Tech Moksha.

Not only am I in tech, I am in two techs at the same time. Yes, it's crazy and I haven't been sleeping much or responsibly investigating the strange smell in the fridge. In fact, a friend's recent email captures my current state perfectly; "...dirty, delirious and living in your car, yelling things out in your sleep, "Lace!", "Size 11!", "Corset!" as you nervously tic like a heroin-addled combat vet. Awesome."

However, I've reached a level beyond exhaustion and stress because this week has proved how much I love my job. Despite all the insanity, there's nothing else I'd rather be doing and things are working out great. For every time I show up at a vintage store after closing, gods open a parking space. It's karma, damn it, and it's treating me nice.

Notes From Up North

I'm currently assisting on a production of The Old Settler at Writer's Theatre in Glencoe. Tonight was a designer run, and the lighting designer commented that you always know when a show's good from the minute you see it in the rehearsal room. And this one, friends, is good.

Baby, It's Cold Outside!

It's true what they say about Chicago winter, it's bone-chilling cold. But it's also a big city, and this city girl has places to be and people to impress. I've finally found the secret. I got myself a pair of Timberland boots, ultra-cute black suede ones with a rugged sole that are waterproof and super toasty. I've been grabbing all kinds of big men's wool sweaters at thrift stores (I just found a fantastic Brooks Brothers argyle cashmere for $3) and wearing them over skinny jeans. Big wool sweaters. It's like being wrapped in a blanket all day. Warning: accessorize well so it doesn't look like you're wearing your boyfriend's clothes. Otherwise, cute boys will refrain from hitting on you and everyone else will roll their eyes with that "so that's where you were last night" look. Unless, of course, that is where you were last night.

A Vision in Plaid

I'm currently doing two projects in the 1940s, and it's such a beautiful period. This is just a bit of research to share. Enjoy.

Fab-o Chapeau

Have you ever seen such a sassy hat? I found this 40s hat at Shangri-La on Roscoe. And I'm in love.

Where the Magic Happens

Okay, first of all, I'd like to make clear that I love my job(s). But, like any love, it drives me crazy. The worst is that few people get it, thinking that freelancing and working from home means I can goof off in my pajamas all day. And while I may be in my pajamas, I still have work to do, and living and working in the same space can prove difficult. Above is the picture of my "studio" which is actually the corner of my bedroom. This is why I'm the only person over the age of twelve who has a twin bed by choice. And while things are a bit cluttered, the commute is easy and I'm already home for lunch. The pajamas help too.

Because It's Pretty

One of my dear friends is living with me for awhile, and the day she moved in, I gave her a tour de kitchen cabinets. Then she asked about the dish rag/towel system. This, I realized, rivals Soviet bureaucracy in the levels and sub-levels and exceptions (i.e. this towel is for spills, but not greasy ones, and not on the floor, this towel can be used for grease, but not meat grease, etc.). Most importantly, my vintage tea towel collection. Occasionally used to cover rising bread or soaking beans, these beauties are otherwise there just to be pretty. In my constant struggles with privilege guilt, consumerist guilt and an ever-changing comfort zone with material things, I'm coming to peace with my collections of stuff. It's there because it's pretty, and it makes me happy. I acknowledge the need for the utilitarian, but I celebrate the need for the beautiful. Drawers and drawers full of the beautiful.

Sugar n' Spice

It takes a certain brand of crazy to make a life in theatre, along with a certain set of skills and, of course, talent (we hope). But it's true that in addition to all of these things, it's a who-you-know industry. More importantly, who-you-know-and-how-much-they-like-you. I'm a pretty good person, but not the most charming or funny or interesting on the planet. Enter baked goods.

Baking is another skill in my repertoire of traditional feminine talents (that I have embraced and empowered like a good third-waver). Baked goods make people happy, happy people hire the people who baked for them. The secret to my success, friends, is good cinnamon and a lot of butter.

Strong Women, In Any Culture.

I'm doing another play set in the Middle East, always a difficult and wonderful research process. In a place where women's clothing is so often symbolic of their religion, status, and (what we Westerners consider) their oppression, I keep finding these images of incredibly strong and beautiful women.

The image is scanned from the Chicago Public Library image files, I do not have its original credit.

Love from 1967.

Ignore the haircut, love the dress.

An open letter to the hat-wearing folks of NYC:

I spent the traditional New Year's weekend with friends in New York, and it was lovely. And I love New York, especially because it has some of the best people watching ever. I applaud the bold style choices of the New Yorker, and find it refreshing that so many hats are sported for style as well as function. To the man with the olive fedora on the uptown 4 this morning, bravo! You clearly care for your beautifully made hat, and know just the right curve for the brim. To the blonde hipster chick at St. Ann's Warehouse at yesterday's matinee, you know how to perfectly perch a porkpie. However, I'd like to lobby against the masses of Urban Outfitters, etc. -style fascinator headbands. Sorry, ladies, they look a bit cheap. For a few bucks more, you can get yourself a beautiful handmade number that no one else has. Hats are the best place to go vintage or handmade, because it really shows. And everyone remembers the girl in the hat. For real.