Summer in the city

The first one is the view of the sky from the shop right after the storm passed. Furious nature showing it's colours.

Life and Death Cycles

Schunzel
1991-Aug 18,2009

Beautiful, feisty, smart
Loving, ferocious, curious

Wake us in the night
For love, or for attention

Come to us
Look into our eyes,

Talk with purr so loud
Remind us of our duties

Lie beside the kids when sick
Scratch them when they pass you by

Mark us with your smell and hair
Then move away to rest a while

We sit, you sit
We rest you rest
We eat you want to share

We live you live
And then you die
We live on to miss your essence
Your bushy proud tail
Those huge green clever eyes that see us as we are
The whiskers, the hair inside your dainty ears
The fine arrangement of your fur
The whole of you, and now the hole of you.

What Remains

I've just watched the film Sylvia, a touching rendition of her life and love with Ted Hughes. Made me want to read her writing again, after many years.



Poppies in July

Little poppies, little hell flames,
Do you do no harm?

You flicker. I cannot touch you.
I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns.

And it exhausts me to watch you
Flickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.

A mouth just bloodied.
Little bloody skirts!
There are fumes that I cannot touch.
Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?

If I could bleed, or sleep! -------------
If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!

Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,
Dulling and stilling.

But colorless. Colorless.

Poetry on Lake Simcoe

I was referred to this poem by a kind customer who heard I was on lake Simcoe recently:

Poetry on Lake Simcoe
By Desi Di Nardo

We were oceans apart when I met you
On my way to a blackened hell
You swept by me
A wingless angel
And pulled me up
To keep me from sinking
I sat on an invisible alae
Stunned by your strength
You carried me to loftier dreams
While I scattered old dead skin
Like fragile snowflakes
Pale white shells
Floated down
Lighting up the sky
And drifted from memory
Like a cold winter song
Skimming dancing flitting
As broken pebbles do
We smiled and wondered
On whose toungue they would fall

Water Power

I take the phrase 'put your feet up' literally.


There's nothing like being by the water, on the water, in the water, to calm and repair what needs to be repaired inside.

Alive and Kicking

I had some interesting conversations today.
One with Allen, a lovely man who used to come to the shop before changing workplace sometime last year. I have not seen him around for a long time, and today he stood by the shop window looking in as I came to open. It was a nice surprise. He browsed and found a shirt I would have never thought he'd buy, it was very colourful. In the past he used to shop for dark colours only. Then we talked for a while and I understood why.
Allen told me he died last year when he was in the hospital, and was revived with a defibrillator. He's healthy now, and only faint marks of the defibrillator are there as a reminder. It changed the way he looks at life. I can see how death would do that to people...

Later in the day a lovely young man came by, sent to me by another favourite customer. While he tried on many items with relish, we talked about our lives. He is one of those rare youngsters who escaped (that's how I see it) the oppression of a religious orthodox Jewish upbringing. Our conversation drifted from that, to what life in a kibbutz is like, to ways to be successful with women, and lamenting the rarity of men like Don Draper (Mad Men main character). It was a lively discussion.

I was introduced to this TV series by David: Saving Grace is about an Oklahoma policewoman, a fantastically wild one, who's angel is trying to save her against her wishes. It's well written and acted, it's explicit and controversial, and I love it, despite the religious overtones. I particularly like it when Earl, the angel, effectively spreads his wild wings at the most opportune moments, to scare or to caress. Those wings are magnificent.

My Esteemed Curator

He's not really mine, but I like to call him that.
This is my dear friend David, who's been keeping me company and helping in the shop since the winter. His help is invaluable, I can't begin to tell you how much. His experience in the retail and fashion industry, his cheerful disposition, his brave attitude in the face of adversity is just amazing to me.
David is moving back to the U.S. in a few weeks and I will miss him very much. Who will bring me dvd's to watch, music to listen to? Who will curate the shop (rearrange the racks every few days) and refresh the look of the shop when I'm too laid back to do it myself? Who will keep me abreast with everything one needs to know about gay culture, fashion icons, great TV series, designers? Who will challenge my dear husband in ways to treat me better?
David, I hope we'll keep in touch, wherever you go, whatever you do.

New qoute and a song

Last night at my dear friend Linda's birthday party, this song was played and sung beautifully by Janice, Lucas and John. There is no recording of it, alas, so here's another version, by Chet Baker. It's heart breaking.



And a new quote, finally. I left the last one in the shop's window for many months, because I like it so much and wanted to be reminded of it's truth every day. (It was this: There's more to life than increasing its speed - by the eloquent Mahatma Ghandi).

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.
Aldous Huxley

Melody Gardot

This is a new discovery for me. This one's called - 'Our Love is Easy'. Many of her songs are just as great. Enjoy.

She is gone

I just heard the sad news of Pina Bausch's death yesterday, June 30, of cancer. I had no idea she was ill when I posted the previous entry. Apparently, neither did she - she died 5 days after being diagnosed.
As the music in Cafe Muller begs: "Remember me", I will remember her as one of the greatest artists of our time.

To view some pictures and information about her click on the post title.


Here is a piece I saw on stage many many years ago, which moved me to tears. Pina Bausch used to say she's more interested in what moves people than in how they move. I somehow doubt that though, when I see the dancers she chose to work with, all marvelous movers, young and old alike. She found the perfect balance combining both physical and emotional movement.

And in Toronto

I got lucky last Friday. Not what you think. Keep your mind clean.
I got a ticket to see a beautiful dance show, part of the Luminato festival. It was The Netherlands Dance Theater, in a 3 piece show that took my breath away.
Here is an excerpt of one, made by a duo of choreographers - lightfoot/Leon, and danced impeccably (the first piece):



Those who know my historical love affair with dance might understand what seeing a good dance performance does to me. It is inspiring and uplifting, but at the same time I'm infuriated for not being serious enough about my own aspiration in the field.

Speaking of historical love affairs, while searching youtube for the previous video, I stumbled upon this one, probably one of the very best dance theater pieces ever made, and a particular favourite of mine, which I haven't seen in so long I don't even want to remember. It was a nostalgic moment.
Here is a short but effective piece from "Cafe Muller" by the legendary Pina Bausch:

Living it up (briefly) in NYC

Big city, bright lights and all that. It's all that it's cracked up to be. So goood to be away for just a little bit, not too much at a time, this city is just too full of excitements, too much of everything. Makes one feel a bit inadequate, and quite poor.
Still, can't complain - consumed a bit of culture, a lot of food, walk the paths of central park, meet good old friends, listen to some good jazz - it's all great.

Here's little pieces of what I saw.


Robert Longo at a show in the Metropolitan Museum. Here's a link from The New Yorker about this interesting time in the art world in America: click on this post title to get there.

You Who Never Arrived - a poem

By Rainer Maria Rilke

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods--
all rise within me to mean
you, who forever elude me.

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house-- , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced
upon,--
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening...


--Translated by Stephen Mitchell

Another Kind Model

He tried on some of my suggestions, then rejected them thinking the combination was too good for the office and got some other items more suitable (only to come back a few days later to say he's rethinking).
I took his picture, he looked too good in there not to.

RM in Fab

Click on the post title and check out this Fab magazine cover and the credits for the clothes. The fact is they didn't credit RM for all the stuff I gave them - neglected to mention the belts, bag, and mostly the fab boots, but that's ok, I'm very forgiving.