A Question On Style

What is your style?

I've never gotten a grip on style. When I worked for the federal government I dressed in long skirts, flats, some sort of sweater or fancy T-shirt, and always wore vintage cameos. When I retired and became a full-time antique dealer, doing shows and having a few booths hither and yon, all my work clothes went to Goodwill, and my cameos sold at Scott's Antique Market. The me I seem to still be surfaced. Jeans, black sweaters, black T-shirts, and as I've mellowed over the years, small print longer blouses. Cowboy boots in those early retirement days and now canvas Mary Janes are my go-to shoes. First, the cameos were replaced with layers of vintage Native American Turquoise pieces which were replaced with artist-made pieces from Etsy with old tintype photos, crosses, and rhinestones. Big, chunky pieces that drew attention. I remember running into an art gallery in Decatur in 2011 (having just left my little shop) to view an exhibit of dog paintings. I felt a mess. Didn't have time to clean up or change. My typical black sweater and jeans, only I have several thick silver and turquoise necklaces around my neck and rings on my fingers and bracelets up both arms. Decked in my favorite vintage Native American pieces. I became the center of attention!  Everyone loved (loves) vintage turquoise, and I stood taller, laughing, not worried about my clothes. No one ever noticed anything but my jewelry. The same thing with my "dead people" jewelry, as I like to refer to pieces with old tintypes in them. The folks were very much alive at the time of the photoshoot, just not now. After all, I like to be artsy, not morbid!

I wouldn't leave the house without my jewelry, lip-gloss, and always, perfume. My fashion statements. I used to put on lip-gloss and perfume to greet the pizza delivery guy (jewelry would have been overkill). I didn't want him thinking I was home alone on a Saturday night.

My how times have changed again. I moved to Monroe just as the pandemic arrived. I promise we didn't travel together. I never unpacked my jewelry and spent most days in sweat capris. I had essential boxes to unpack, a house I fell in love with, and my crazy dogs to keep me occupied initially. Any fashion sense tanked. I stopped coloring my hair (I always do my own. Not a beauty shop gal). And somewhere in there, I started painting my garden ladies. Happy ladies with a style of their own. I may walk around covered in acrylic paint and glitter, still in PJ's until 4PM, hair matted to my head from sleep the night before (I get up, feed dogs, and start painting) but my ladies had to be lovely. I wanted them to reflect the beauty in everyday life, happy with themselves, loving flowers and gardens, and pets. Then Mazie Mouse joined in, with her crisp white apron. A lady with a lot to do in her day. But still, garden and flower-related. And glitter! Heaven knows I am in love with glitter.

Painting helped me find my own style again. Still jeans and T-shirts and come fall (which is upon us, right?) sweaters. The first day I put on one of my art necklaces I danced a little jig. I sprayed perfume (too much, as I was excited!) around myself. The dogs coughed. But I laughed. I've missed you, jewelry! Then I stepped out my kitchen door with confidence.

I think the best style at any age is to be comfortable in what you wear, be warm and friendly to others, and always smile. No one really cares how you are dressed and to totally make Maya Angelou's quote my own, "No one really cares what you wear, but will remember how you made them feel." (Don't grimace. Remember I am writing this for myself and sharing it with those who find my blog!)

In case you make it here, what is your favorite style?

 

Fedora Fantasy

 

Inspired by a Stevie Nicks quote. "Don't be a lady. Be a legend". I say be both! Fedora and jacket highlighted with glitter.  

(Painting Sold)

I wish I had the courage to wear a fedora. I own several but feel self-conscious putting one on in public.  I want to be bold but my shyness takes over. A hat of any kind might draw attention to me and that makes me nervous. Yet if you know me and I start telling my life stories, I love being in the spotlight. So why the hat conundrum? I'm afraid it says "Hey, look at me. Cool, right?" And I question my coolness daily. 

Yet, maybe, eventually. . . Meanwhile, I stay a legend in my mind knowing my fedora awaits an act of courage. One day I'll pull it off the top closet shelf, place it gently on my head, spin it a bit for the right amount of angle, and strut out the door with confidence. Here I am world!

Perhaps my fedora fantasy stems from a gal I watched dance at a club in Decatur, Ga a few years back, between my two hip replacement surgeries. I wrote about the incident in my memoir "The Unfaithful Widow Ten Years Later". 

"So Saturday night, after a glorious day in the country, I'm back in my hood with a male friend, eating dinner, watching younger folks dancing to old rock music. Tapping my feet to the beat and drinking wine at our table, I think about my upcoming birthday in August. If my surgery goes as planned in April, I will be on the dance floor, my cane no longer needed.

A woman that evening caught my attention. She danced alone, moving to the music, lost in her own world. I couldn't see her face, so I don't know how old she might have been. Wearing a black fedora, a blazer, short skirt, black tights, and tennis shoes, she danced a few minutes holding her wine glass high in her hand, and then vanished into the night. Mysterious, alluring, she never returned. Her image is etched in my mind. Could I be like her? Or at least, have that dark fedora and dance with abandon, steady on my feet?"

That question still haunts me. Can l be THAT woman? Dancing the night away,  black fedora shading my face, maybe inspiring someone else's fantasy with my coolness? The older woman rockin' it out with her cane. Yes, my cane and I are still partners in crime.

Dance like no one is watching. On the dance floor and in life!

(And thanks to Stevie Nicks for the inspiration for my latest painting!)

Why Cats?

Oliver. 8 x 8 X 1/2

acrylic on recycled canvas. Painted last night.

***

Why cats? Or more specifically, why do I paint cats when I live with six Chihuahuas?  At first, it seemed easier to paint cats. Simple, whimsical black cats with expressive eyes. I was told once that everyone relates to cats, black cats, tabby cats, all cats.. But dog lovers are more breed specific with only wanting their type of dog in a painting.

A lifetime ago it seems, before I met my husband, I had two cats. Momcat and Sparkles. Momcat ruled and when Sparkles joined my little family, he had to wait for Momcat to accept him. Sparkles came from a broken home and I answered an ad for him. DIVORCE. And the mother couldn't keep her child's cat in their new apartment. So Sparkles came to live with me and (side benefit) I started dating the dad. Long story short. I kept the cat and the wife got her husband back. They never asked me for Sparkles. I was happy for that but sad for their little girl who missed her pet.

Then I met my husband who was allergic to cats. I stayed with him and rented the upstairs of my house to a local filmmaker who would feed Momcat and Sparkles as part of his rent. I had daily visiting rights and being the helicopter type of pet owner I am, I sat with Momcat and Sparkles every day. I even sang to them, putting a favorite record on and wailing off-tune with Al Jarreau's "We're In This Love Together.".They lived happily with our arrangement. Until time took them as time does with us all.

I went dog crazy after I lost my husband. No one to say "no" to my desire to have dogs, lots of dogs. I adopted five in nine months and along with Foxy Barth, my old girl that was still with me. Hence the title "Writer With Dogs" and my favorite slogan, "I love my Margaritas but live with a six-pack at home." I still have a six-pack, only minis.

I'd love to have a cat own me again. But cats and dogs together are more than I can handle. So painting them seemed so right. After all, visions of cats roaming the garden, peeking through cottage flowers, purring wildly while curled up on a lap, still held my heart. So cats crept into my paintings on their little paws and I became cat crazy on canvas.

As Ernest Hemingway said, "One cat leads to another." That seems to be my art story.

                                           ***

Some earlier cat paintings! These have sold. The Christmas card was from 2020 and will be in my Christmas booth at the Monroe-Walton Center for the Arts Christmas gift shop next month.

Good-bye Web Page Hello Blog

 Today I took a bold step. Well for me it was bold.  I canceled my author website. It will disappear mid-month. My annual renewal fee came in and it was $204. I looked at my checking account, the one stretched to the limit and decided it was time to part company. I AM an author, a writer, but I wear a new hat now, too. Artist. I wanted a space I could talk about everything I love from writing, painting, antiques, decorating, and my naughty six Chihuahuas. Maybe even throw in some life wisdom if I wear my thinking cap.

As soon as I made my decision to let go of a website I've struggled with for years, a feeling of freedom came over me. I've been "Writer With Dogs" since I bought that domain twelve years ago. And back then I was a writer, publishing my widow memoir followed by my slightly x-rated farmhouse thriller, my dog's Paris diary, and finally my final widow memoir. Yes, I'm still a widow, but that's only part of who I am. Even "Writer With Dogs" has been replaced by "Chihuahua Mama". But understand I still own that "Writer With Dogs" domain! I like to hoard domains. 

For the last two years, I followed my heart and started painting. I'm lost in acrylics and covered in glitter. A child playing and having fun. Happy paintings of ladies in gardens, flowers, cats, dogs, mice wearing dresses. Whimsical images that share beauty and joy. 

I've never been able to find how to juggle all I love on social media. Promoting books one day, art another. And truth be told, I don't think my website drew attention it was just a filler on other areas that requested a web link. 

At 73 I still wonder, who am I? I am everything I love and some things I'm not so crazy about. I'm still learning and growing. "You're never too old." I love that saying. There are days I wish I could do more. Joints hurt, I don't walk well, my cane is my buddy. And napping with the dogs is the best idea ever.  But most days I'm filled with energy to take on the world My world that is a creative one.

I'm painting, working on my Christmas novella, a children's book is forming, and hey, that $204 I saved by canceling my website, it's buying a sweet farmhouse cupboard for my guest room. Sorry, Visa. I know you were expecting an extra payment.

Here I can play and be whoever I want to be on any given day. How fun is that?

Care to join me?

As always, bedazzled by life! Barbara