Let's try something a little different!

Okay, let's try this.  I wanted to do something picture-heavy and topical today, but I'm not in the mood to code a Treasury Wednesday (on Friday), so let's play clothing-and-jewelry pairings.  I don't get to do this much in real life, since I'm the youngest of my coworkers in a fairly conservative area, so virtual dress-up it is.

For the pretty base pieces in this post, I'm using Maxi dresses from Goddiva.  Just in the interests of disclosure.

Let's start with this little mesh-insert number, which -- yes -- is sort of daring for many people, but could easily go sci-fi (Inara cosplay, anyone?) to pull it off:



It's actually transparent, not silver; that's the mannequin.  Which leaves us with any metal option we desire.  How shall we make this fantastic?  I'm thinking with a big steampunk statement necklace like this one:


Sorry, sold to a pretty lady at Upstate Steampunk!

And maybe a jeweled belt, like this nice vintage example, which would suit either the teal or the red version of the dress and, in either case, introduces another high-contrast color that would be fantastic in a draped shawl, or as earrings:

Available here from Nana's Cottage House Antiques.

Instant sleek space-opera sci-fi -- or maybe even bustle it up over a constrast underskirt and see what happens.

Less costume and more couture, you say?  Fine.  Look at this peacock-patterned garment:



You could actually wear this under a waist-length leather jacket and calf-high boots, and have a bit more of a casual-elegant look on a spring day.  Try it with a necklace that adds more visual weight to the top half of the ensemble. For this purpose, I can't decide if I prefer the knotted linen from Grey Heart of Stone on the top or the repurposed bridle rosette from Funkyjunkmama below:



Probably the bridle rosette.  It picks up the colors attractively without blending in, and has a sturdier, heavier look that will contrast well with the dress's airiness.  Hey, both!  No?

On warmer days, this dress of course demands a light shrug and a cool big bracelet like this one:


Available here with matching earrings here.

Seven Weird Colors and the Sellers Who Love Them

As may have become obvious to everyone, I have a massive thing for color names.  Here are some colors from Wikipedia's list with cool names, cool backstories, or both, and the Etsy items that are tagged with them:

The color: International orange, which appears in a number of service organizations' marks and on World Football League balls.
The item: Seven sellers have tagged eight total items as International Orange.

This hand-braided Maharan wool rug by mrsginther, who also has a great profile page, warns your friends of narrow stripes of high-atmosphere conditions.


The color: Fallow, one of the oldest color names in the English language, referring to the sandy soil of a fallowing field.
The item: It took some manual counting due to synonyms and misspellings of "follow," but there about 26 handmade items tagged with this color.

The porcelain Lucitano horse ornament by SandrasShop reminds your equestrian of his equally old and proud tradition.


The color: Mountbatten pink, invented as a naval camouflage color that only worked part of the day.
The item: Only one item tagged with this!

This crocheted poncho by HEraMade lets you blend in with crocheted naval sunsets.


The color: Fulvous, which chiefly describes birds and means "kind of tawny rufous burnt reddish orangish yellowish grayish, kind of."
The item: Seven sellers tag one item apiece with this color.

This print of an original acrylic breastfeeding painting by h0neyburn uses the name to describe the color of the outline of a well-fed toddler.  h0neyburn uses a lot of these color names; I keep seeing her stuff pop up as I search.


The color: Isabelline, apocryphally named after Isabella I of Castile, who vowed not to change her underwear until her husband had broken a seige; victory unfortunately took eight months, at which time her small-clothes were understandably no longer snowy white.  Isabelline or Isabella palominos, the very pale-colored specimens of cream-gene horses, are named for this tint.
The item: A whopping 39 items are tagged with the color name isabelline.

This plump crocheted heart by Sabahnur looks nice and clean against your hair on a headband, and if you have a cream palomino, you can match!


The color: Falu red, which is after a paint made of starch and very finely divided hematite, and is used to paint traditional Swedish homes -- a bit like haint blue here in the South.
The item: Five sellers use this color to tag a total of 11 items.

This set of twelve organza blossoms brings traditional Old World color to your modern garment.


The color: Urobilin, named for the organic pigment responsible for the color of urine (yum!).
The items: Four sellers win the "I didn't note the Latinate root" award, and perhaps ironically, all four items are so lovely I couldn't pick just one.

The elegant vintage-style glass and dyed jade necklace by thebeadedhound will have part of its proceeds donated to coonhound rescue.  The set of 8 shabby chic hairpins by hbs1406 are stunningly photographed and would be gorgeous for a fall wedding.

A Review of Pottermore by Someone Unaffiliated with Sony

So, as longtime readers have certainly grasped by now, I have something of a love for Harry Potter.  I spoke on gendered intepretations of the broomstick as symbol in modern literature at the 2009 convention; here's some of the massive amount of Potter-inspired jewelry I've made (please excuse the older photos):





So it will surprise no one that M and I were among those who fought for a place in the beta for Pottermore, which is supposed to be an interactive companion to the books containing more information about minor characters, ghost plots, and other things that weren't told in detail within the scope of the series.

Overall, we've found it interesting but disappointing.  Most of the problem is in the advertising.  There was a massive amount of hype for this -- website countdowns, early announcements, competitions for early-admission spots -- and it was not made entirely clear whether this was a game, or a bunch of illustrations, or an interactive ebook ... or what.

It's set up like a collection of illustrations tied to a social-media game.  There are quizzes to take and House points to earn, and there are some little side games, like potion-brewing and spellcasting.  However, the actual game bits tend to be buggy and unresponsive, partly because the servers clearly weren't ready when early registration was first opened and partly because, well, it's in beta.  But ... there's nowhere to give specific feedback.  There's a generalized feedback form that asks you to give a one-to-four rating of how it works, how it looks, and "how you're liking Pottermore so far," but no way to say "When you try to make the Herbicide Potion, the worm mucus isn't clickable; you just pick up the Valerian if you try."  Which you'd think would be the important thing about doing a beta run.  It's starting to feel like all they really wanted was a demographic survey.

The ... I don't even know what to call it, because it's not a game or an ebook or anything really ... Pottermore is unquestionably beautiful.  Each chapter of the book has two or three corresponding "moments" you can access through the ... here we go again ... through Pottermore, and each "moment" has a multi-layered artwork.  Chapter thirteen, the one with Norbert the dragon in it, is absolutely breathtaking. 

And yet there's nothing to do.  You get to collect books and objects throughout the scenes (though in the really lovely chapter, there's not a damn thing to pick up ... and you still end up having to look), but there's no competitive aspect -- it doesn't really penalize you for not finding the jellybeans on the train -- and there's no reward for finding everything.  A few things, when you click on them, will unlock interesting extra information that's been written for the ... for Pottermore.  For instance, there's an entire biography of Professor McGonagall that you pick up over the course of the story, a few paragraphs for every chapter in which she appears.  This is quite worthwhile for people who enjoy the series.  There's not a lot of information -- there's a lot less than the advertising suggested there would be -- but it's worth playing through for it.

Yet the social-media aspect of the ... thing ... seems to imply that it was imagined that people would sink time and effort into Pottermore.  Would return daily to try to earn House points.  But the part that was hyped, the companion to the books, takes less than a day to "play" or "read" or "work" through per book.  And here's the rub -- the books open one at a time.

At this point, the only thing I'm returning daily to do is to check whether the next book has opened up.  Sometimes I try to make a potion, but the timing on this requires you to either find 90 minutes of stuff to do in Pottermore (difficult) or set a real-world timer (I'm resisting the nerdiness).  As of the end of August, it was still only the first book.  With overall opening slated for October, I'm not sure how they're planning to beta later book-companions at this point -- there's just no time. 

The material shows a lot of promise, but Pottermore can't decide what it is.  This cripples the game because it cannot meet the expectations raised by marketing, weakens the storytelling because the different aspects seem to have been developed at the expense of one another, and distracts from the companion information because the reader is treacherously wondering, "This is all?"

Pottermore could have been a great advance either in interactive reading, or in book-related gaming, but it tried to be both and therefore is neither.  It tried to be something new so hard that it isn't anything.  It has potential as a stepping stone, and it's still worth playing/reading/social media-ing/whatever, but don't expect your mind to be blown.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

We're a little ways back into the year now -- and incidentally, this is the part I dislike, because no one has papers yet so there are almost no students, except for the panicked older students who are expected to use technology, but aren't being taught to use it.  The other day, M and I worked with a very nice gentleman.  She taught him to make capital letters on the computer.  I taught him how a printer works.  She taught him to use the mouse.

There is a lengthy diatribe on educational priorities in here somewhere, but I will limit myself: Did it ever occur to anyone to maybe require a computer-usage placement test?  It's seemed to me since high school, when I volunteered to drive some of my friends home after they missed the bus staying late in the computer lab, that the requirement of technology usage reinforces class distinctions in educational opportunity.  Clemson University requires that every student own a laptop -- and in my current still-a-bit-under-the-weather state I can't decipher whether this fixes or exacerbates the problem.

Anyway.

We've gotten started now, but before we did, M and I went to spend a couple of days in Asheville, North Carolina, where O. Henry lived for a while.  We went on the first day to Biltmore, the Vanderbilt family's estate.  After looking at the website, I came away with the impression that it was where rich people go to buy expensive branded wines and jellies and be rich together, but M's grandmother was kind enough to give us tickets and it was absolutely and completely worth the trip.

I've been to California's Hearst Castle, which is a melange of stuff imported over the Atlantic to build a fantasy Mediterranean village -- the architect called the style of that place something like "Franco-Anglo-Arabesque-Mediterranea-Japano-Rusko-screw-the-look-whatever-my-client-wants architecture."  Biltmore was a useful companion, since it is also a very Victorian-American estate -- appropriated spoils of empire and of education, combining in a large, somewhat asymmetrical cathedral-inspired house on top of a hill -- but Biltmore is much better-designed, and you can see how people would have flowed through it, both the guests and the downstairs class.  It's useful to see how the estate would harmoniously operate.

Also, some very inspiring wallpaper-decor combinations, including some beautiful examples of using rich jewel tones to make the very Victorian damask and tapestry feel masculine -- I'd give a photo, but they apparently never release them, contributing to my previous impression that it was a fancified wealth getaway -- and some wonderful 1890s-1900s clothing was on display, including a probably Worth-inspired gown and several pieces with delightful nostalgic touches that made my inner costumer dance.

Also, this fountain:


This view of the gardens (August is not a good time for gardens in the Carolinas, but these still looked pretty good):


And this carved marble pillar from the outside, which I'd love to "translate" into a jewelry design, somehow:


As for dining in town: The Jerusalem Garden Cafe is out of this world.  We ate there the first night and went back the second.  Try their curried mango shrimp -- it's delicate and warm, not spicy, and is served over perfect couscous.  It's atmospheric and lovely, especially the floor seating, and the servers are wonderfully attentive.  Asheville's more famous Tupelo Honey Cafe, however, was terrible and not worth the wait.  M's meal, the shrimp and grits, was drenched in hot sauce (not listed on the menu) and too spicy to eat; when we remarked on it, the server suggested stirring it around a bit.  Mine was a fried chicken something-or-other and was too salty to have more than a few bites.  However, if you still want to go, the peach rosemary lemonade is delicious.

Asheville can be described like this:  If you took a mellower version of the free-spiritedness and general artsy insanity of San Francisco and fused it with the prissy exclusivity of San Diego, their hipster love child would be Asheville (two silent E's.  And it went to North Carolina.  You've probably never heard of it).  The shopping is delightful -- don't miss the Spice and Tea Exchange, where they sell ras el hanout with black pepper and hibiscus flowers, and also onion-infused sugar and powdered extract of burgundy wine.  Malaprop's Bookstore is also a must-do -- we shopped a while and then sat drinking their amazing ginger lattes for hours.  And Woolworth Walk is not to be missed -- yes, there are all kinds of little art studios down by the river, but they were like an IRL Etsy, so you might as well visit through a screen -- and also overpriced and of questionable quality.  Woolworth Walk is right in town and features some truly amazing art -- pottery, installments, and traditional.  We purchased, or rather my parents purchased us through the magic of plastic and our birthdays coming up, a piece by Brenda Marks.  It's a three-dimensional giclee over wood rendition of her photo collage "Serenity."  Here's a picture of it on our wall, but visit her site because our lighting does it no justice:


Doesn't the dark luminous aqua balance the red so very eye-catchingly?  Stunning.

Two Musings

Available here.

1.) Somewhere, there is an earring civilization.  Venerable sterling elders with French hooks advise plastic clip-ons on how to raise their feather-and-kidney-wire young to be good and productive earring citizens.  Their mythology always seems to center around the quest to find one's soulmate, becoming a perfectly matched pair -- er, couple.

2.) I was reading an out-of-date travel magazine the other day while I waited for the laundry quarters to be spent, and there was an article about the memory triggers of smell.  This is something I often tell students about their papers -- scent is the single strongest memory trigger, you can tell me about how Grandma's house at Christmas looked for three pages, but if you add three lines at strategic intervals about how it smelled, you've doubled the narrative's force.  It's inspiring in that maddening way -- if only you could make jewelry of a smell.

I'll never forget the first time I stepped out of the airport in Charlotte.  The smell of the South is like nothing else, and describing it is as hard as putting into words that waxy, fleshy sheen of a salad-plate-sized magnolia blossom, or finding the perfect metaphor for the sound a cicada makes.  Think of clean water, freshly cut grass, and an assortment of fine cigars pristine, fragrant and unsmoked in their cedar box.

Yeah.  Like that.

The garden in mid-June: Coleus, native asters, thrift and liatris and rue.

Tribal Done Right

I highly recommend that readers with an interest in ethnic-style jewelry check out the Flickr photostream of Anita Quansah London, a "designer to the stars" whose work actually completely thrills me.



Her designs are exquisite; unconventional and deconstructed in their unexpected shapes, with interesting different manners of draping to adorn more than the expected parts of the body, with a beautiful use of shells and other natural/traditional materials that is both very true to the "roots" of bodily adornment and beautifully joined with more modern materials.  Her pieces combine couture and warrior looks and are just generally stunning.

Additionally, the description on the second piece, here, is a splendid example of describing this style of jewelry without being over-the-top.  She identifies what people inspired her work -- the Masai in Kenya and Nigeria -- and makes strong but not offensive connections between ethnic traditions and modern needs -- the relationship between the use of body ornament to establish identity in various folkways and the fierce, feminine draping design of the jewelry pieces themselves.  In this way she establishes "story" and makes the jewelry feel more "ethnic" or "tribal" without ever having to resort to overusing the cliche, sometimes-offensive style names.

Treasury Wednesday: Royal Albert China

I made this treasury while M and I were planning the tea-and-jewelry party for our coworkers. M's wedding china was in the Old Country Roses pattern, which I initially disliked rather a lot, but then I actually took a close look at it -- it was hiding behind wavy panes in her grandmother's china hutch until we moved -- and realized it was red and orange, not the pink and peach I initially assumed. I still like to set it with our green and white china to mellow it a bit, but I like it now.

'Teatime: Old Country Roses' by tangopig

Inspired by the Royal Albert "Old Country Roses" china, which is growing on me.

Scrabble Tile Magne... lalucita $9.00	Small Needle Felted... kmwatkins $10.00	6 Small Fabric Cove... PatchworkMill $8.00	StayGoldMaryRose - ... StayGoldMaryRo... $49.00
Spring Flowers - Ne... VayZONE $23.00	Roses Gift Box Neut... ShannaMicheleD... $5.50	large herbal tea ki... purposedesign $40.00	Little Leaf Houses ... thelittlereddo... $28.00
Rose Water OOAK Lin... goshthatsposh $15.00	Roses Flower Hair P... apocketofposie... $18.00	Vintage Old Country... dishfunctionld... $45.00	SEPTEMBER SUNRISE H... BitsandPurses $45.00
Bouquet For Every D... sewhomegrown $35.00	Variegated kit Swee... BrotherWorks $10.99	Dollhouse Miniature... fairchildart $23.00	English Garden - 11... LaurenFaythe $75.00

Treasury tool by Red Row Studio.

Most inspiring drinky things

So, do you think the folks at the Jelly Shot Test Kitchen would mind if I turned everything they've ever photographed into a pair of earrings or a pendant?


Admire these fruity beauties!  The depth of field in this photo is just stunningly handled.  The gorgeously casual, utterly perfect tumbled look could probably be replicated with various sizes of Swarovski Cosmic Freeform Diamonds, dice beads and Simplicity cut beads:






The fruity shades and the very organic look of the skewers in these Watermelon Basil Martini Jelly Shots could be replicated with a stack of varying shapes of frosted resin and polymer clay, plus a messy, twisted spiral headpin in plastic-coated or nylon-coated wire.


These are their mimosa shots, glossy and tempting in this well-styled photo, and the minute I saw them, I thought that I could mimic that exactly with ball-end headpins worked into spirals (or, heck, just wire) supporting a stack of three lentil-shaped beads, maybe a lemon quartz or a nice glass, spaced with squares of thin yellow fabric.