As winter descends, let’s not hibernate. Let’s remember why we are built the way we are, and go places.
Or, make really, really good use of our Netflix accounts. (Yeah, I’m awful. And a sucker for a night in bed with Terry Malick. Remember this? Still waiting on this one.)
Badlands, 1973 by Terrence Malick. Starring Martin Sheen and Sissy Spacek.
The story of Kit and Holly is based on the killing spree of murderer Charles Raymond Starkweather who nicked 11 people in the late 1950’s while on a road trip with his little girlfriend Caril. Obviously makins’ for a most endearing love story.
Kit in his Levi’s 507xx denim jacket (get yours here), white tee shirt, and barely pictured Levi’s 501s. Not pictured: bad ass cowboy boots.
Holly makes being a murder accessory look innocent and sweet as pie.
(perfectly featuring ISV favorites Mickey and Sylvia on the soundtrack)
Love, mmmhm, love is strange.
Dear Darlings,
Wishing you all a very happy and healthy Thanksgiving. Eat up, it’s the law.
big kiss,
Dana
all photos taken in October in or around Monument Valley on the Navajo Reservation.
Mmm, yes, speaking of putting money back in the pot and plumping up that little nest egg… Mmm, yes… But when a one-of-a-kind-something-or-other sings its siren song, there’s one of three ways things can go: 1. nab it without hesitation, live happily ever after; 2. walk away with little to moderate hesitation, let its memory fade; 3. Walk away with gripping hesitation, let its memory stain you until your dying day. The latter two emerge naturally over a period of a few hours to days, and so you don’t choose them, they choose you, unforch. True, my topic isn’t terribly germane to the forthcoming holiday season and spirit of giving, or to lessons in frugality, but then again they rarely are. Such is my lot in life, c’est moi.
To the point, have you yet to fall in love with the new Forest Bound Harvest series? All my hugs and kisses go to Alice who put much heart and soul into creating this singularly unique and beautiful collection of tote bags. Read about the charming provenance of the vintage materials that compose each piece on her website, and if a certain piece is singing your song? Nab it without hesitation, live happily ever after.
We’ve all been here, right? I’ve got you by my side? The heartrending pain that descends deep into the bowels of your being after losing an auction on eBay. The subsequent soul searching, all of life’s questions staring you dead in the eye…yeah, life’s tough. OK. But I really, really wanted this one.
Late 1930’s or 40’s Jantzen sweater, knit paratrooper motif. Absolutely amazing, and so individual not only for the design but because of what it represents about America during the time it was made, when the people and the government stood behind one common goal — *company breaks into a chorus of You’re a Grand Old Flag* Ha! Look at me, sittin’ here pretending I know things. Anyway, this sweater is beyond, and for $300 bones at auction, it should be. Congrats, whoever you are.
This guy. I love him.
A penny saved is a penny earned. (And a penny that can be applied to more shopping. This weekend, if you’re in New York check out ACL’s Pop Up Flea.)
‘ “Beauty” is a quality that the Navajos particularly appreciate; it is a repeated theme in their songs and chants and it is manifested directly in their weaving and jewelry… Set in a dry and austere environment where food and water are scarce, the seminomadic Navajos are all the more remarkable for their artistic accomplishments. They directed their creative energy toward blankets… and items of personal adornment that they could take with them since they were constantly on the move.’ – author Larry Frank
Navajo weaver at the loom
This one features an Eye Dazzler pattern in the center serrated diamond.
On the road to Taos, inside Carson National Forest
Now entering Taos.
The colors of Taos will be in my mind’s eye for a very long time, and in my heart for longer. Sky as blue as the day is long. The sun ages everything so kindly, as if it knows that the things herein will be with us for eternity, from the Pueblo to the pickup trucks.
Perfect patina, sun bleached blue 1950's Dodge pickup.
In through the out door, Taos Pueblo
The Taos Pueblo, continuously inhabited by Native Americans for over 1,000 years.
Taos Pueblo, 1,000 years of home sweet home.
Natives open up their homes as shops in each of these adobes, selling crafts that they make themselves. Handpainted pottery, wooden crafts, beaded and silver jewelry. Photography is not allowed inside, and I deleted my one photograph of the beautiful wooden ceilings at the request of a Native woman. (I should have been shooting film…*)
* and would have been, though they charge visitors variously per camera and my penny-pinchin’ tendencies often gets the best of me.
A wise Pueblo pup, with stories in his eyes.
Mid-morning snooze.
Condos, circa the year 1000.
Pueblo Church
The stories and faces we came to know in Taos won’t soon be forgotten.
Another thing to love about the Southwest: dream cars aren’t only up for auction, they are all over the roads. The dry heat keeps them pristine, and oh are we happy that it does, because if every place had a climate like New York our dream cars might be in heaping piles of rusty junkers.
I was passing through Sedona, AZ a day or two before The Vintage Racing League’s West Coast Holiday and Porsche 356 rally. I’m not sure whether my crazy-person excitement is really shining through here… One would be lucky to see such a delicious specimen in a lifetime, and there I was, spotting a 356- my ultimate dream car- at every corner. If I had hung around an extra day or two, I would have been swarmed by hundreds, one reveler told me.
Here are just a few:
Red Speedster, found in the little mining town of Jerome. This sweet cherry had a crack in the driver side door, meaning it’s more than likely made from fiberglass, meaning its more than likely a kit car. A replica. Getting closer and closer to the real thing, but not there yet…
Just a few blocks down the street, we stumbled upon this rare beauty:
But with the customized paint job and modern antenna, we realized that this is a replica, too. Who would have the heart to desecrate an original?
Then in our little hotel parking lot we came across this black beauty:
You be the judge: would you drive your 45 year old Porsche Speedster through the dust and dirt of Red Rock Country and Oak Creek Canyon? Not sure if this is an original or not.
But don’t you ever doubt whether the dream still exists. Later that day on our way to Utah outside of the Twin Rocks Trading Post, we found our darling, a perfect sweetie pie: all original. Gray with red interior. Flawless.
And, by the dim light of the high dessert dusk, I even saw one just like dear old Dad’s… which rusted through the bottom in good old New York State. Keep dreamin’.
In Monument Valley I came across an elder Navajo woman who spoke not a word of English, only Navajo. She was cleaning up her table after a day of peddling recently handcrafted wares to passerby. The woman caught a glimpse of the cluster bracelet on my wrist and asked if she could see it, her daughter-in-law Janet translated.
I learned that she actually lived within Monument Valley, as Janet pointed to her home towards the horizon, and was related to everyone else who lives within it, either as a cousin, aunt, or grandmother.
This beautiful woman, with skin the color of the red rock surrounding us, had inherited her two bracelets from her mother. She was, of course, not selling. But, of course, I asked.
Sunrise in Monument Valley, mid-October. I certainly won’t ever forget it.
Click here for a large version
Nor will I forget the subtleties of the prior evening’s sunset.
Click here for a large version
If you haven’t explored our beautiful country, I hope you might put that next trip to Europe on hold and see some of what we have to offer, right here. To possess an affinity for American style and to not see the towns and terrain from which it is inspired is awfully sad. I’m guilty, too, of dreaming of Florence and the Amalfi Coast instead, but traveling the Southwest does give me a renewed sense of ownership of and adoration for the USA (at least geographically and geologically, anyway…)
Oh, and in but-who-is-counting fashion, happy 100th post and anniversary to me! Thank you to everyone who has tread across and continued to visit ISV since last October. Love and thanks! XOX
Well, they call New Mexico the Land of Enchantment for a reason. Coming home to a heatless, hot waterless Brooklyn house after an entire Sunday spent waiting out plane delays and breathing recycled airport air was a bit of a shock to the system, but both me and the house have since recovered. I’ve got a few more days ahead of pouring over several hundred photos before show and tell.
Meanwhile dream cars were abound on and off the road out West. I was lucky enough to arrive in Las Vegas the day after the Barrett-Jackson car auction at Mandalay Bay, where Christmas came early for fortunate and well endowed car aficionados. I had an opportunity to sneak into the hangar before every last one was carted away, but with Security breathing down my neck, I only snapped a pitiful handful of some dare-to-dream favorites.
I’m a Chevy gal when it comes to pick-ups but these late 40’s Fords were glorious.
1930’s Roadster
The black beauties. My dream (American) car, the Corvette C1 made from ‘53 to ‘62.
See the full list of cars here
A day later I got in the rented Mustang coupe and hit the road.
