Wednesday, December 5, 2007
My dad is a photographer. He teaches photography, film making and video at a local college. I spent my childhood being thoroughly photographically documented, even playing kid parts in his students' films. My brother went into movie production. I have two digital cameras in my house, one small n'sleek, one big n'complex, even unto a fish-eye lens. My husband is nimble with both. So why don't I even know how to upload photos? Clearly, if I am to be a blogger and not just a diarist (and finally post parts of my vast vintage trove to EBay like I've been saying for ages, natch), this situation will have to be remedied. I've long read and admired style blogs wherein the author posts daily or weekly wardrobe shots - I've even let most of my fashion magazine subscriptions lapse, because, let's face it, style is more interesting than fashion, and the web has it in spades, as the links I will shortly be posting to my favorite style contemplators amply demonstrate. Plus, I just love clothes and all forms of self-adornment, I like my own style, and I have a selective memory, so keeping my own record will hopefully be self-illuminating (as well as giving my sister an easy way to shop my closet from across the country). I've been collecting vintage clothes, jewelry and textiles since I was twelve, when my grandmother, the real GlamaRuth, opened up her closets to me. She was classic movie star gorgeous, petite like me (though some of her wasp-waisted pieces fit me in high school and never will again, without the aid of some serious vintage corsetry and girdling!), had stellar taste, and never, I emphasize, never threw anything away. This is, I am afraid, genetic. I have shoes and even some clothes from as far back as eighth grade and high school (no pants or anything too tailored though - I didn't get hips until mid-way through college), the first time grunge came around. I do still on occasion pull out my bottle green Na-na boots and I. Goldberg overdyed military finery, and every trend that has come down the pike in the last decade or so has found it's analog already in my closet, where most of the items are older than I am, needing only a bit of restyling to look better than whatever the knock-off shops have. Which would work to justify my clothing pack-rat tendencies (I prefer "archiving") if I didn't also adore the thrill of the new! I assuage my conscience by mostly buying second hand or vintage, and bargain hunting, as well as by running a sartorial lending library for mom, sister, and friends, and, as soon as I figure out how to actually use a digital camera, the aforementioned EBaying.