This blouse is one of those rare gems, a find that is so completely random and happenstance, it is only discovered by not searching at all. Back in the autumn, I skipped work one day to go apple picking with the filmmaker, and as we drove home from the farms west of my town, we stumbled on a handmade sign for an estate sale, the letters tall and clear, scrawled in black marker. Erected high on a hill, the house was a once proud Victorian, allowed to age and steep into the wooded background of the land. Within its bowels, there was a strange collection of the lives of others scattered throughout the various floors: odd hardcover books, used kitchen utensils, and an array of junk from some office desk. At the top floor of the house, in some forlorn attic room, I found this silk blouse on chrome rack, amidst some stacks of withering magazines, rife with coupons for canned green beans and advertisements for talcum powder.
Checkered across the fabric are various cocktail glasses and tumblers, filled with pale pastel libations and garnishes, adorned with traditional names and the classic recipes. These days, in most neighborhoods, a true Old Fashioned is impossible to find. Some of my favorites, notably the Bronx and the Gibson, are missing. The entire motif reminds me of a delicious spoken word record that the filmmaker shared with me, called Here's How to Mix Them featuring Maurice Dreicer.
For such a wild and boozy print, I threw a plain gray deep v-neck sweater on and wore a pleated front skirt, also in a simple gray.
Some silver rhinestones are the perfect garnish.
No comments:
Post a Comment