Years ago I traveled to England. On two separate occasions I hoped to tour Arundel Castle only to find that it was the wrong time of the year, that it was closed or in the midst of repairs. I think I mentioned this before in a previous post but a recent visit to the blog Paris Parfait brought it back to mind.
I was thrilled to find that Tara had added a wonderful post on Arundel Castle. Through Castle Views I finally had the opportunity to peek inside and now you can too. Come. Follow me...
As a little girl, my mother used to tell me how my nana had these darling toaster cover dolls in the kitchen when she was little. One day I came across two at a yard sale in San Pedro. I think I paid something like $5 for both.
At that time and age, I knew and cared nothing about the "mammy" image controversy. I only knew that I had fallen in love with their big soft eyes and kind faces. I especially loved the fact that once upon a time, my mother grew up with these same types of dolls. They connected me to my grandma who is no longer with us.
Years went by and I continued to pick them up never paying more than a few dollars. Heck. One of these ladies only cost me a quarter. They can still be easily found in antique malls. Usually they are priced between $20-$40. Of course now the challenge is on never pay more than a few dollars for one.
Some are missing their curtain hoop earrings. The kerchief keeps falling off the pretty head of another. One of these days I'll remove all removal parts and give them a warm bath.
This one with the red dress was one of the first two. The second one that came home with me is dressed in green.
When you flip them over you can easily see the covered piece of cardboard that enabled them to be propped up over a toaster or bread box.
Her face says HUG ME.
A couple of them look kinda funky. This one with the button eyes for example. Oh I love them just the same, maybe even more so because they're funky.
One of my most intriguing of the these toaster dolls is buried somewhere in storage. She was made with a head at opposite ends. I forget what these dolls were originally called, but you can flip her over and display one head at a time. Most fascinating about her however is that one pretty little head is covered with curly "blond" yarn meant to mimic hair. Her eyes are not buttons but instead embroidered in bright blue. I have never seen another like her. One of these days she will show up and I promise to share her.
Harem. The World Behind The Veil by Alev Lytle Croutier. This fascinating book is so chock full of interesting tidbits it's difficult to know where to begin. Maybe I'll just start off talking about the photos I posted (in no particular order) and see where this leads me.
3 women sit below without their veils in a Turkish harem. Accompanying this photo is an interesting account on the importance of making a proper cup of Turkish coffee, back in the day. As I sit here sipping on chocolate black tea, I am now craving a hot cup of coffee. Turkish coffee to be specific. Curious. According to the author it was not considered good form for harem women to indulge in coffee or alcohol, although the demand was upon them to make a darn tasty cup of it.
Harem women also served a popular Turkish drink called Raku which is said to be similar to absinthe (yeah, I 'm curious about that too.) Here is an interesting link for all of you who are into collecting absinthe collectibles.
Time out. Click on the video for a little mood music before proceeding please. Okay, carry on.
This next image is by John Singer Sargent circa 1880. I had not seen it before. Beautiful.
Here you see two eunuchs seated before a harem. Admittedly this particular chapter is verrrrrry interesting. I rambled on about this subject in great detail to the husband on the way to see Michael Jackson. We never made it. We were running late and became detoured by two estate sales. But I digress. Back to the eunuchs. The husband was not amused.
I was surprised to learn that eunuchs begin to show up in way early Mesopotamia. Queens began castrating male slaves in 9th century B.C. It's difficult to believe that anyone would willingly choose to be castrated. Apparently some men did.
This image was staged by an American photographer. Well I'll be. I just noticed that it looks like she is smoking a cigarette. Didn't notice that at first. The smoking of tobacco and the use of water pipes was a common past time in some harems. It was not something that was done in front of men.
An Algerian and Her Slave, circa 1860, Oil on Canvas, Musee National des Arts Africains et Oceaniens, Paris.
The Reception, 1873 Oil on panel, John Frederick Lewis.
A traditional wedding dress in red velvet and embellished with gold embroidery.
The Siesta, John Frederick Lewis, 1876, Oil on canvas, Tate Gallery London. The author writes "An opiated beauty sinks into oblivion."
Another staged photo of a women in "typical" harem outfit.
This photo shows an actual hall where Sultans were entertained by women of the harem. I'm sure that this picture does not do the real site justice. I imagine that it is much more beautiful in person.
The White Slave, 1888, Jean-Jules-Antoine Lecomte de Nuoy.
This next image I find to be especially intriguing. It illustrates the inside of a palace and shows a harem going about its normal daily affairs. The fact that it dates back to the 16th century is even more thrilling. For me at least. I get giddy over this sort of thing. I am lucky to have a hubby that lets me ramble on about eunuchs and water pipes.
My hands are giving out. There is enough in this incredible book for a billion and one posts. I shall carry on another day. But before I go...
MARA BEBOOS
Kiss me
kiss me
For one last time
May God be with you
For I go toward my destiny
Our spring has passed
The bygones are bygones
I am in
To light up the mountains with fire.
I travel in the dark of the night.
I am in search of destiny
Mara beboos as translated by Rouben Rostamian.
Years ago a dear co-worker surprised me by taking me to a Mid-Eastern restaurant for lunch. Softly playing in the background was some of the most beautiful strings I had ever heard. Weeks passed and one day she appeared in front of me with a cassette of this very same music.
The beautiful notes of Farid Farjad never left my heart and soul. His version of the classic Persian song Mara Beboos is still my fave but there are countless versions out in there. In the post I have shared two of them. Beautiful and haunting in almost any version, my list of different versions of this song is continuously growing.
The song also reminds me of my father who never knew the words but who said that the song made him sad when I first played it for him. For you daddy.
Whenever I hear music
I dream dreams;Of my dreams.
Or Castillian lady fair,
Shy and sweet,
With an Irish jig and reel
Beneath my feet;
Or a Chinese dancing girl,
With my silken blouse awhirl
Entertaining at an Oriental fete.
Sometimes I am a quiet
Quaker maid,
Not dancing! No, just walking
Prim and staid;
Or a colonial belle of grace,
Weaving a many dainty pace.
In the minuet, as danced
By man and maid.
For the magic of the music,
So it seems,
Sets the stage, and over all
Bright color gleams,
Wrought by tempo, harmony,
By inventive melody.
Whenever I hear music
I dream dreams.
By Mina Morris Scott Circa 1940
I discovered this poem in a book that I unearthed at our local flea market. It reminded me of how much music has meant to me over the course of my life. It's part of me like the air I breathe, marking every major moment during my life.
Just today I heard an electric guitar loud and bold. It was played so sweet that I was reminded of a Stradivarius.
And of Pavarotti's version of Nessun Dorma.
Some music reminds me of cruising through Italy. "California Love" sung by Tupac takes me back to dancing in Amsterdam, of all places. Surrounded and laughing with a busload of new Australian friends.
More recently, Seagull reminded me of what it felt like to be 15 and sitting under the moonlight with good friends. Not a care in the world. The only melodrama in our lives being that which we conjured up ourselves in that overwrought teenage way.
Through music I can travel anywhere and everywhere at will, across seas and most importantly, back across time.
Thanks to the THE GRAPHICS FAIRY for the dancing girl in the flower covered dress.
"And I have a theory. That there is something in the Italian landscape which inclines even the most solid nature to romance."
Just a simple little box. I discovered it one fine day at the local flea market. I remember that it was tossed in a cardboard box with whole bunch of stuff that was nowhere near as old. That's why it stood out so much. How did it get to be there?
The wonderful, warm ancient gold patina. Well, ancient to me. It appeared to be original.
This next photo is simply dreadful and not very crisp, but you can just barely detect a tiny pinhole in the red center. I can't help but wonder what it was there.
The delicate swirls appear to be hand painted.
And somewhere along the line someone scratched the words Made in Italy on the bottom. I had guessed right! It looked like something that had come from Florence. My gut instinct tells me that it's Victorian. Turn of the century maybe. Perhaps Lucy held it gently in her hands and thought of George.
Oh wait. That was make believe.
When I opened the box I found a few little treasures. Now what does one do with something like this in their possession?
Take care of it. Love and admire it. Treasure it and leave it behind for someone else to discover someday, to wonder where it has been.
"And I divined it Charlotte. You had an adventure there. Feign to deny it."
Oops. My book on harems is postponed for another day.
Wouldn't we all wish to be Lucy on that hillside...
Yesterday was my first day back as a volunteer in the shop at HERITAGE HOUSE. Heritage House closes over the summer because of the intense heat in this neck of the woods.
I waited until the last moments before putting on my get-up, to throw together a hat for the occasion. I had planned to just glue gun everything on to the hat. But because the hat was vintage (40's-50's?) I discovered that I didn't have the heart to abuse it with a glue gun. This meant that I had to quickly, half a** , stitch the bare minimum on. I was in danger of leaving a trail of fake leaves and feathers behind me the whole afternoon.
I couldn't stop myself from gazing at my boots in-between guests.
I am so enamored by them. I won them on Ebay last year after many attempts and hard battles. They're 1/2 size too big. More on that later.
I have another pair in black that are too big for me to wear:
This black pair is by someone else entirely although there is no clue on the shoes as to who. Oops. I forgot to mention that the brown pair are by Stuart Weitzman. The black pair is a size 8, wide and are in wonderful condition. I do have them currently listed for sale anywhere but if anyone is interested in them, do let me know.
An Easy Street Vintage on Etsy has a black pair of Stuart Weitzman lace ups in size 6.5. available. Stuart Weitzman also made a pair some time ago that button up the side just like an antique pair. Stunning and beautiful. I have only see these come once on Ebay in the last year but man oh man how I want them. But I digress. I had no intention of waxing poetic about boots.
In between visitors I poked through the books we have for sale.
I learned that in April 1906, a circus came to town. Tragically an elephant escaped and trampled some poor woman to death. My husband reminded me later about a house near downtown referred to as Elephant House. I can't remember if there is a connection or not. My husband seems to think so. I shall pursue more about this tale later.
This building use to stand about a mile from my house.
I was quite taken with the exterior of this small building. I announced to my husband that someday I want my own little shop and that I want it to look just like this. I can see it now. I forget what the fellow in front did mainly for a living. I know that it was something like account/undertaker. Reminds me of the donut shop not far from here that sells do-nuts, croissants and eggrolls. And this reminds me of the delicious California eggrolls I had from the hamburger stand below below my house, over the weekend. They were so tasty I made my husband ask if they had made them fresh. They replied that yes they did. Yum. But I digress...
Well now for my secret. Yesterday I was running late to Heritage House because I was busy stabbing myself with a sewing needle. I raced into my bedroom and began flinging socks to and fro, searching for my hunting socks that I purchased years ago at Meir's in Michigan. Because my beloved Weitzman boots are just a tad big, I much prefer to wear them with super thick hunting socks. Never mind that I shant ever understand hunting. Never never.
As luck would have it I could only find one. Oh hell. I figured that as long as I didn't flip over feet first for some fool reason I would be okay. I was. No one was none the wiser. Afterwards, as Eggbert and I walked up the stairs to our humble abode, I said hey! Check this out! Up went the hem of my skirt. The husband wasn't shocked in the least. He knows me too well.
I fell in love with her the minute I saw her. She was propped way up high on a shelf at a local vintage clothing store. Her bold and happy colors, her awkwardness. I felt sorry for her too.
Nobody wanted you before me?
She's a big girl, measuring about 24 x 30 inches. Doesn't go with a thing in my home. But then again, not much of anything is matchy matchy with anything else in here. My house is a house filled with neat things that catch our fancy. This oil painting definitely caught mine.
She is such a total 60's girl I can't help but wish that I could close my eyes (again) and see for myself who created her. I always want to know where and how my things came to be. Someday my things will outlive me.
I've had this reusable shopper for a couple of years now and it's one of my faves. I picked it up from Mr's Tiggy Winkles. I'm not sure if she carries them any longer but they can also be found here at Blue Q. I wish that I could buy a whole bunch of them just because it's so darn pretty. But then again, I'm partial to Botticelli. She is a Botticelli, no? Correct me if I'm wrong. A Madonna by Botticelli is pure beauty. You will definitely want to hang this somewhere where you can catch a good glimpse of it every chance you get.
I'm typing this with one hand and a sleeping chihuahua dozing in front of my keypad. This Pappa Do has got to go. Spoiled boy.