sip and shop

Her goal is to make a difference by bringing money back to the community, which is why proceeds from this year’s Sip & Shop at Chapel Bar (July 24th, 6p-10p) are going to Sew Beautiful – a local organization offering youth empowerment programs for young women of color by incorporating fashion and art. The event also brings the focus back to local designers and artists including Otra Vez, Flutterbudget Jewelry, Mac Fashion House, and Cookie Lee among others.

Fashion and art seem to be common themes in Kanika’s life – after graduating from WSU and putting in two years in the corporate world, she realized how important it was to get back to these childhood passions, while still thinking outside the box. She had always been driven to draw and sketch, but she felt that in the very complacent working world that drive gets lost. It’s like running on a hamster wheel, forgetting what you love to do. She had always gone against the grain stylistically, crediting her mom for her fashion sense.

Looking outside her Washington roots, Kanika realized that if you’re going to do fashion you go to New York – the “capital of fashion” here in the US. She applied to the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York, where she realized that it was meant to be, as everything began to slide into place. While at FIT she began to flex her career muscles in fashion merchandising and management. She still took time out to mentor – working with BlackGirlsRock Inc, a DJ program set on empowering and broadening the horizons for young women of color. Her motto was simple; work to engage young girls in something that interested them, planting seeds for brighter futures.

School has taught her a lot about business, and the fashion world; especially how everything trickles down the corporate ladder. She understood that the movers and shakers in New York recognized this – for example Michael Kors was incredibly hands-on and pleasant. This taught her to get in, make her mark, and remember that attitude is everything. New York was the experience of a lifetime.

Of her internships, she says,

“It made me realize what kind of a person I was. I left my comforts – my car, my apartment, etc – to follow a passion. I went from comfort to freedom, challenge and obstacles. It taught me how much courage I had to really pursue what I was most passionate about. I learned how to operate with integrity no matter how long the day is or how people talked. I didn’t quit and I continued to persevere. And many times I wanted to throw in the towel, but I didn’t. I left with a New York state-of-mind: Keep going and power through. It’s much easier to be in your comfort zone than to step out of that. It makes you realize that everything does happen the way it should.”

And it’s that drive and passion she’s brought to Seattle for the Sip & Shop events.

Kanika and Samarah both went to school together and then left the Pacific Northwest, only to reunite here again to incorporate fashion, community, and networking. The first Sip & Shop event was held at Waids last year, as a benefit for the Umoja Peace Center. Kanika and Samarah planned the event from scratch – from start to finish with no street team to help; the biggest challenge was to make the dream a reality. Kanika smiles when she talks about their first event, recalling their success with over 75 attendees, and a number of artfully hand-picked vendors.

This year they’ve stepped up the scale, bringing in twice the number of vendors to Capitol Hill’s hip digs. Working with Chapel Bar, Kanika and Samarah have an even more exciting event planned this year, including VIP goodies and the fashion show presented by Mac Fashion House (8p). The event will offer a fantastic combination of music, art, fashion and community, and the venue couldn’t be more perfect. Each vendor is meticulously hand-picked, Chapel will offer appetizers and cocktails, DJ Topspin will provide the music, and guests are invited to relax, to Sip & Shop.

Related posts:

1. Wholestyle Manifesto
2. NYFW Envy!
3. Links à la Mode: Playing Dress-Up

Fashion History, Doing it Yourself, and Breaking Stereotypes

Edited by: Marie Denee of The Curvy Fashionista

My first week editing the Links a`la Mode and it was such a pleasure to peruse the latest jewels from the blogosphere! Imagine viewing the history of fashion through the lens of a exhibition or a syllabus of what you wish was taught. How about taking inspiration from the latest Jeffery Campbell shoe and tricking out your own for less? Better yet, let’s talk about the “nude” trend and its color classification, and while we are at it, let’s question the newest movement in advertising campaigns: Unretouched and real beauty- a breakthrough or a publicity stunt? From fashion tips, finds, and favorite things, this week’s links a`la mode will satiate your hunger for full frontal fashion!

Links à la Mode: June 24th

• Bay Area Style File Shoptalk: Stript Wax Bar
• Bonne Vie Is “nude” a problem? Or just a color palette?
• Fashion Butter How to deal with the girls (dressing a larger chest)
• Fasshonaburu looks back at the fashion rules she set for herself at the beginning of the year to see how’s she’s done following them
• Fish Tank Fashion Are “unretouched” and “real beauty” advertising campaigns just a publicity stunt?
• Grit and Glamour Photography for the Amateur, Stagefright-Afflicted Blogger
• Hello Beauty have a new makeup lesson video with the Bobbi Brown Beach Collection and Treatment Lip Shines on hello beauty! The lesson is by Bobbi Brown education executive Katrina Rau.
• Intrinsically Florrie From 50s swimwear to an 18th century duchess’s wardrobe; a look at her college’s fashion exhibition
• Living Embellished Take a course in Fashion History…you know, what you always wished your college offered!
• Lovely & Lavish With the help of a stylish scarf you can transform an everyday getup into a chic outfit, Lovely & Lavish explores this season’s best accessory!
• Meowsk Dressing for the playground, reminiscent of recess.
• Miss Jones and Me Shares a Few of her Favorite Things
• Miss Vinyl Ahoy DIY Jeffrey Campbell Tick shoes for under $20!
• Profresh Style Combining prints & textures
• Retro Chick Frock love: Hot picks from the world of reproduction vintage
• Simply Luxurious Summer items to add to your wardrobe
• Stylish Thought Everyone Loves a Quirky Girl: Examining quirky style and women who dress the part
• The Coveted Under the Sea, Closeup view of Cynthia Rowley’s Resort 2011 Collection
• The Curvy Fashionista The opening of Full Figured Fashion Week NYC 2010
• Wicked Whimsy How to build up a versatile & comfortable array of shoes
• Tog and Trappings Les flâneurie: How observation of life can inspire creativity

Related posts:

1. Style Vs. Fashion: Links à la Mode
2. Links à la Mode: Beyond Fashion
3. Links à la Mode : The Heavyweights

Image from rangefinderforum.com

There has been so much heated talk about ‘nude’ in fashion lately that seeing this article from Elle blogs about the runway nails trend was a breath of fresh air.  It seems to me that nude is not necessarily a good name for color, but it’s worth noting that nude is a great look concept – for example, “mannequin hands”.  OPI has developed several shades with a nude palette in mind, like a color story instead of one catch-all color.

Image from Newsodrome.com

Using “nude” as more of a color theory and a set of “tones”, rather than a color description means more matching things to your own skin tone (like foundation, girls).  It means that a nude shoe is totally your unique experience because you want something that blends to make your leg look longer.  You’re looking for something within a range of colors that suits you – it could be sand, it could be tawny, it could be porcelain, it could be honey or toffee.   Calling things a “nude trend” indicates that what’s “in” is your skin tone – where the model it’s on (you) dictates what “nude” is.

Once more for the ladies:  to wear the nude tones means picking things that complement your own skin.

Maybe to change this whole concept of “nude” and the angry debates over skin tones that follow, we need to just realize that the wide consensus is this: there’s no specific color for the term nude, much like the term “chocolate” could be indicative of a variety of shades.

Ashe Mischief asks, “Are you going to be mad that a shade of brown is described as chocolate and it doesn’t match your skin if you’re African American? That you’re dark chocolate colored and not milk chocolate colored? Or not amaretto caramel fudge colored?  I am damn disappointed my flesh is not named after yummy candy, and I get disappointing words like beige and taupe (which are too yellow for me).  What do I get?  Peach? Fuck that shit.  You can call me Petit Four White, please.”

Nude tones are as varied as the people on this planet.  Use a nude palette as your color theory instead of a considering the color like a Pantone swatch.  “‘Nude’ covers an array of shades like whites, pinks, yellows, beiges, ivories and browns, so why get bogged down by terminology?”

Manufacturers and designers know that nude is a palette – using names like chai, wheat, and flax within the group of nude tones.   It only seems to be reporters and mags who are still in the dark.  In thinking about the underlying semantics, we have the ability to shed a conscious light on a wide palette of colors and make nude tones more accessible.  As Michelle from Wicked Whimsy reminds us, “fashion magazines have a tendency to use the narrowest selection of models possible.”  So when Marie Claire does that mag shoot for “nude”, we expect it might all be “porcelain”, which is a nude tone on the ONE white model they used (why were there not other models? Budget cuts maybe?  That’s a different problem in itself).  We all know damn well, those models aren’t representative of a wide majority of people in any way, shape or form.

Image from Jezebel.com

Hell, even I know that most nude tones (including that Marie Claire photo) would never match my skin tone with its ruddy pink here, brown there and delicious freckles.  It’s worth noting though, that the term nude is not that big a deal since it’s consistently considered a palette rather than one specific color (Pantone?  You hear me?  Nude isn’t a color, dudes.  Even CRAYOLA says so).   Picking a nude tone is like picking a foundation off a rack of different tones.  Brush off that anger because the world is ignorant (yes, darling.  It’s true, but as Ashe mentioned, “you’re making mountains out of molehills”.  Anger gets us nowhere.) … and maybe send Marie Claire a *nice* note about using more variety in their models instead of being angry at the fashion world for the name of one of it’s color palettes.

Related posts:

1. Color Alchemy
2. Wholestyle Manifesto
3. New at The Demoiselles: Who Are You Dressing For?

You, Only Better

Edited by: Ann Colville Somma of Holier than Now

It’s a strange culture we live in: we’re always told Just be yourself!, yet the bestseller list is chock-full of self-help books and memoirs depicting radical change. Finding the balance between total transformation and chilling in our pajamas is difficult, but that’s why I love the blogosphere. Here, inspiration is served up one manageable bite at a time. Want to save the world? Start with vintage beachwear – the purchase benefits disaster victims. Hoping your man evolves into a sharp-dressed diaper-changer? Let’s begin with a chic- and sustainable- Dad’s day gift. Looking for your dream job? Take baby steps by revamping your work wardrobe and taking notes from inspiring entrepreneurs.

Links à la Mode: June 17th

• A la Modest A Uniform Response to Chaos: Janelle Monáe
• Amateur Couture Art-inspired looks
• Awakened Aesthetic Men are notoriously hard to shop for… these gifts are all sustainable.
• Despising Life is So Passe A reminder that no gain is found without work put forth
• Dramatis Personae 10 Things Carrie Bradshaw Taught Me About Fashion
• Fabulous Finds Karl Lagerfeld says the crowd at AMfar is real and Oscar fashion is fake
• Fassonaburu Vyque looks back at five months of trying to follow strict fashion rules
• Grit and Glamour Meet Amanda of Amanda Deer Jewelry
• Holier than Now Rethinking a previously rejected look
• Hundy & Undy Casual doesn’t have to be so casual
• Market Publique Market Publique & ModCloth auction vintage beachwear to benefit disaster victims
• M.I.S.S. Interview with IFB founder Jennine Jacob
• On the Racks Finding summer outfit inspiration in the strangest of places
• Style with Benefits Father’s Day stylish gift guide by Esquire’s Best Dressed Real Man in America
• Stylish Thought How to ban boring business attire from your work wardrobe
• Tale Teller What famous designers said about fashion
• The Greyest Ghost Art meets fashion at the Whitney’s 2010 Art Party
• The Seventeen Magazine Project One high school senior lives by the dictates of Seventeen Magazine for 30 days
• Tog and Trappings Les flâneurie: How observation of life can inspire creativity

Related posts:

1. Links à la Mode: Ice Cold Lemonade
2. Style Vs. Fashion: Links à la Mode
3. Links à la Mode: Beyond Fashion

Kurt Cobain by Scott Fife

One of the most effective exhibits in the Kurt exhibition is not the larger-than-life and somewhat morbid rendition of Cobain’s cranium, by Scott Fife (2006). It was fairly impressive and haunting; with large bloodshot eyes staring through you, off into space. It also wasn’t Jordan Kantor’s Untitled (2006), a painstaking collaged rendition of crime scene photos – “perpetuating an air of mystery.” Truly, one of the most striking pieces may not be linked to Kurt at all, in that it could be anybody’s séance – Cobain, Morrison, Hendrix.

Standing Wave Séance by Hadley and Maxwell (2010) was one of the most effective pieces at the exhibit, giving the viewer a chance to enter the “pathos of Cobain’s disembodied voice” both “celebrated and destroyed by the same crowd”. It’s a conspicuous exhibit – fiberboard walls, padded with egg crate on the outside give the artwork a sort of humble appeal. Walking into the piece takes the viewer to a whole different level. A feedback loop plays through the mounted speakers next to a red Fender amp, and a microphone is the central focus, set on top of duct taped mats. This is the artist’s world, lit by a solitary bare bulb. Around the room, the viewer might find a number of artifacts, origami boxes and an accordion cut matchbook could have been a way to relieve the tension before recording or before a show. All these things represent a larger lifestyle, a lonely ascent from a “normal” reality. Clinging to that reality and to a sense of normalcy – taped to the mic stand – sits a lonely wisp of a plant in a plastic cup might suggest the artist’s rise towards the light, towards stardom and fame. The lonely little plant also suggests a wish to stay grounded. As the viewer circles the sound room, the roar of a crowd rises, replacing the feedback loop. The pressure is on, to tune up, to play a show, to impress crowds. Standing behind the mic, the viewer has a glimpse towards the gritty and well-known photos of Cobain crashing into the drum kit behind him at the Rijn. Kurt looks dazed as onlookers stand back and watch. The entire effect of the tiny sound room is haunting, even giving the viewer a sort of trapped feeling – the room is a little too small, too dark. In the background, beyond the room this exhibit stands in, Nirvana’s music floats through the rest of the exhibit with a note of tragedy.

Banks Violette - Lines of Wreckage (Love Songs for Assholes #2)

While many of the pieces in the exhibit are striking – including Banks Violette’s heavy-handed graphite work, some of the pieces seem trite and forced. They’re there as if to say “I want to ride this wave of stellar death.” What’s fashionable in art will always be copied whether through subject or technique and the topic of Cobain’s early demise is definitely still a sore subject.

Slater Bradley’s Marijuana (2004) is one such piece – taking on an air of textbook simplicity and attempting to grab the viewer’s attention through the title. It’s the kind of artwork we’d see taped to a dorm room wall, not from an artist who can get himself into the SAM with pieces like Silver I Love You So Much it Makes Me Sick (2008). It feels forced, showing off the covers of three different magazines, including High Times and Rolling Stone with the same photo of Cobain plastered across the front. The title and the subject matter show an obvious drug reference, but with all the triteness of an illogical connection between marijuana and premature celebrity expiration. It reads almost like a drug-free commercial, where marijuana is the gateway to Cobain’s death. Were the piece titled something different – Heroin, maybe – the connection would be believable. The main focus of the piece – noted from the placard on the wall is that Kurt’s face is used a number of times in different ways, with the only cannabis reference being the magazines featured. Sitting next to Silver, Marijuana definitely shows the gap in Bradley’s evolution as an artist.

Overall, the Kurt exhibit is melancholy, especially if you skip the derisive affront to Cobain’s fan base through Bradley’s elementary rendition of the passing of a rock legend. More so than not, the exhibit will leave you with a sense of loss, and loneliness representing the inner world of someone so tortured.

Related posts:

1. Things I’ve Learned From a Man I Never Knew
2. Great Read: Irrelevant Topics
3. Oh! December!

So when my class was asked to view the Fleeting Beauty exhibit at the Seattle Asian Art Museum, I was thrilled – especially because our tour of the museum was with none other than the exhibit’s collectors, Mary and Allan Kollar.  Fleeting, it is – each print depicts the ‘Floating World’, a culture surrounding the licensed red-light district in Edo.  There are scenes from kabuki theaters, tea houses and of course, brothels.  Each print depicts a number of lifestyles; courtesans, lovers, samurai, geisha, actors and Chonin – the townsmen who frequented this world.  For a little over 200 years, the society thrived and lives on through the bold lines, intricate detail, and color.  The color itself is fleeting too – Allan, the collector, mentioned that it was rare to see some of the colors in the prints; some of the pinks, and vibrant greens would have faded away to grays and tans.  Many of the reds have turned to black – the prints themselves are as fleeting as the world they embody.  He mentioned that once the exhibit is over, the prints won’t even be the same as they were the day they were hung.  That fact alone strikes a chord with anyone viewing these prints – everything about them embodies the floating world, from the figures in them to the disappearing color.

Kollar says that we’re lucky in that we have at least two pieces in the collection that we absolutely should not have, including Hokusai’s “Red Fuji” and this work:

The Great Wave off Kanagawa, Hokusai’s most famous print, the first in the series 36 Views of Mount Fuji.

It was there, in majestic blues, Hokusai’s most famous print; in fact, probably the most well known woodblock print.  It hung, almost suspended in time – the real thing on a wall at the Asian Art museum.   The most amazing part was that you could see the oarsmen in each boat as they fight the swell – man versus nature.  There they were, struggling, tiny layers of lines laid down – all the layers stacked on top of one another – and it wasn’t a far stretch to imagine all the time that went into creating the print – between the designer, the carver, the artist, the publisher.

The following print, Kollar mentioned, would have at least 8 plates, colors stacked on top of one another.

“Plum Garden,” Utagawa Hiroshige, 1856-’58.

These prints were important in many areas of life: in fashion, they depict characters in haute couture – fashion guides driving the popular mode of dress.  In fact, designers would copy the artists renderings to bring the à la mode to life.  The fashions of courtesans were copied onto print and Japanese women learned to copy hairstyles, mode of dress, and poses.

The prints often satirized the cultural norms, showing humor in the glamorous lifestyle – a tongue in cheek commentary.  Many of the prints were somewhat erotic and were produced for erotic catalogues – a robe here, a smile there, hands here – but whose hands are they?  At times the prints are sweet and serene, busy and frenetic or highly sexually charged.  There’s so much depth in each print that is only seen through careful consideration.  It was humbling to see the detail in each artwork – there, in true form, like no artisan has been able to produce since.

“Courtesan Seated Smoking With an Adolescent Client,” Kitagawa Utamaro, 1799

The exhibition is impressive, and the background behind it is fascinating.  In time, the color will be washed away as was the fleeting beauty of Edo itself.

Related posts:

1. Beauty Defined
2. Winter Inspirations
3. A Picture of Beauty

Image from "My culture is not a trend" on Tumblr - the girl on the right? guh! *shudders*

Michelle of Wicked Whimsy and I had this conversation a few months back and we affirmed our stance that when you’re going to borrow “looks” you should at least know what you’re borrowing – know why your look is significant to a culture, so that you can respectfully represent that people/symbol/culture.  Know that there are things that would totally piss people off if you just wore it around like nobody’s business.

So what does that mean when it comes to headdresses?  (I love this image because it displays the significant item with such taste – it’s about the item, not the human figure wearing it.)

From My Culture is Not a Trend

This?  This is the first thing you think of when talking about feather headdresses.  This is a War Bonnet.  Stop and think for a minute about the implications of that name…

From Native Languages.org:

Warbonnets (or war bonnets) are the impressive feather headdresses commonly seen in Western movies and TV shows. Although warbonnets are the best-known type of Indian headdress today, they were actually only worn by a dozen or so Indian tribes in the Great Plains region […]

Warbonnets were important ceremonial regalia worn only by chiefs and warriors. Also, only men wore warbonnets. (Women sometimes went to war in some Plains Indian tribes, and there were even some female chiefs, but they never wore these masculine headdresses.)

In the 1800′s, Native American men from other tribes sometimes began to wear Plains-style warbonnets. Partially this was because of the American tourist industry, which expected Native Americans to look a certain way. Partially it was because many Native American tribes were forced to move to Oklahoma and other Indian territories during this time in history, so tribes that used to live far apart began adopting customs from their new neighbors. In most cases, the feather warbonnet did not have the same significance among the new tribes that adopted it. For them, it was a matter of fashion or a general symbol of authority. But for the Plains Indian tribes, feather warbonnets were a sacred display of a man’s honor and courage, and each feather told a story. Eagle feathers are still sometimes awarded to Plains Indians who serve in the military or do other brave deeds today.

Did you earn the feathers in your headdress?  I know that’s a loaded question to ask, but did you think of that when you purchased that little sweatshop-made gem at Urban Outfitters (of all places)?  And as Michelle noted: “…as far as “ceremonial” items go, not all Natives even have access to these cultural relics any more, due to the poverty within the community.  This makes it especially douchey for UO to do cheap, appropriating knock offs.”  I concur!  And Michelle brought to mind a good point from the Threadbared article:

“So while it’s great that you can walk around feeling like hot shit in your feathered headband, there are many Native Americans still too ashamed or afraid to even discuss their ethnicities or cultures with their children. “

On a contrary note, I have respect for the girl who builds her headdress herself – and I wonder if that’s just being contradictory.  The Warbonnet clearly irks me… but can I really blame the girl who makes her own feather headband?  Hell, I enjoy sticking a feather or two in my hair and heading out to a party.  And are feathers in your hair only representative of indigenous people?  I think using the headdress that looks like a warbonnet – with dipped feathers and all – for all intents and purposes is appropriating something that’s culturally significant.  Pairing it with warpaint is incredibly more ridiculous (I’m talking to you, girls who dress like this for their Myspace pictures)!

From My Culture is Not a Trend

When you look at the meaning there:

The Indian headband is also well-known from movies and other popular images of Native Americans. However, this style of headband was typically only used by a few tribes of the northeast Woodlands. Usually the headband consisted of a finger-woven or beaded deerskin strip with tribal designs on it. This band was then tied around the brow with a feather or two tucked through the back. Not only eagle feathers but turkey, hawk, egret, and crane feathers were also used for Woodland Indian headbands.

Unlike many of the Native American headdresses… both men and women wore headbands, which were not associated with war. The number and type of feather did not usually have special symbolic meaning, though in a few tribes that bordered the Plains eagle feathers were reserved for warriors. For the most part, Woodland Indian head bands were worn for their beauty, and were often decorated with intricate patterns, wampum, beads, and quillwork.

Here, you’re not taking the honor that you may not have earned and turning it into your next hipster party gag.  And where do we draw the line between honoring a culture and oppressing them?  As Ashe Mischief pondered: “and in theory, if I wore one, albeit a sparkly one, how do we know I’m not saying, I’m a modern leader among my tribe?”  To make one yourself – using colors and decor significant to your human experience – is that truly taboo?  In my opinion, if you make yourself a headband to wear feathers in your hair, you’ve earned it (though I still advise against using the warbonnet as a point of cultural significance – I don’t dress like Geisha for shits and giggles, or an evening out and I definitely don’t wear a Ganesha mask to dress-up parties) – but I think that if you didn’t bead that shit yourself (therefore putting your own cultural story into it), or obtain it from someone who made it as cultural memorabilia to celebrate their heritage, stealing cultural symbols is basically as taboo as buying counterfeit bags and slanging them as the real thing.  We all know it’s cooler to DIY anyhow.

Michelle says:

I found extending appropriation to some items a little odd. In a few posts about appropriation I’ve seen it extended to items like bone jewelry, which presents a bit of a conundrum for me…

Something like bone jewelry has existed in a huge variety of cultures over the years, not all of them Native American. Wearing bone or other bits of animals (for lack of a better term!) has a long history …

As the above, previously referenced commenter put it:

“Dressing up as “a Native American” furthers the already popular notion that they aren’t real, diverse, complex human beings.”

I remember a conversation with my dad about the Atlanta Braves – he didn’t see the name as an issue because the team played well and wanted to show their honor and proud, fighting-spirit.  Where does that differ from wearing a headband with a feather in it?  A warbonnet? Does the meaning of the item/word/idea have relevance in making that distinction between appropriate and culturally insensitive It seems as if we’re picking and choosing – but it comes down to not picking and choosing.  Lumping all these unique cultures into one denies their uniqueness.  Dressing with influence from indigenous people is different than dressing like a “Native American”.  Pairing war paint with that pretty feathered headband tells me you don’t know your ass from the cultural history of your country.  It’s hard to know whether or not you understand the significance of what you’re wearing unless you show up looking like a Drugstore Indian (and for the life of me, I can’t find you a good image.  I’ll take a picture of the one on the ave, posthaste).  Your stereotypes are often obvious.

Where warbonnets – the headdress you picture when you think “TV Indians” – were important symbols, feather headbands were worn because they were pretty.  Think about it – just consider the reason that thing you want exists.  Whether it’s your red Doc Martens, your feather headdress or any other culturally borrowed item.

Related posts:

1. In Fashion: Cultural Appropriation vs Inspiration
2. Style Vs. Fashion: Links à la Mode
3. Never Nude?

Isis Ring

Isis was a goddess in Ancient Egyptian religious beliefs, whose worship spread throughout the Greco-Roman world. She was worshiped as the ideal mother and wife as well as the matron of nature and magic. She was the friend of slaves, sinners, artisans, the downtrodden, as well as listening to the prayers of the wealthy, maidens, aristocrats and rulers. Isis is the Goddess of motherhood, magic and fertility.

The goddess Isis (the mother of Horus) was the first daughter of Geb, god of the Earth, and Nut, the goddess of the Overarching Sky, and was born on the fourth intercalary day. At some time Isis and Hathor had the same headdress. In later myths about Isis, she had a brother, Osiris, who became her husband, and she then was said to have conceived Horus. Isis was instrumental in the resurrection of Osiris when he was murdered by Set. Her magical skills restored his body to life after she gathered the body parts that had been strewn about the earth by Set. This myth became very important in later Egyptian religious beliefs.

Isis is also known as the goddess of simplicity, protector of the dead and goddess of children from whom all beginnings arose. In later myths, the Ancient Egyptians believed that the Nile River flooded every year because of her tears of sorrow for her dead husband, Osiris. This occurrence of his death and rebirth was relived each year through rituals. The worship of Isis eventually spread throughout the Greco-Roman world, continuing until the suppression ofpaganism in the Christian era.

Anubis Ring

Anubis is the Greek name for a jackal-headed god associated with mummification and the afterlife in Egyptian mythology. In the ancient Egyptian language, Anubis is known as Inpu. The oldest known mention of Anubis is in the Old Kingdom pyramid texts, where he is associated with the burial of the Pharaoh. At this time, Anubis was the most important god of the Dead but he was replaced during the Middle Kingdom by Osiris.

He takes names in connection with his funerary role, such as He who is upon his mountain, which underscores his importance as a protector of the deceased and their tombs, and the titleHe who is in the place of embalming, associating him with the process of mummification. Like many ancient Egyptian deities, Anubis assumes different roles in various contexts, and no public procession in Egypt would be conducted without an Anubis to march at the head.

Black Gold Ring

Those are a few of my favorites, but the artist uses gold, silver, plastic and wood if you’re interested in jewelry in other media.

You can bet I have my eye on the Isis and Anubis rings though!

Check out Arosha on Etsy, or through the Artist’s design portfolio.

Related posts:

1. In Plain Fashion
2. Winter Inspirations
3. Color Alchemy

I snapped a couple pictures before I left the house.  I bought this dress at a STREET FAIR of all places!

It’s from a place called “Silk Dragons” or something and is my go-to party dress.  It’s a fantastic deep blue – though it looks brighter here with the lighting.  Don’t mind the ugly comforter under the sofa…..

I wore it with a little light-blue vintage hat, white gloves, and these crazy gold platforms from Hale Bob – which, I have to say, I’m disappointed in!  Over the course of only a few hours, the finish on the wedges had started to come off around the bottom exposing the white wedge material beneath.

I also tried a new and super-easy method of pincurling, where you use a small barrel (1″) curling iron and set the curls in place, then pin them to your head until you’ve done your entire set.  When you pull the pins out and softly brush through it it creates this curly, wavy look that I achieved.  I didn’t use setting lotion, only this crazy “Big Sexy” root-boost-mousse that I bought at the grocery store, and a little hairspray and I had curls 3 DAYS LATER!

The jewels you see here are vintage.  Krystal of Smashing Divas fame found me the most incredible deal – her great aunt was getting rid of excess and she invited me over to take a look.  I’m wearing a demi-parure I found that’s TOTALLY Trifari.  It’s fantastic.  the pearl bracelet is from the same vintage set.  Notice the incredible “hot magenta” manicure – I felt a little springy and went all out with an insane electric-Barbie color.  Totally eye-catching!

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Suddenly she came upon a little three-legged table, all made of solid glass; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden key, and Alice’s first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors of the hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the key was too small, but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on the second time round, she came upon a low curtain she had not noticed before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: she tried the little golden key in the lock, and to her great delight it fitted!

There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so she went back to the table, half hoping she might find another key on it, or at any rate a book of rules for shutting people up like telescopes: this time she found a little bottle on it, (`which certainly was not here before,’ said Alice,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the words `DRINK ME’ beautifully printed on it in large letters.

It was all very well to say `Drink me,’ but the wise little Alice was not going to do THAT in a hurry. `No, I’ll look first,’ she said, `and see whether it’s marked “poison” or not’; for she had read several nice little histories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they WOULD not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if your hold it too long; and that if you cut your finger VERY deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked `poison,’ it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.

They were indeed a queer-looking party that assembled on the bank–the birds with draggled feathers, the animals with their fur clinging close to them, and all dripping wet, cross, and uncomfortable.

The first question of course was, how to get dry again: they had a consultation about this, and after a few minutes it seemed quite natural to Alice to find herself talking familiarly with them, as if she had known them all her life. Indeed, she had quite a long argument with the Lory, who at last turned sulky, and would only say, `I am older than you, and must know better’; and this Alice would not allow without knowing how old it was, and, as the Lory positively refused to tell its age, there was no more to be said.

At last the Mouse, who seemed to be a person of authority among them, called out, `Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! I’LL soon make you dry enough!’ They all sat down at once, in a large ring, with the Mouse in the middle. Alice kept her eyes anxiously fixed on it, for she felt sure she would catch a bad cold if she did not get dry very soon.

There was a table set out under a tree in front of the house, and the March Hare and the Hatter were having tea at it: a Dormouse was sitting between them, fast asleep, and the other two were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it, and the talking over its head. `Very uncomfortable for the Dormouse,’ thought Alice; `only, as it’s asleep, I suppose it doesn’t mind.’

The table was a large one, but the three were all crowded together at one corner of it: `No room! No room!’ they cried out when they saw Alice coming. `There’s PLENTY of room!’ said Alice indignantly, and she sat down in a large arm-chair at one end of the table.

`Have some wine,’ the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.

The Hatter shook his head mournfully. `Not I!’ he replied. `We quarrelled last March–just before HE went mad, you know–’ (pointing with his tea spoon at the March Hare,) `–it was at the great concert given by the Queen of Hearts, and I had to sing

“Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you’re at!”

You know the song, perhaps?’

`I’ve heard something like it,’ said Alice.

`It goes on, you know,’ the Hatter continued, `in this way:–

“Up above the world you fly, Like a tea-tray in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle–”‘

Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep `Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle–’ and went on so long that they had to pinch it to make it stop.

`Well, I’d hardly finished the first verse,’ said the Hatter, `when the Queen jumped up and bawled out, “He’s murdering the time! Off with his head!”‘
`How dreadfully savage!’ exclaimed Alice.

Seven flung down his brush, and had just begun `Well, of all the unjust things–’ when his eye chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood watching them, and he checked himself suddenly: the others looked round also, and all of them bowed low.

`Would you tell me,’ said Alice, a little timidly, `why you are painting those roses?’

Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low voice, `Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a RED rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see, Miss, we’re doing our best, afore she comes, to–’ At this moment Five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out `The Queen! The Queen!’ and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps, and Alice looked round, eager to see the Queen.

First came ten soldiers carrying clubs; these were all shaped like the three gardeners, oblong and flat, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with diamonds, and walked two and two, as the soldiers did. After these came the royal children; there were ten of them, and the little dears came jumping merrily along hand in hand, in couples: they were all ornamented with hearts. Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them Alice recognised the White Rabbit: it was talking in a hurried nervous manner, smiling at everything that was said, and went by without noticing her. Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying the King’s crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and, last of all this grand procession, came THE KING AND QUEEN OF HEARTS.

They had not gone far before they saw the Mock Turtle in the distance, sitting sad and lonely on a little ledge of rock, and, as they came nearer, Alice could hear him sighing as if his heart would break. She pitied him deeply. `What is his sorrow?’ she asked the Gryphon, and the Gryphon answered, very nearly in the same words as before, `It’s all his fancy, that: he hasn’t got no sorrow, you know. Come on!’

So they went up to the Mock Turtle, who looked at them with large eyes full of tears, but said nothing.

`This here young lady,’ said the Gryphon, `she wants for to know your history, she do.’

`I’ll tell it her,’ said the Mock Turtle in a deep, hollow tone: `sit down, both of you, and don’t speak a word till I’ve finished.’

So they sat down, and nobody spoke for some minutes. Alice thought to herself, `I don’t see how he can EVEN finish, if he doesn’t begin.’ But she waited patiently.

`Once,’ said the Mock Turtle at last, with a deep sigh, `I was a real Turtle.’

The King and Queen of Hearts were seated on their throne when they arrived, with a great crowd assembled about them–all sorts of little birds and beasts, as well as the whole pack of cards: the Knave was standing before them, in chains, with a soldier on each side to guard him; and near the King was the White Rabbit, with a trumpet in one hand, and a scroll of parchment in the other. In the very middle of the court was a table, with a large dish of tarts upon it: they looked so good, that it made Alice quite hungry to look at them–`I wish they’d get the trial done,’ she thought, `and hand round the refreshments!’ But there seemed to be no chance of this, so she began looking at everything about her, to pass away the time.

First, she dreamed of little Alice herself, and once again the tiny hands were clasped upon her knee, and the bright eager eyes were looking up into hers–she could hear the very tones of her voice, and see that queer little toss of her head to keep back the wandering hair that WOULD always get into her eyes–and still as she listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around her became alive the strange creatures of her little sister’s dream.

The long grass rustled at her feet as the White Rabbit hurried by–the frightened Mouse splashed his way through the neighbouring pool–she could hear the rattle of the teacups as the March Hare and his friends shared their never-ending meal, and the shrill voice of the Queen ordering off her unfortunate guests to execution–once more the pig-baby was sneezing on the Duchess’s knee, while plates and dishes crashed around it–once more the shriek of the Gryphon, the squeaking of the Lizard’s slate-pencil, and the choking of the suppressed guinea-pigs, filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock Turtle.

So she sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed herself in Wonderland, though she knew she had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality–the grass would be only rustling in the wind, and the pool rippling to the waving of the reeds–the rattling teacups would change to tinkling sheep- bells, and the Queen’s shrill cries to the voice of the shepherd boy–and the sneeze of the baby, the shriek of the Gryphon, and all thy other queer noises, would change (she knew) to the confused clamour of the busy farm-yard–while the lowing of the cattle in the distance would take the place of the Mock Turtle’s heavy sobs.

Lastly, she pictured to herself how this same little sister of hers would, in the after-time, be herself a grown woman; and how she would keep, through all her riper years, the simple and loving heart of her childhood: and how she would gather about her other little children, and make THEIR eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Wonderland of long ago: and how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a pleasure in all their simple joys, remembering her own child-life, and the happy summer days.

the end.

All book excerpts are from Lewis Carroll’s “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, which you can find online at Gutenberg.org

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