My aunt Betty was a fashionista.
This should not surprise anyone who’s read these diaries; I’ve described Betty as a “Midwestern Republican Auntie Mame,” and by and large this was true. Her hair was always perfectly styled, her makeup understated but still fashionable, and she rarely left the house without a spritz or two or Emeraude, Chantilly, White Shoulders, or a similar classic perfume. Her wardrobe was equally timeless, with a mix of good quality staples and trendy accessories that was startlingly close to that of legendary socialite Nan Kempner. Her jewelry was excellent quality, her hats flattering, and if one had spotted her at Stouffer’s or Top of the Triangle as she lunched with her friends, one might well have thought she was Nan Kempner.
Needless to say, a great deal of Betty’s income was devoted to maintaining her appearance. Hair appointments, makeup, real gold jewelry, and a flattering wardrobe are not cheap, even if one lives in the Steel City and not the Big Apple. If Betty had not been blessed with two gainfully employed brothers, one of whom actually owned the house where she lived when she wasn’t swanning about at Kaufmann’s, she might not have been quite so fashionable, or spent quite so many lunch hours at the Vendome, the makeup counter at Horne’s, or perusing the silk scarves at Saks Fifth Avenue.
Is it any wonder that I thought she was the most beautiful, glamorous, amazing creature in the world? Or that Betty, who had no children of her own, decided to take advantage of my teenage hero-worship and mold me in her image?
My mother was somewhat skeptical. Her taste ran to tailored suits she could wear for several years and similarly practical garments, not high or even medium fashion like her elegant sister. She also disliked makeup, eschewed perfume except for the occasional splash of Yardley's English Lavender, and rarely wore clear nail polish, let alone colored. Not only had she inculcated these principles in me, she was all but certain that I was far more interested in books than clothes.
Mum was of course right, as anyone who's attempted to go shopping with me well knows waves at Beata if she decides to read this. That didn't stop Betty from trying, though. She took me shopping on Saturday mornings, treated me at Kaufmann's restaurant after several hard hours of examining tchotckes at the Vendome, and made sure that my closet was well stocked with footwear, dresses, nice little knit tops, and even a couple of fancy skirts that would have been highly fashionable if I'd been in the habit of attending apres ski parties with Ernest Stavro Blofeld in the mid-1960's.
That all of this bore very little resemblance to what the average teenager wore ten years later did not seem to register with her, me, or even Mum, who as a high school teacher presumably knew what was hot and what was not. I still had enough jeans, t-shirts, and platform shoes to fit in, at least most of the time, and if I dressed straight out of the Talbots when we went out to dinner, no one except the family knew. I was neat, clean, didn't do drugs, and preferred Beethoven to that horrible disco junk, so it was all good...
Until the day I began packing for college.
We knew that space would be limited in my dormitory; not only were most of the houses at Smith small by college standards, I'd be sharing a room with another girl. This meant I could take only what I truly needed, not what Betty thought I would need, based on her own experiences thirty years earlier.
So much for the black velvet evening pants (very pretty but always a bit too tight) and the patchwork evening skirt. Ditto the green pantsuit, the tomato red Pendleton suit, and two pair of wide-wale corduroy pants. My beloved plaid maxicoat would be replaced by something more suited for New England winters, as would several of my favorite sweaters. I could keep most of my jeans, but my summer dresses would stay in Pittsburgh since, y'know, college started in September.
So it went for the better part of an afternoon as Mum and I weeded through my wardrobe. Betty was there, commenting plaintively that surely I'd need those velvet pants for all the dates that nice fraternity boys would ask me on, never mind that Amherst frat boys were much closer to denizens of Faber College than anyone she'd encountered at Thiel. Mum and I basically ignored her - we were very, very good at that, especially Mum - even if Mum ended up putting the patchwork evening skirt back into the trunk at the last minute.
At last the clothing, accessories, and linens were packed and ready to go. The only thing left were my toiletries, which would go in my suitcase, and whatever shoes I wanted to take....
And that, as they say, was when the fun started.
The rainbow platform sandals clearly had to stay home...but the leather boots would be needed in all that slush and snow! Ditto the black high heeled boots, the black pumps, the blue pumps, the loafers, the golden tan heels, the brown heeled boots, the green canvas wedgies, the -
Mum stopped, the golden tan heels in one hand. "Where did these come from? I didn't buy them."
"Oh, I did," said Betty. "I thought they'd match that cute camel suit, the one with the pleated skirt, and - "
"I don't wear them that often," I interjected. "They can stay here."
"I should hope so." Mum pulled out a pair of red shoes, then a pair of clunky blue suede boots. Her lips were moving as she counted yet another pair of blue pumps, then more black pumps (these patent leather), and yet more sandals. "Betty? Did you buy - "
"They were on sale, Martha." Betty folded her arms across her chest. "What's wrong?"
"She doesn't need nineteen pairs of shoes!" Mum cried. She actually shook one of the golden tan pumps in her sister's direction. "Nineteen pairs? That's ridiculous! She's going to college, not a fashion show! My God, what were you thinking?"
Betty made a disgusted little moue and gestured vaguely at Mum. "You don't understand. She should look good, not like a ragamuffin!"
"She'll look like an idiot if she shows up with all of these!" Mum pitched the golden tan pumps back into the closet, all but snarling. "I could kill you, I could just kill you, this is the dumbest thing I've ever seen - "
I quietly fled the room and headed downstairs to take the dog for a walk. My mother and my aunt could and probably would go on for quite some time, and it was best if I was nowhere near the blast radius while they argued over how many pairs of shoes I'd need in the tres, tres chic environs of Northampton, Massachusetts in 1978. I could always buy what I needed when I got there, or ask Mum to send me the black velvet pants if Nathaniel Elliott Worthington XVIIIth asked me to have a chocolate soda at Bran-Win's Pharmacy.
Besides, I'd always disliked those golden tan pumps.
Betty's lessons in shopping didn't really have much of an effect on me Beata, if you're laughing at me I will put your cat on the Metrocal diet, to put it mildly, but that doesn't mean I'm oblivious to the lure of shopping. This time of the year in particular, it's hard to resist the pretty colored lights, soft music, and tempting giftables on display at fine malls and boutiques throughout our great land. It's the holidays, after all, and what better excuse to splurge a little?
Tonight I bring you eleven items that I personally experienced and enjoyed in the past year that are all suitable for giving as gifts this holiday season. Four are books, four are collected comic books or strips, and three are films. All are eminently qualified to appear under your Festivus pole, and I hope you like them as much I did.
I also include a bonus Film So Bad It's Good, just because I love you all and want you to suffer have the merriest of holiday shopping seasons:
Books:
Operation Paperclip, by Annie Jacobsen - harrowing popular history about post-war program that brought literally thousands of Nazi scientists, doctors, weapons specialists, and spies to the United States, Nazi history and possible war crimes be damned. This is not easy to read, but anyone who wants to know how badly the United States screwed up the peace needs to read this.
Prisoner of the Vatican, by Daniel Kertzer - fine, balanced account of how a succession of Popes basically threw a hissy fit over the loss of the Papal States by insisting that the new Kingdom of Italy had "imprisoned" them and was "infringing upon their religious liberty." Kertzer, best known for The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara, draws upon a wealth of recently unearthed Vatican and Italian documents to make a compelling case that the weakness of modern Italy stems from what may be the longest sit-down strike in European history.
Elements of Mind, by Walter H. Hunt - steampunk is all the rage right now, but most do little more than add cool gadgets and and pistol-toting women to conventional Victorian horror. Hunt goes much deeper in this tale of an arrogant British mesmerist who ignores all warnings in his search for a powerful, and very, very dangerous artifact. The narrative voice is convincingly Victorian without being stuffy, the supporting characters are sharply drawn, and what might have been an overly researched snorefest is a a fast-paced, beautifully written work that combines horror and steampunk with deftness and skill.
Ernie's America: The Best of Ernie Pyle's 1930's Travel Dispatches, ed. David Nichols - Ernie Pyle is best known for his brilliant dispatches from the European Theater in World War II, but before that he spent nearly a decade traveling the country and writing about the people and places he encountered. The portrait of a country and its citizens emerging from the nightmare of economic collapse is more relevant than ever, and Pyle's smooth, thoroughly American prose is a joy to read.
Comics:
Captain Marvel: Higher, Further, Faster, More, by Kelly Sue DeConnick (script) and David Lopez (art) - this third volume of the adventures of Carol Danvers aka Captain Marvel, who started her superhero career as the explicitly feminist Ms. Marvel, finds Carol and her cat Chewie as the Avengers' liaisons to non-terrestrial civilizations. Along the way Carol saves a doomed civilization, makes new friends, insults Rocket Raccoon, and makes it abundantly clear why she's getting her own movie in 2018. Great writing, great art, and plenty of fun.
Ms. Marvel: No Normal, by G. Willow Wilson (script) and Adrian Alphona (art) - Kamala Khan is many things: devout Muslim, honors students, Avengers fanatic, fanfic addict, and all-American sixteen year old. Finding out that she's got super-powers (just like her idol Carol Danvers!) and deciding how she's going to use her new abilities while still making her curfew, keeping up her grades, and remaining true to herself isn't easy, but Kamala's determined to try. G. Willow Wilson's plotting and dialogue are perfection, Adrian Alphona's art is sly, funny, and a match for the writing, and the book is a delight from beginning to end. Best superhero origin in years.
Saga, Volume I, by Brian K. Vaughn (script) and Fiona Staples (art) - this story of two soldiers from opposite sides of a galactic war who fall in love, marry, and raise their daughter in the face of incredible odds won the Hugo for best graphic novel last year, as well as Eisner Awards for comic writing in 2013 and 2014. Brilliant art by Fiona Staples, strong writing by Brian K. Vaughn, and some of the best, most distinctive characters in years (I am in love iwth the Lying Cat) make this a must-have for your pull list.
Modesty Blaise: The Gabriel Set-Up, by Peter O'Donnell (script) and Jim Holdaway (art) - Modesty Blaise, the prototype of every brilliant, daring, gorgeous female superspy from Emma Peel to Natasha Romanoff, first appeared in a comic strip in 1963 and has had a loyal following ever since. Titan Books has been reprinting her strip adventures for several years now, and the combination of terrific writing, great characters (especially Modesty's sidekick Willie Garvin), and superb art from Jim Holdaway add up to a real treat. This first collection is a great starting point, but I warn you: Modesty and her adventures are addicting, so don't blame me if you end up blowing your mortgage buying up every one you can find.
Movies:
Captain America: The Winter Soldier - what appears at first glance to be yet another in Marvel's endless series of superhero films turns out to be a taut, tense, perfectly paced political allegory. Steve Rogers, the man out of time, finds his New Deal idealism pitted directly against a modern world of drone strikes, data mining, and backstabbing Real Politik in an action film that doubles as a cautionary tale of government run amok. Terrific action sequences, great writing, and a surprising amount of heart and wit elevate this well beyond the usual superheroics. Bonus: the Blu-Ray includes a gag reel that includes Robert Redford sticking out his tongue after he blows his line, Anthony Mackie inadvertently inviting his co-stars to perform a sexual act, and Chris Evans tersely commenting that he's going to blow this popsicle stand.
Snowpiercer - a dystopia starring a mixed cast of American, British, and South Korean actors, directed in Prague by a South Korean, and based on a French graphic novel, sounds like a recipe for disaster - but the resulting film is not only one of the best of the year, but possibly the best dystopian SF since Terry Gilliam's magnificent Brazil. Stunningly beautiful set design and cinematography, perfect direction, and a stellar cast (Ed Harris, Song Kang-Ho, Octavia Spencer, Jamie Bell, John Hurt, Chris Evans, and Tilda Swinton, the latter of whom turn in Oscar-worthy performances) combine in a dark, bloody, and frequently very, very funny allegory of climate change and class warfare. Bonus features include an animated prologue and two galleries of the concept art. If you buy one movie this year, this should be it.
The Monuments Men - a stellar cast and an important message on the value of art even in the worst of times lift this film above a sometimes inconsistent script that wavers between farce and tragedy. George Clooney directs and stars in the story of the Monuments Men, the band of artists and art historians who were tasked with saving the cultural patrimony of Europe during World War II, and then with restoring stolen art to its rightful owners. The excellent cast includes Matt Damon, Bill Murray, John Goodman, Jean Dujardin, and Bob Balaban, with cameos by Michaelangelo's Madonna of Bruges, the Ghent Altarpiece, and Rembrandt self-portrait.
The Giant Claw (part of the Icons of Horror Collection) - normally I could not in good conscience recommend this to anyone who wasn't already into bad movies. It's badly acted, badly shot, badly written, and features a marionette that appears to be an unholy mashup of turkey, Andean cock of the rock, and raptor in the title role. It's a genuinely terrible film, and it absolutely does not belong in the company of the above trio...
Except that somehow, some way, the titular monster has become an unofficial mascot of these diaries. I have no idea what this means (nor can I ever profit from it, since The Giant Claw is copyrighted by someone else, lucky them!), but since the GIANT TURKEY PUPPET O'DOOM (GTPOD) keeps cropping up in the comments, I figured I'd give everyone a chance to see what all the fuss is about.
Finally, my own work, with links:
As Lisa Evans, quilt historian and independent scholar:
"'The Same Quilte Being Olde and Worene:' The Mystery of Henry VIII's Green Quilt," in Medieval Clothing and Textiles 4, ed. Robin Netherton and Gale Owen-Crocker - did you know Henry VIII had over a hundred quilts? And one of them might have figured in his divorce from Catherine of Aragon? My first paper for this hardcover journal series reportedly had one of the editors all but in tears, and not for the reasons you might think.
"Anomaly or Sole Survivor? The Impruneta Cushion and Early Italian 'Patchwork'" in Medieval Clothing and Textiles 8, ed. Robin Netherton and Gale Owen-Crocker - this is the first paper in English on a rare textile: the patchwork funerary cushion of Bishop Antonio degli Agli, who died in 1477. Perfect for anyone who still believes that patchwork is modern, American, or exclusively calico.
"Forward Into the Past: Reenactors and the Quest for Authenticity" in "Can These Bones Come to Life?" Insights from Reconstruction, Reenactment, and Re-Creation, ed. Michael A. Cramer - reenactors have an uneasy relationship with academia, not least because recreating the material culture of the past may or may not take the latest research into account. This paper, part of the proceedings from the "Can These Bones Come to Life?" panels at the Kalamazoo Medieval Studies Congress, argues that scholars and reenactors have much to teach each other, with a look at perhaps the most successful collaboration to date: The Plimoth Jacket project, which drew upon both worlds to bring a lost embroidery technique to breathtaking life.
As Sarah Ellis, purveyor of fine erotica:
"Sisters Are Doing It For Themselves" in Spellbinding: Tales from the Magic University, ed. Cecilia Tan - Cecilia Tan's Magic University series is set at a magical version of Harvard, Veritas, where magic, sex, and poetry are inextricably linked. My contribution to this anthology of stories set in the same universe is set at Collegium Sophia, the magical version of Smith College, and shows that magical sisterhood has its own power.
"The Place Where Heroes Are Made" in What Happens at the Tavern Stays at the Tavern, ed. Andrea Levine - where do heroes come from? What happens when they die too young and leave no one to carry on their name? How can an ordinary family ensure that the brave, the strong, and the god-touched do not give their lives in vain? How does a night of passion answer these questions? "What happens at the tavern...stays in the tavern...."
Have fun, everybody!
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Do you have any shopping recs? Any books, movies, or shops that could use some love? Do you have anything to peddle yourself? Share the wealth below, and try not to step on the Double Felinoid as they skitter across the floor....
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