FPM: Massive Mad Hatter's Tea Party--No Not THAT Kind of Tea Party

I was going to talk about belted short dresses (and how they irritate me), and/or the Sonic Youth concert I took the kids to last night (Kim G. wore a silver shift over black leggings full of slashes), but a flier directed me to a Mad Hatter's Tea Party in Tompkins Square Par on Sunday--a production of way groovyThe Free Art Society.

(Much to the chagrin of many, I stop to read fliers, even those advertising a need for band members, which should mean nothing to me, a non-musician, but I can't help it. When I lived in San Francisco, this compulsion led me to drag a reticent roommate out to the Palace of Fine Arts one damp and cold August 8, 1988 for a kind of lame "8/8/88" celebration.)

Back to the--er--Tea Party. (Does anyone else hate how much undereducated yahoos have co-opted that delightful noun phrase?) I hope I've captured a little of the mayhem and how happy it made everyone who participated and who watched. English accents were attempted by all. Passersby were invited to the table to eat and drink at a long narrow table on which the Cheshire Cat intermittently pranced. Things like this make me happy to be in my largely inconvenient life.

Wearing: polka dots
Reading: Beverly Cleary's 1963 teen novel Sister of the Bride aloud.

FPM: Costello Tagliapietra

1. Today is my birthday and I am wearing this dress (which really does look better on). It's designed by my latest obsession Costello Tagliapietra: One is Costello, the other is Tagliapietra. I don't know which one is which. RJT pointed out the freakily wonderfulness of them in the comment below. You can read about them here--or just read RJT's comment.

2. Sigh. Today is my birthday, and I fell on my head during 7:00 am yoga today. I never do 7:00 am yoga.

3. I'm reading Mickey Leigh and Legs McNeil's memoir of Joey Ramone. Mickey is Joey's younger brother, and he provides a bold and honest portrayal of Joey, starting from babyhood. What unfolds is a sibling dynamic troubled by Joey's big problems (OCD, paranoia, his addictions and physical ailments) and the ways in which music saves him and drives intermittent often insurmountable wedges between the competitive brothers. Worthwhile for its super intimate look into one of the most unique and inimitable rock stars in history.

4. I've miss seeing Joey around the neighborhood. He lived on 9th Street in the East Village. Once, he was in back of me in line at Veselka. I remember him saying in his thick Queens accent, "I would hate to be in the restaurant business." Oh, why, why did I NOT say hi?

5. I don't even have one pair of good jeans.

6. What are you reading? Wearing?

7. Other photos: deconstructed, unfitted fashion--been seeing this a lot in the neighborhood; Chrissie Hynde with kitten, and looking just hot. A good role model for me as I age. Gracefully? Let's hope.

FPM: There's Nothing That Says Lake Winnipesaukee like Courtney Love

As I type, I am sitting on moss and acorn shells next to some woods in New Hampshire. Although the cabin in front of me is obscuring Lake Winnipesaukee at the moment, it's just over the hill a piece, and I went kayaking this morning wearing . . . not Courtney's kinderwhore look, sadly, but the American Apparel t-shirt on the left.

And of course, kayaking always makes me think of Courtney Love, who just started a fashion blog: What Courtney Wore Today. Don't you want to know? I do! As controversial as it is to love her, I've loved her since I was young enough to copy her babydoll grungey thing that became her identify for awhile. (Now she's decidedly more Stevie Nicksish.) I love her, too, because we were born the same month and the same year (July 1964)--she's 20 days older, so you can imagine the emotional connection we have. (I was also born the same year as Sarah Palin, but there's nothing more to be said about that.)

Also, reading my old writing teacher Francois Camoin's short story collection: decidedly listless, melancholy, resigned middle-aged men negotiating life, love and K-mart in the western United States. This is Francois' first collection since 1992!

(Everyone, ssssh--there is a very fashionable chipmunk just four feet from me! And thank you, Google, for these images.)

FPM: Yellow Dresses, Lara, and Utah Teens on the High Line

For awhile, I've been trying to do a themed post, and so here it is. Yellow dresses in all shades, from lemon to butter(?). Okay, I'll stop now. The first dress from from after the fireworks on the 4th of July and was vintage looking and short in a way I can't wear short anymore. Sigh. (Over her shoulder is a Sustainable New York tote.) The others were collected at the Bear in Heaven concert at the South Street Seaport on Friday night. (I couldn't resist, however, the gal in the red dress and the strange guy all in red: shirt, shorts, socks.)

All week, I've been trailing my friend Lara as she sheperded eight Utah-based teens around the city. (I trailed them to Fela on Broadway, and the Upright Citizen's Brigade, Coney Island, and Shakespeare in the Parking Lot, ending with The High Line yesterday.) Below is a photo of Lara whose book of poetry was just released by Blaze Vox, her teens, and a painting affixed to the fence where The High Line ends.