English.

Vivienne Westwood is a piece of work and one of the most creative, fascinating and seemingly unafraid individuals in any profession (as far as I'm concerned). If I get started on her here in a big way, I won't stop. I only want to say that she takes tweeds and tartans and uses them in the most fabulous, humorous ways. She's fascinated by classic British textiles, British and European history and combines them uses them in the coolest, most kick-ass ways imaginable. I love that woman, I really do.

But because I want to include only images here that I took myself, I am going to show you my favourite designs - and there were a lot of fabulous ones - featured in the recent Jean Paul Gaultier exhibition here in Montreal. Let's take a look at my my current plaid crush, shall we?

Exquisite workmanship, detail, quality, but who the hell has ever seen a bias-cut, one-shoulder tartan evening gown? Punked up with a Whiting & Davis mesh biker jacket that smacks of tough and elegant, all at once?

Oy, Govnah. This is crazy. Crazy good.

There's a cameo on that scary, spiked clutch. This is tough-looking, but fun-loving all at the same time. And garters? Seriously, stop right now.

Plaid mohair waistcoat, high collar approximating the 19th century dandy, equestrian top hat, feathers as mohawk.

The cut of the waistcoat is about the only thing that's traditional here - woah, Nelly. I love that. And the shimmer of the silver blouse and gold mesh jacket is soft and ethereal - dreamy and beautiful, really...

One last look...I shall let you know how my skirt turns out.

Old Stuff. I Tend to Like it.

I stopped by a shop on Sherbrooke in NDG today called Kavanagh Vintage and man, do they have some cool things. An embroidered teal, touristy-style jacket from Mexico, ca. 1940s, a genuine Tweed gentleman's hat - too small for my noggin, unfortunately - brooches of all variety, and well, just a ton of stuff. I thought this chair below was pretty darn fine - someone not only managed to reuse those belts, but did so in a way that actually looks really, really nice. And like me it's functional, not just looks! Two thumbs up for this chair.

Further below is a bowl of buttons and buttons, particularly displayed in such a way that invites investigation, are right up my alley. Note the pretty gold one just right of center, which came home with me along with a set of very sweet pearly-white ones. A gift from the shopkeeper, no less! I think the gold one might be Bakelite, which is a resin (or plastic, I suppose), but tends to be a bit more valuable than your usual plastic. There exists some fantastic Bakelite jewellery from the '30s, '40s and '50s which goes for big bucks at auction (I know this from my working the auction floor student days in NYC - those Bakelite fans are crazy, too, let me tell you). If I create something fab with my new buttons, I shall let you know forthwith.