What I wore & Chanel Letter

My sister sent me more old family pics from Philadelphia in a manila envelope. They are a record of what I wore over the years. Here, in matching pinafores and ruffled bonnets with pom poms, Mom home-made. An early choke-hold shot.

My dad & me squinting in a flouncy sundress. My dad used to take me to Saturday morning finger painting classes at The Philadelphia Museum of Art. After class I’d wander on my own from room to historic room in wonderment till he picked me up. It was a terrific grounding in art history 🎨 

The picture on the right in our backyard. I remember my father scolding me to, ”Stop posing!” I posed anyway. *Note rickrack & lace ruffled hem = mom-made creation.

This looks like the final mom-made dress before adolescent ‘rebellion’ set in. So many ribbons 🎀 I don’t look happy.

As an Ado I went monochromatic. A rebellion to my mother’s dissatisfaction. I‘ve stayed that way, keeping to a range of neutrals on the dark side. Hello black.I still don’t wear prints except the occasional scarf.  Odd how life-long clothing tastes are formed at 12. What do you prefer? Prints or solids?

A caftan from my Moroccan period - solid colors. Didn’t everyone go to Morocco at one time or another?

Stripes entered my life in a big way when I worked on 7th Avenue in fashion and discovered Sonia Rykiel. *Note stripped socks.

I Loved Sonia Rykiel & Agnes b. I still have 5 stripe T-shirts in my closet and several striped scarves. You can never go wrong wearing classic stripes in Paris. Is that why I moved to France 🇫🇷 home of stripes/rayure?

En famille on the Atlantic City boardwalk. Note our matching outfits, Mom-made. I’m sure mother made her own matching head-to-toe outfit. We were her living dolls she loved to dress up until we wouldn’t let her.

I played the ‘cover’ as my mother browsed elegant fashion boutiques in Hotel Chelfont Haddon Hall (just like La Samaritaine). Except back in the day you had to doll up to enter. Forget jeans 👖  I would quietly wait outside the dressing room, while mom tried on and examined inner seams and structure of couture dresses. Such dreams of grandeur. When she’d finished her research, we’d waft out casually, (buying nothing) as though we shopped there everyday.

Here dressed to the nines in matching black-watch plaid suits with matching beanies plus a distinctive added feather. Ready to go faux/pretend shopping. Every stitch sewn by my mother. My mom was a fashion plate.

Quelle surprise Mom. I did finally go to fashion design school as you wished. I worked in fashion 7 years on Seventh Avenue, before moving on to shoe design, medical illustration, food artist, wine art and finally sending out illustrated letters💌 around the world🌏 from Paris. Bonjour Moscow! 

I think my mom would love ❤️ the Chanel letters I just put up on etsy. I hope you do too ☺️ Is it any wonder I’m mad about Bear 🐻 He’s monochromatic and wears a striped T-shirt. Well that’s enough about little ole moi

             💋☺️🐻Have a Bon Dimanche PBers🐻☺️💋

Dear Mom + a bonus watercolor

 

My sister recently sent some old photos from her scrapbook pile including this funny camp letter, undated. This is an homage to my Mom and a bit of a family saga. Probably TMI..

Was it Girl Scout camp? Was I six? Truth be told I was not outdoorsy or camper material (photo from Flickr)

Next I went to artsy, Bucks Rock Work Camp, which I absolutely adored for 3 years. We sang Handel’s Hallelujah chorus and watched a cow give birth. ‘The camp's philosophy followed the teachings of Maria Montessori, but its spirit owed as much to Pete Seeger and Bob Dylan . Campers sang folk songs, dug ditches, grew vegetables, pursued the arts. 

The owner  often responded to questions by quoting a Bob Dylan lyric, saying, "The answer is blowing in the wind." 

My parents decided it was a bad influence and put an end to that. 

A group portrait early days. My mom studied fashion design but life intervened. I’m sure my mother designed and made her bias-cut dress. She made all our matching outfits.

 Do we look alike? I was told repeatedly they found me in the bushes (like Moses?) My sister still tells me that. Note my puffy sleeves, ruffled neckline and Tyrollean print fabric. There was probably a bow in back. 

We were the recipients of my mother’s great design talent, though I bet she never planned on making a children’s clothing.

We spent summers in Beach Haven,NJ. Why I have a clam obsession. One of the cons of moving to Paris. Zero clams on the half-shell.

My sister and I walking on Atlantic City boardwalk, looking chic in off-the-shoulder matching cardies, pleated skirts and felt beanies.

They must have injected us with something to get this angelic photo. Note my pique, ruffled pinafore with puffy sleeves and bow-tied cuffs. Maybe why I don’t own anything with bows or ruffles.

Here I’m wearing a pink and black checked suit I sewed myself just before moving to New York. My mother’s master plan was: I go to design school and become the fashion designer she dreamed of becoming. I dug in my heels. But I had no alternate plan. I ‘drifted aimlessly’ from one art school to another. No ambition. When I lost my mother at 24 something exploded. I had to go to New York. I had to go to Parsons School of Design. I had to become a fashion designer. It wasn’t easy. I was older than my classmates: Donna Karin, Willie Smith, Michael Volbracht. I was a complete naif. I thought Sportswear was scuba-diving outfits. Still I survived. I made it to 7th Avenue. For a while. Then I moved on to shoe design...more fun traveling to Italy and Spain. Then Travel writing. Then back to 7th Avenue designing in Hong Kong. Then I switched to illustration. Then wine art! I nearly forgot medical illustration. Its been a convoluted journey Mom, but I’m still drawing✏️ and sending letters 💌 to you all, my latest adventure ❤️ 

A big shout-out to Stephanie for writing a letter review on etsy👏👏👏 Much appreciated.

If you’d like a small personalized watercolor buy anything in my shop this weekend and write DEARMOM in the notes at checkout. 

                   From Paris with Love PBers 💋🍓❤️☺️🐻

I Heart Maman

Friday I went over to BHV to check out the lily of the valley perfume table for more testers/touches

Gone!
 

Instead everything was la Fête des Mères coming up May 25.
 

Such pretty pastels
 

In New York I barely gave perfumes a glance.
 

In Paris I'm addicted. Yes, please spritz me
 

There's loads of teal to deck Mom out in.
 

Every now and then I wonder what my mom would think of me living in Paris.
 

I lost her when I was 24. Too young. She was just 57. Way too young. At 16 she traveled with her family on a grand tour to the Mediterranean ending up in Paris. When I was 10, my dad came home and announced at dinner he'd bought 2 tickets for Paris. My dad adored surprising her, yet I have no memories of their trip or what souvenirs she brought back. I found a lace hanky with my name embroidered on it when I was packing up to come here. Was it from my mother's trip to Paris?

Once I hit my teens it was difficult for me to appreciate my very talented mother. She had big plans for me to go to fashion design school and complete her unfulfilled dreams. I wasn't having it. We were at war when I was growing up. Yet after she died I HAD to come to New York, go to Parsons School of Design and fulfill her dreams. It was like a compulsion. I worked on 7th Avenue, then moved on to designing shoes in Italy and Spain and so many other things, finally ending up in Paris.
 

Last night I called my ancient second cousin who lives in Pigalle, to see if she remembered my parents trip to Paris.

She had vivid memories of my mom. How elegant and chic she was (my mother wore hats, gloves and suits she designed and sewed herself)...and her belle silhouette. How they all went out for a grand dinner at la Cafe de la Paix near Opera. 

Perhaps my Parisbreakfast letters are meant for my Mom?

I wish I could send her one. 

Happy Mothers Day dear PBers !

Fetes des Meres!

Fetes Des Meres, watercolor, 9" x 11"

If you live in the US this Sunday is Fetes Des Meres day or Mother's Day.You are probably rushing around and getting on lines to buy some dragees (candy-coated almonds) for Mum (if you live in Paris that is). These pretty cornets of dragees. Dragees are given on every celebratory occasion - weddings, babtisms, you name it. And usually in pastel colors. Bon Marche had jar after big jar of brilliantly colored dragee as well as the pretty pastels. I spoted these BLUE dragee in a gift shop in the Marais..

Blue food used to be a no-no.And they come ready wrapped as favors for a kid's party.
Then there is always the ever present macaron - the perfect gift for anyone at all. Pierre Herme sent out an email,
"Have you called your mother?"
Aquarelle.com sent one,
"Fete des Meres: c'est maintenant ou jamais !" (Mother's Day: It's now or never! Buy a bouquet!) Of course if you're not in Paris you don't have to lift a finger. Been there, done that already. Here's an interesting story about a strong mum.
BONJOUR LES MERES!

My Mother's Clothes

Photograph by Jeannette Montgomery Barron

My mother's clothes were filled with magic. I loved watching her dress for a party. I loved exploring her closet when she was out. Her clothes were the gateway to the mysterious world of adults.

When I discovered Jeannette Montgomery Barron's book on her mother's clothes in Paris.
 At musee des arts decoratifs I was captivated. Her mother's fashion notes. Reminded me of my own mother's design school sketches.
And my mother's ever present dreams of becoming a fashion designer. There were many parallels, like Jeannette's mother's obsession with fashion. While her mother bought the best - Bill Blass, Norman Norrell, Yves Saint Laurent, my mother only dreamed of those names. Together we sleuthed the best shops to examine and plot, so my mother could go home and sew up her own versions. Like Jeanette's push/pull tug of war with her mother, I too did not want to be fashionable as an adolecent. I did NOT want to become a fashion designer. No way! So many memories surfaced while paging through Jeannette's book that I had to get in touch with her. We started emailing. Last night I went to her book party. At Kate Spade on 454 Broome street. The champagne was flowing.People were lining up to get their books signed. And signed

There was hardly a moment to say hello.

To say "Thank you" for b ringing back memories of my mother.

Jeannette has photographed many artists - Francesco Clemente, Keith Haring, Jean-Michel Basquiat. No wonder the pictures of her mother's clothes are like paintings. Her work will be in the Staley-Wise gallery. As I was sleuthing around shooting, Jeannette recognized me from my blog photo with the giant red goggles! I've lost my anonymity but it was a delight to meet her.Kate Spade is the perfect home for Jeannette's very beautiful book.

My Mother's Clothes, works as the perfect accessory to carry under you arm.

Leaving the shop, I noticed the sign.

WE LOVE OUR MOMS

Ain't that the truth.

There's so much I haven't told you about Jeannette's book.

But her video says it all.

MERCI JEANNETTE!