Rekindling Friendships In The Sierra Nevada



Becky, center, Lily, right, and I enjoy the amazing view from
Tom and Sally's deck in the Siera Nevada mountain range

OOPS. No. It's not an expression of error.  It's an acronym which stands for Old Orinda People Soiree. As in a party of momentous proportions to reunite a bunch of us of a certain age who all grew up in the small east bay towns of Orinda and Moraga in the San Francisco Bay Area and attended the two high schools there. As in how I spent my Memorial Day weekend, which was absolutely fabulous.

The gracious hosts of the reunion party were Tom and Sally, he of Orinda Motors, who eventually purchased the gas station and automotive repair shop at which a group of us had spent our formative years.  Early on in high school, I developed a taste for muscle cars and deep-throated motorcycles, and naturally gravitated toward a place where both held an honored position - our neighborhood gas station.  I even took an auto-shop class in high school (I was the only girl in my class) during which the teacher held up my oxy-acetylene bead to the other students as an example of a perfectly straight weld. I got an "A" in that class and embarked on a lifelong love affair with big engines.

As a teen, I subscribed to Cycle World magazine and spent time as a "trophy girl" at local speedway races.  I held a position for awhile as the fastest girl in my age bracket on an ATV track at the tiny Point Richmond race track, clocked the fastest time for a girl my age at the popular go-cart track in nearby Concord (a record that took several months to break), and naturally hung out with like-minded kids, almost all of whom happened to be male.  But that was incidental, really.  I was just "one of the guys" in our group of automotive lovers, treated more like a little sister than a potential squeeze, and that's just how I liked it.

1970 El Camino with Hurst 4-speed transmission and 454 cc motor

I learned to shift gears on Tom's Triumph 650 in the early 1970s.  I learned to double-clutch in a 1970 El Camino with a 454 cc engine and a heavy-duty Hurst four-speed transmission.  I paid attention as the apex of a curve was explained to me and I practiced until I it was second nature to power out of a turn and brake only on a straightaway. The valves of my own 1969 VW beetle were bored out as far as they would go.  I tricked out my little car with flared fiberglass fenders, Appliance mag wheels, an external oil cooler, a Monza dual exhaust, V.D.O. gauges, wood trim and fully reclining Porsche Targa touring seats.  I could beat Hondas in that little Volkswagen.  And I did on a regular basis.  But I digress.

On Sunday, May 27th, Tom and Sally invited as many of our old gang as they could find to reunite at a party at their lovely mountain home.  A few couldn't make it but, with spouses, those of us who could numbered over sixty.  We came from all over the state to their custom-built abode in Foresthill, California, set deep in the Sierra Nevada range between Sacramento and Lake Tahoe.  On a wide wooden deck overlooking steep canyons and high peaks thick with pines, a fantastic two-man acoustic rock group called The Doubleshots (http://www.thedoubleshots.com/) held forth, entertaining us with splendid renditions of 1970s rock tunes and folk ballads. Guests searched for classmates through high school yearbooks dating from 1967 through 1974 and perused a slide show of motorcycle races, costume parties and other outings we all attended in our youth.
                                                   
I probably traveled the furthest, having come clear from the east coast, but many made the trip despite significant health issues and other concerns, the desire to reconnect with our roots was so strong.  The meal was potluck, so food was plentiful and delicious.  Wine and beer flowed.  People were agog at Tom's five-car garage, outfitted with hydraulic lifts and compressed air, an extensive tool collection and a closet full of motorcycle leathers and other gear, all of it so spotless we could have eaten off the gleaming floor.  We dropped our jaws at the astounding view from every window in the well-appointed home. We danced.  And talked.  And reminisced about the old days and those no longer with us.  These were people who had played a significant role in my life during my teens.  I hadn't seen most of them in almost forty years. I don't remember when I've had a better time at a party.

Although I was invited to stay at Tom and Sally's home for the weekend, they had their hands full with other out-of-towners who needed a place to lay their heads, so I accepted the gracious invitation of my dear high school girlfriend, Becky to stay with her, her husband and their sons, at their lovely home in El Dorado, California, nestled in the Sierra Nevada foothills about an hour from Tom and Sally's.  On the day of the party, another high school chum, Lily, joined me in Becky's car as we snaked our way along highway 49, watching scrub oak give way to evergreen as our elevation climbed.  

For the party, I wore a pair of vintage red Levi's straight-leg jeans, a simple floral-patterned ribbed tank top, and beaded, wood-heeled sandals by BCBGeneration.  I received lots of compliments on my attire. Once I was safely tucked into bed back at Becky's after the party, I fell asleep to the haunting serenade of wailing coyotes.

In the vineyard at Iverson Winery in Somerset, California

The next day, I awoke to roosters crowing in the pre-dawn light and I rose early to hike through the foothills before anyone else was out of bed. During my hour-long sojourn, I came across a female peacock with seven chicks pecking in the scrub.  Later, while traversing a meadow along the highway, I watched a large wild turkey display his fully-arrayed tail feathers for two nearby females.  Jackrabbits the size of small dogs bounded through the brush.  Eventually a neighborly highway patrolman slowed his patrol car to tell me, jokingly, that he'd had a report that I was "walking too fast".  I laughed and explained that it was the best way I knew to burn off all the calories I had consumed the day before.  He instructed me to carry on and drove off with a friendly wave.

Becky, her husband Bruce, me and Bruce's parents, Gretel and George

Later, Becky and I perused antique shops in old town Placerville and visited a number of wineries in the area, happily sampling their offerings.  In the late afternoon, we ended up at the home of Becky's wonderful in-laws in Apple Hill, George and Gretel, whom I also had not seen in many years.  It was George's 86th birthday, and the lovely and eternally youthful Gretel had prepared a delectable spread for thirteen of us as if it was no trouble at all.  George gave me a tour of his extensive garden and then we sat down to an incredible meal, capped off with a festive birthday cake - and more wine.

Preparing dinner at George and Gretel's home

The plane trip home from Sacramento to Baltimore the next day was mostly uneventful. I spent the time reminiscing about the spectacular weekend I had just enjoyed, nurtured by friendships born long ago which were rekindled in these past 72 hours as if there had not been a separation of several decades.  The fellowship among the kindred spirits of our youth runs deep. I feel re-connected to my roots and am delighted to be in touch with so many people who helped form the person I am today. It was a wonderful Memorial Day weekend.
Cheers,
Lynell

Fluffy Scarf

Today called for rain and thunderstorms, although the temperature would climb into the high 70s, so I wouldn’t need any outerwear. How to look cool and spring-y and yet be prepared for inclement weather during my lengthy commute to the Library of Congress in Washington D.C.?

Enter my new, fluffy "statement" scarf, a purchase from the "gift tent" at the Baltimore Symphony Designer Show House I visited on Saturday. It’s got everything I had been looking for in an of-the-moment wrap: neutral white, cream, gray and charcoal wear-with-anything colors, delightful fringe at the ends, knots of poufy yarn along its considerable length, and loads of interesting texture, yet so lightweight and sheer that I hardly notice it around my neck.

I paired the boa-like cloth with an ecru tank top by Karen Scott from Macy’s and injected a shot of color by donning vintage straight-leg wrangler jeans in a violet hue that I’ve owned since the 1970s. I finished the look with cream-colored, jute-wedge sandals by Boutique 9, dangly Stauer ruby earrings that were a birthday gift from my best friend’s mother, Joyce, a black and gold seashell fashion ring handmade by an artisan at last year’s Renaissance Festival, and some seashell bracelets I picked up in Nassau last October.

I felt bright and breezy in my outfit, just like the day! And, perhaps because of my fluffy new scarf, the rain held off until I was safely home from my travels.

Cheers,

Lynell

Baltimore Symphony Decorators' Show House

Saturday fulfilled a wish I’ve had for a long time: to see a decorator show-house. You know, a stately old home that some wealthy benefactor has decreed to a worthy cause, which then spends the next six months having every room under its noble roof gussied up by local designers, only to be put on display before an adoring public who pays the price of a ticket to see the over-the-top transformation. I had never been to a decorator show-house and was anxious to see what one looked like, imagining outrageously outfitted rooms adjoining others with no binding chemistry between them – each designed to the unique taste and interpretation of the person charged with its gussying.

And, in a way, that’s exactly what I got when I purchased two tickets to the 36^th annual Baltimore Symphony Decorators’ Show House, the Eck home at Cromwell Valley Park in Towson, Maryland. As luck would have it, Saturday was the only day I could attend the event, so I invited my good friend Paula, a Maryland Wildlife and Heritage Service biologist with the state’s Natural Heritage Program, to accompany me. Paula, too, had never been to a designer show-house and was eager to check out the scene, especially the landscaping, since native plants are her professional forte.

For this auspicious occasion, I chose an "artsy" outfit: a simple lace-bordered tank top by Eyeshadow over a pair of vintage brown leggings by Jacques Moret that I purchased in the 1980s when I lived in California and leggings were still referred to as tights. I dressed up the simple brown camisole with a brown asymmetrical coverlet in a loosely-woven knit adorned with soft pink fabric roses which I found at the American Crafts Council art show in Baltimore several years ago. On my feet I wore scrunchy brown suede boots with fold-over cuffs by Wendi which I purchased on clearance at Designer Shoe Warehouse (DSW) last weekend. In honor of the Preakness race, set for later that evening, I added a hand-painted horse pendant with topaz and citrine gemstones and matching earrings from Fire & Ice Jewelers (http://www.fireandice.com/) which were a birthday gift to me from my friends, Jan and Robert, a few years back.

The show-house was fascinating, and although the rooms were, indeed, decorated to the individual designer’s tastes, there was an unexpected cohesiveness from room to room – perhaps in part because each was so "over-the-top". The master bedroom, done in blue and white (my own bedroom colors) with a seashore theme, was a favorite, so I was surprised when I saw that it was decorated by a friend of mine, Carol Grillo (Carol Grillo Designs -- carolgrillo@gmail.com). Carol put her own stamp on the room, right down to the stunning ocean painting over the fireplace mantel, a Carol Grillo original. I was impressed.

After browsing a "gift shop" set up on the premises beneath a huge white tent, where I was pleased to find not one, but two early Christmas gifts for friends, and after narrowly missing an exploding lightbulb in the catered luncheon area which caused its own white tent to erupt in flames, Paula and I decided we’d had enough excitement for one day and boarded the shuttle bus back to the car.

What a day!

Cheers,

Lynell

LaDew Garden Tour

As has been our custom for a half dozen years now, my girlfriend, Jan, and I took a day off from work on the third Thursday in May to participate in a tour of elegant gardens hosted by, and for the benefit of, LaDew Topiary Gardens in Monkton, Maryland, of which I am a longtime patron. For this occasion I chose to mix old with new, pairing a rhinestone-embellished tank top and simple black sweater by International Concepts for Macy’s, which I purchased last year, with a pair of vintage leggings by Rainbeau Bodywear, which my mother bought for me when I was a teenager back in the early 1970s. I added a wide-brimmed straw sun hat I bought at the Maryland Home and Garden Show, and strappy black Aerosoles sandals that were a gift from my best friend, Kari, in Dallas, and was ready to take on the town – or garden in this case.

The tour’s choice of days could not have been more spectacular. A cold front came in the night before, blowing away heat and humidity and leaving in its wake an absolutely perfect day: deep blue sky, a delightful temperature with a mild breeze (70 degrees F.) and brilliant sunshine lighting up the foliage and flowers at every garden we visited.

There were six properties on the tour this year, and all were up in York, Pennsylvania, a short drive from my home in Baltimore, Maryland. The first stop was Black Run Farm, a faithful reproduction of a colonial farmstead in the 1770s, featuring a springhouse and pond, kitchen garden, outdoor "beehive" bake-oven and smokehouse, among other buildings.

The second site, at the Millbourne estate, was a fifty-acre wonderland of visual delights, including a perennial hillside, pool with conservatory, secret gardens and more. Jan and I were mesmerized by the beauty of each new vignette as we followed winding wooded paths through acre after acre of diverse landscaping.

At our last stop, Yorktowne Farms, we were captivated by more than thirty sets of Standardbred mares and foals, all born within the last few weeks, basking and frolicking in the dazzling sunshine. Week-old babies cavorted together, their moms keeping close watch, in one pen, while older foals and their mothers grazed in an adjacent paddock. When we finally dragged ourselves away from the horses, a leisurely walk across the picturesque property led us to an 19^th century lime kiln with a 25-foot waterfall tumbling beneath a charming gazebo.

So entranced was I by the beauty of the day that I went directly to my local garden store following the tour and spent the rest of my afternoon planting annuals and herbs at my own humble abode. It was a perfect day.

Cheers,

Lynell

The "Patty Fielder" Look

I reprised my "Patty Fielder look" again today for my commute to the Library of Congress, only this time I accessorized with more casual, "beachy" jewelry: a stretchy bracelet of tiny seashells that I purchased in the Bahamas a few months ago, some cream and gold enameled earrings I’ve had for almost 30 years, and a gold crab pendant with a large pearl "shell" that was a birthday gift from my good friend, Pete, back in the 1980s when we were dating in California.

You will recall from my previous post that my taupe and cream "duster" with intricately embroidered cutwork and scallop-edged trim by Marcia & Me & Co. was a purchase I made decades ago when I lived in Dallas, Texas. At the time, my immediate supervisor at the Dallas law firm where I work was an impeccably dressed woman named Patty Fielder who made these tea-length dusters her signature wardrobe statement. I was inspired by how elegant these garments looked on my boss, so I found one for myself, which is how it got its unusual name. Paired with beige slacks by Calvin Klein and a cream camisole from Karen Scott, I think my finished outfit looks quite chic.

Instead of pumps, today I wore cream leather and jute-wedged sandals by Boutique 9, which I found on a clearance rack at Macy’s last year. I added a cream leather envelope clutch and was ready to greet my day – Patty Fielder style!

Cheers,

Lynell

Spa Day

In honor of my dear friend, Jan’s, birthday, I treated both of us to a "spa day" this weekend. Swathed in sheets of thick cotton, Jan and I settled in for a day of pampering at an elegant holistic health spa belonging to the sister of a mutual friend.

The proprietor of Shala’s Holistic Wellness center in Cockeysville, Maryland (410-683-1515), Shala Kamoee Barfar, who was originally trained as a physical therapist in Germany, gave each of us an hour-long, deeply satisfying, full-body massage. Then, between sips of pinot grigio and delectable bites of cheese and strawberries, we were treated to luxurious facials by Shala’s sister, Shabnam, who steamed our pores clean, applied exquisite exfoliating masques, slathered us in dreamy moisturizers and then applied our makeup with an expert hand.

Talk about being spoiled! The aromatherapy alone was worth the price of admission – the scent of each cream more ethereal than the last. Indeed, our entire experience at Shahla’s salon was top-notch from beginning to end. I highly recommend Shala’s for a transformationally soothing encounter with your peaceful self.

Once Jan and I were thoroughly relaxed from our massages, with supple skin and fabulous makeup, we repaired to our respective homes to dress for the evening. Coming together again a few hours later at the hot new downtown restaurant "Wit And Wisdom", inside the Four Seasons Hotel in the Harbour East section of Baltimore, we were joined by six friends for a dinner celebration of three birthdays in our group.

For the occasion, I donned a beige Karen Scott camisole and Calvin Klein slacks from Macy’s as a foil for a taupe and cream "duster" with intricately embroidered cutwork and scallop-edged trim by Marcia & Me & Co. that I purchased decades ago when I lived in Dallas, Texas. At the time, the head of my department at the Dallas law firm by which I am still employed was a stylish woman who made these tea-length dusters her signature wardrobe statement. I was in awe of the elegance these garments imparted to their wearer and how chic they looked on her. I was determined to find one for myself. And I did. So, in honor of my one-time supervisor, now long since retired, I call this frock my "Patty Fielder duster". I wore the graceful, flowing cloth Saturday night with twisted freshwater pearls from the Winterthur mansion gift shop in Delaware and cream and tan spectator pumps by Aldo.

The meal at Wit & Wisdom was superb. Jan and I, our dewy complexions all aglow, basked in the warmth of loving friends gathered together to celebrate the passage of another year of living on this amazing planet. The evening, indeed, the entire day, was a wonderful, restful, rejuvenating reaffirmation of how lucky we are to have such love, friendship, and yes, blissful pampering, in our lives.

Cheers,

Lynell

Ember Returns

I was ecstatic Saturday morning to welcome my sweet little rescue kitty, Ember, home from her three weeks of post-surgery recuperation at the foster-care facility. Ember underwent what was hopefully the final surgery in a long string of procedures designed to repair and close the severe wounds inflicted upon her tiny, four-pound body when she was doused with lighter fluid and set afire about nine months ago by a juvenile in Baltimore city.

Surgeons were able to close all but a small portion of the gaping wound on her back, and almost all of the sutures were removed Saturday before she was delivered back to my doorstep with instructions to allow her to romp and play with my cats and her toys to her heart’s content, as her two weeks in a post-surgical isolation crate have finally come to an end.

Indeed, Ember seems happier and more at peace this time – perhaps there was chronic pain before which has subsided now that she is all stitched up. In any event, I am very happy to have her back in my loving care. As for my two current occupants, Ember seems more friendly to them this time around, not quite so guarded and defensive as before. Ember is still not ready to engage in play, but she is running all over the house exploring every nook and cranny without regard to the whereabouts of other four-legged inhabitants now, which I take as a positive sign. When she comes across one of my two, Ember just scoots right past them with only a tiny snarl or hiss instead of the prolonged warnings she broadcast the last time she was here.

I am very pleased with this marked improvement in the feline relations of my household, and am delighted to have Ember back in my home and in my heart.

Cheers,

Lynell

The Golden Egg of "Family"

Today started out ordinarily enough. I dressed for my commute to the Library of Congress in dark blue Levi’s Perfectly Slimming 512 boot-cut jeans I bought on sale at Macy’s this week for $13 (!!) and paired them with a new blue and white tie-dyed rayon International Concepts (INC) top that was also on sale. Couldn’t resist when last week’s jeans purchase fit so well (also bought another pair in white).

I accessorized with delicate sapphire and diamond hoop-earrings from Zale's Jewelers that my best friend, Kari, bought me for my birthday (sapphire is my birthstone), a silver-metal filigree watch I found at the Dallas airport, and a couple of blue fashion rings I picked up on a "girls’ weekend getaway" to Las Vegas. This may be a blog about vintage fashion, but there wasn’t a single piece of vintage clothing on me today. That didn’t stop me from going way, way back in time, however.

With my sturdy Studio Paolo high-heeled loafers from JCPenney on my feet, I set out for a routine visit to the Library of Congress in Washington D.C. to do research for my employer of 18 years. The commute and my research were uneventful. But as I returned to my car in the vast parking lot of the subway station for the drive home after work, I came across the most adorable family of Canada geese and goslings you’ve ever seen. As they waddled toward my car, the brood looked like they were searching for a ride home.  A delightful harbinger of spring, it didn’t hurt that the weather was gorgeous, with puffy clouds moving swiftly across a brilliant sky. I took my "goose encounter" as a sign of even more good things to come.

On the drive home from work, I stopped at a retirement village only six miles from my home in Baltimore County, where I was determined to meet a second cousin I hadn’t known until recently was living so close to me. I credit this blog for the discovery!

Apparently, just a few weeks ago, David Plymyer, who is the grandson of my grandmother, Hester’s, brother, Sargent Plymer, was looking into his family roots and googled my grandmother’s name. A post I published about my grandmother last November happened to pop up. Intrigued that he had stumbled upon a relative here in Maryland, David posted a comment on my blog, telling me about his parents and how nearby they lived to me.

Lynell with Jay and Edith Plymyer

I couldn’t resist. I wanted to meet these kin I had no idea were only a few miles away all these years. So I found the retirement village today and knocked on the apartment door of my second cousin, Jay Plymyer, and his darling wife, Edith, who have been married 65 years. Boy were they ever surprised to learn who I was! Jay suffers from Parkinson’s disease, which limits his speech, so Edith filled me in on their branch of the family and caught me up to date on their children and grandchildren. A neighbor in an apartment down the hall snapped this photo of the three of us before I bid them adieu so they could go eat their supper. It was a delightful visit, topped off by my promise to return with a photo album chock full of snapshots of the Plymyer family taken in York, Pennsylvania in the early 1900s (my grandmother was born in 1893), and other fun artifacts I think they will enjoy seeing.

What a fantastic day!

Cheers,

Lynell

Tie-Dye Duo

The art of tie-dyeing, a process of resist-dyeing textiles by folding material into a pattern, securing the folds with string or rubber bands and then applying different colored dyes to the exposed parts of the fabric, had been fully developed by China and Japan as early as the sixth century AD. It became popular in America in the 1960s during the hippie movement, and has recently made a resurgence into current fashion. While some tie-dye patterns are quite lovely, the wild and often discordant colors of 1970s tie-dye fashions never really appealed to me.

Last week, however, I succumbed to the lure of a rayon top in a simple black and white tie-dyed pattern embellished with sparkly studs by International Concepts (INC) for Macy’s. I had been casting about for something casual but festive to wear on a plane trip to the west coast. Specifically, I was in search of some black boot-cut jeans that I could dress up or down as I pleased. Macy’s happened to fill the bill there, as well, by having in stock a pair of high-waisted "Perfectly Slimming" Levi’s 512 boot-cut black jeans in my size. These comfortable jeans had a smattering of sparkly studs on the back pockets, so when I spied the black and white tie-dyed INC top with similar adornment a few minutes later, I couldn’t resist putting an outfit together out of both garments.

Back at home, I washed and dried the jeans in an effort to shrink them just a bit, and still had to use my sewing machine to take them in at the waist about an inch. In the end, I had a perfectly fitting pair of new black jeans to take me to the west coast and through the summer months ahead, and a fun, tie-dyed top to wear with black or white pants and shorts.

I put the black jeans and the tie-dyed top together today for my commute to the Library of Congress, and added some black and crystal beaded necklaces, bracelet and earrings that had belonged to my grandmother. My heirloom costume jewelry was the only thing I wore today that was not recently purchased. My bracelet watch is from a store at the Dallas airport, the stretchy bracelet of black stones is a local find, and my high-heeled loafers are Studio Paolo for JCPenney. No matter. My pulled together look might draw inspiration from across the decades, but today it was one hundred percent modern.

Cheers,

Lynell

Cinco de Mayo

It was my distinct pleasure to fly to Spokane, Washington, from my home in Baltimore this weekend to attend a party for my best friend Kari’s father’s 80^th birthday. As Lyle’s birthday, and the party, fell on Cinco de Mayo, which marks a Mexican military victory over an invading French army in the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862, it was Kari’s mom, Joyce’s, idea to plan a festive surprise fete with a Mexican theme.

In the weeks leading up to the party, I did some shopping in search of something fabulous to wear on the big day. And indeed, on one such foray I spied a perfect dress in an exclusive boutique among the trendy Green Spring Station shops in Baltimore County. It was white eyelet, with a peasant blouse neckline. Perfect, except for the $350 price tag.

Discouraged, I decided to make a thorough review of my own closet to see if I could put together something appropriate with a Latin theme from garments I already owned. A floor-length broomstick skirt with a peasant top and a tooled leather belt, perhaps. As I flipped purposefully through one dress after another, nothing jumped out at me as suitable, let alone fabulous.

Then I saw THE DRESS. The tea-length frock was hand-made for me by my grandmother in the 1970s from a pattern she used to make a similar dress for my mother back in 1945. At the time the original dress was made, my mother was in her mid 30s, single, and employed at Cal Tech Pasadena, working as a civilian draftsman on top secret blueprints for the Navy. She wouldn’t meet and marry my dad for another eight years.

My mother’s original cotton dress featured tiny "lifesavers" in primary colors embroidered all over the crisp white fabric. At 5’ 6" and with enviable proportions, my mother cut an impressive figure in those days. The men in the drafting room called her "the body". She told tales of wearing that dress and having her fellow draftsmen trace circles in the colorful eyelet holes with their pencils.

"Lifesaver" dress, June 1988

The "lifesaver" dress was eventually handed down to me. With its a plunging neckline, it was just a bit too risqué to wear to work at JCPenney although, Heaven knows, I probably would have sold more televisions in my 12-year career there had I been able to give my sales pitch in that outfit. As it was, I did dare to wear it on my last day at JCPenney in 1988, when I was presented with a going-away cake by the store manager. After all, what were they going to do, fire me?

I adored the "lifesaver" dress and wore it until the cotton was so frayed that it threatened to spontaneously decombust. Before that happened, however, I asked my grandmother to make me another one from the same pattern. When she surprised me with the completed garment several months later, I was dismayed that the reincarnation evoked a completely different style. Fabricated in a cheery windowpane plaid of black with spring pastels and trimmed in an intricate loopbraid rick-rack, the new version featured a ruched bust with a far more modest, peasant-style neckline which could be worn on or off the shoulders. I didn’t betray my disappointment to my grandmother, but I never wore the dress.

Fast forward to 2012. Both my mother and my grandmother are long gone. But here was the plaid dress so lovingly made by my grandmother’s hand back in the 1970s, hanging in my closet under a vinyl cover to protect it from the ravages of time. Made in classic 1940s style with fitted darts and a hidden side zipper, I slipped it over my head. It was a perfect fit. Worn off the shoulders, it would suit the Cinco de Mayo theme beautifully. I didn’t have to go shopping, after all.

I found a pair of Aldo platform T-straps in my closet with ecru macramé covering the vamps and rustic wood heels that would complement the dress but not compete with it. To my suitcase I added a spray of black fabric flowers for my hair and turquoise jewelry to keep with the Latin theme.

Once in Spokane, a group of us girls helped Kari’s mother prepare the hotel’s banquet room for the party. We adorned surfaces with adorable donkey piñatas and colorful mariachis. We tied festive balloons to weighted sprays heralding "happy 80^th birthday!" at the center of every table. We prepared baskets of stick-on mustaches to hand out to the men and colorful necklaces of beads with red peppers to hand out to the women. Then we all retreated to our hotel rooms to get ready.

Lyle's 80th birthday party was a raging success. Believing he was attending a small Cinco de Mayo luncheon hosted by Joyce’s employer, Lyle was completely surprised when he walked into the banquet room and was greeted by a crowd numbering well over 100 who immediately started singing "happy birthday".  As beer and wine flowed, guests feasted on carved beef and sautéed chicken breasts, potato and pasta salads, an array of cheeses and crudités, and a fabulous chocolate birthday cake.

I was gleeful in my vintage plaid dress, happy that I found the perfect thing to wear, but excited most of all to be sharing such a special day with my best friend and her wonderful family.
¡Feliz cumpleaños papa!
Lynell

Fly Away Home...

The old nursery rhyme begins innocently enough: Ladybug, ladybug fly away home… but it ends with devastating consequences for the ladybug’s offspring. Not so for the adorable ladybug adorning this cheery combed-cotton top by Escargot Sportswear that my sister, Leslie, gave me for my birthday last year.

Fortunately, I happened to have a pair of vintage yellow cotton trousers by TJ Madison that I purchased in the 1980s in northern California to pair with the sunny top. I love the flat front placket of these interesting pants and the contrast of the nipped waist with the loose hips and tapered ankles. Very comfortable, and perfect to pair with my gold "gem"-encrusted gladiator sandals by Rampage for Macy’s and a skinny, stud-embellished belt from Kohl's. I added delicate "dream-catcher" earrings with yellow feathers that were hand made for me by my native-American friend, Frankie Hanson, in Reno, Nevada, in the early 1990s, a stretchy bracelet of gold faux tortoise-shell sections that I picked up in the Bahamas last October, and a natural braided-hair headband that I found at Sephora last weekend.

Determined to inject some bright, sunshiny color into my commute to the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C. on a drizzly, gray Thursday, by all accounts, I was successful.  By the time I boarded the subway train for the commute back to Maryland, the clouds had parted and the temperature had warmed considerably.

Last night, on the eve of my own turn to fly away "home" to my best friend Kari’s parents’ house in Spokane, Washington, to attend a surprise celebration of Kari’s father’s 80^th birthday, my hairdresser commented, upon seeing my sunny outfit, that I "have good taste" in clothes. It was a wonderful complement to end a bright, sunny day!

Cheers,

Lynell

Goddess of Flowers

Known as a "cross-quarter" day, May Day is related to the Celtic festival of Beltane and the Germanic festival of Walpurgis Night, as it falls exactly half a year from November 1, another cross-quarter day, and was traditionally an occasion for raucous celebrations. In pre-Christian European cultures, May 1^st was originally the first day of summer, highlighted by the festival of Flora, the Roman goddess of flowers.

The reformed Catholic calendar notes May 1^st as the "Feast of St. Joseph", the patron saint of workers, because seeding of the crops had been completed by this date and it was convenient to give farm laborers a day off. This is how May Day came to be associated with workers’ rights. Here in the United States, May 1^st is Law Day, meant as a day to reflect on the role of law in the foundation of our country and to recognize its importance for society.

How fitting, then, that I, who have labored at law firms across four states over the past 24 years, should honor this day by donning my favorite spring dress of sheer rayon covered with pink roses and other spring flowers on a deep Navy background. I’ve been waiting for a chance to wear this floral confection once the weather warmed, and today, the first day of May, just happened to reach 80 degrees. This feminine piece with a sweetheart neckline was perfect for my long commute to the Library of Congress in Washington, D.C.

I can remember the day I bought this dress. I had been working at JCPenney in northern California for several years as I put myself through college in the mid-1970s. Although my domain was the high-end electronics department, I frequently haunted the women’s fashion area to see what new styles had arrived. There it was, this lovely slip-on by Starina, hanging on a rack of new arrivals. I was smitten the moment I tried it on. And there were others. I ended up with three similar floral dresses, all of which I still own. I will be showing them off to you as summer progresses.

Today, I added ecru macramé peep-toe T-straps with wooden heels from Aldo and an old-fashioned necklace and earrings of pink beads that had belonged to my grandmother. I complemented my outfit with a pink Dea Dread by Thea Osato of Baltimore (http://DeaDreads.etsy.com) for my hair and a gold-metal bracelet-watch from Chico’s for my wrist to complete today’s look.

I can remember dancing around a Maypole in elementary school to celebrate May Day back in the early 1960s, and somewhere in my memory is a recollection of exchanging baskets of flowers and candy with other schoolchildren. Alas, no basket of sweets was left on my doorstep today, but I was not without flowers, as I wore them all over!

Tanz in den Mai!

Lynell