And, oh my, the clothes. That scene where Annie, dressed again after the tennis match where she meets Alvy, emerges in her loose khaki pants, man’s shirt, waistcoat that unbuttons to reveal a wide tie, her hat framing her face, her sisal tote bag slung over her shoulder — that is the scene that launched a million ill-advised teenaged girls’ attempts at men’s wear.

from Annie Hall and Shopping Menswear

I’ve never owned a bucket bag, but I’ve riffed on the rest of the Annie Hall look at various stages of my life. I was a wee child when the film came out but Annie was still cool in 1988, 1992, 1997, 2003. I could never relate to her nerve-wracking flightiness but I could to the carefully rumpled three-piece suit. It said (and says), “I’m almost too smart to touch down properly.”

My favorite of my riffs: During a careful combing of an Ohio thriftstore, I landed a black twill three-piece suit straight out of the 70s. Meaning: polyester. And TIGHT. It was garishly tight for the non-fashion, non-fit of the 90s, but I braved the public in it anyway. I loved the jacket’s wide lapel and playing with loosely knotted ties under the vest. I think I wore the whole suit twice, I got so overheated in it.

The white button-down shirt was almost an afterthought. Until recently, I’ve avoided classic collared shirts, unless you count the 90s flannels. I tend to wear tunics or blouses, and in my previous life in a not-so-swelteringly-hot climate I layered sweaters and blazers so much it didn’t matter what was underneath. Usually a worn-out rock t-shirt.

There was the issue of the button-down’s connection to preppiness. I disassociated from anything remotely preppy after the 8th grade (1984, the height of Preppy). It was too cautious, too prim, for me. In my years as a waiter I went through too many white shirts, bleaching, pressing and starching them daily. At one particular restaurant, the boss’s sister ran the floor during the afternoons and made it her business to inspect the cleanliness and neatness of her staff to nitpicking proportions. I was so paranoid that the uniform-police would get me that I gave up on all-cotton shirts because they wrinkled too quickly. Everything about white shirt screamed professional and conservative.

But I’ve been on a black and white kick lately. The only thing that looks good with those black tuxedo pants is the white shirt. And the best white shirt is the one that looks stolen, Diane Keaton-style. And who could forget the Roman Holiday version? I might need those bangles, too.

One more thing: I’ve started a new blog called Cloth Habit, devoted entirely to sewing! I’m blogging about sewing my way through classic pieces, starting with the white shirt; so if you’re interested in shirt-making details, take a lookee.

I’d love to be able to document some of my sewing projects but it’s a huge amount of work to get them photographed properly. I admire bloggers who seem to have personal paparazzi following them around. Ha.

Joining the sew-along was a fun excuse to set project goals. I’m terrible with self-imposed goals. It was also an attempt to cultivate a bit of interactivity. I wanted to try out blogging as community. I realize I’m terribly late to that game but I have an ongoing argument with myself about blog- and social networking.

My blogs of the past became more like detailed records of my own process that I could come back to later–they just happened to be online for the benefit of all to see. I can be a pretty extreme introvert so for the longest time I wanted to believe I could write it, publish it, and leave it. No comments, no network. But I’m a writer and well, writers need an audience that reads, right? In this medium, one starts to wonder if static, un-commented information will ever be useful information.

I also have serious phases with subjects so I have a hard time keeping up with any one blog sector. (But confess an ongoing weakness for a certain Antique Rose discussion forum–I can get completely immersed in the minutiae of rose-growing.)

Specialized blogging communities, such as the online sewing community, thrive on online friendships, communication between blogs, participation in sewing boards, etc. While I enjoy and learn so much from the thousands of sewing blogs, and am genuinely thankful for the revival of sewing as craft, most of the best blogs are really a part of a blogging community. Otherwise, a specialty blog is a little pedantic in its details.

But I digress. In the end, I found that the sew-along moved too fast for my personal pace. I wasn’t able to sew or keep up with comments fast enough. Considered thought and conversation on the host blog ended up in the techno-ether of “older/previous comments” and lots of questions went unanswered. What is that “space” that scrolls off the screen? Facebook purgatory?

All this said, I finished the coat in November but haven’t gotten around to wearing it yet. So far, I’ve developed this strange habit of not wearing the things I sew–not that I don’t like them, but after hours of working on some projects they can lose their freshness. I can only see details, not silhouettes. I hope I can “see” the whole of this coat again because I think it’s quite lovely and unusual compared to my other jackets.

Day 14. Thursday. Today was neutering day. I didn’t want to set a trap overnight and generally make his life more terrifying than it already is so I decided I’d start “trap-training” him. I tied a trap permanently open, lined it with a soft towel and put a big bowl of food in before I went to bed last night. It was all gone in the morning. It might take a week but I hope I can get him going willfully into a trap or crate for his own vet visit soon. The rest of the kittens are at the vet today and I’m not looking forward to bringing home three little droggy, coneheaded kittens. It’s always hard to watch animals drugged and vulnerable–even the feral cats, with whom I have less of a bond than my indoor dogs and cats. But at least the vet visits will be done for awhile for these three. Cats really hate being in cars and yowled all the way there, banging relentlessly on their kennels.

Despite his best intentions, Leo just managed to irritate Jude, so I corralled him back out. Jude then disappeared into one of the bookshelves in the afternoon and I couldn’t see him anywhere. He was quiet all afternoon, probably sleeping. He’s much more nocturnal than the other kittens. I put a big bowl of dry food out before we left to visit friends in the evening. We got home close to midnight and while I couldn’t see him anywhere, he’d at least left his hiding spot long enough to eat the entire bowl.

Day 10.Monday, February 28. Tough love day.

I only put food out while I was in the room. Definitely tough. Jude hid behind the bookshelves all day. In the morning, he took over an hour to come out and eat and didn’t eat much. Later in the evening, I put out some especially tasty wet food that the other kittens love. Again, it took him an hour but he came out and ate a whole can so I put another half a can out, which he came back out to eat. On Thursday I have a cat appointment to get all four kittens neutered and am wondering if it will be at all possible to re-trap, since he is still in hiding.

Day 11. Tuesday. All sorts of wonderful developments today!

First, Jude didn’t so much as peep last night–not a single meow or caterwaul.

Second, Leo the Shy opened some new sides of his personality. Leo has been the most temperamental of my original kittens and never lets me pet him unless cornered, pick him up unless cornered, and plays with me from a distance. Today I needed to corral them quickly and Leo actually let me pick him up from the middle of the room without taking off in fear. Later in the evening he jumped up on my chair and cuddled next to me, purring. He has never once done this in three months.

This morning I went in to feed Jude and after 45 minutes he still wouldn’t come out for food. I thought I should try letting the kittens in again to get him motivated by anything but hiding. Sure enough, he came out from behind the bookshelf several times, once out of interest in the little plastic ornament that Leo was batting around the room. But he didn’t eat much.

I don’t like how little he is eating so I thought I’d try something different in the evening–perhaps feed them all together. I put a big bowl of dry food in the room and let the kittens in again. As soon as they started eating Jude was out and waiting for his turn, even pushing his nose into Sasha’s for room at the bowl.

During both visits, Leo was relentless with Jude, chasing him into every hiding corner and swatting at him. While Sasha and Snow wandered off out of boredom and tiring of Jude’s grumbles and hiding, Leo kept going. At first I couldn’t tell if he was trying to play or trying to be dominant (or both). For at least an hour it was all Jude could do to get away from this nagging little ginger tabby and Leo got clawed a couple of times. The persistence paid off, because eventually Jude gave up and launched into a full-throttled game of kitten ambush. Up and down and up and down the cat tower they went after each other, finishing off with a game of spinning tornadoes in the litterbox (Leo’s favorite activity, responsible for a wide spray of litter on the floor every day).

Perhaps his play instincts went into effect when I pulled out The Feather Toy. Take something that you can squiggle, squirm and whip through the air, add kittens and you get the crazies. (Have I mentioned “the crazies” before?) After several minutes of watching from his hiding spot, Jude decided to come out and see for himself. He watched from a safe distance a couple of feet away, but intently and very cat-keen on each flick of the feather.

As I write, Leo and Jude have completely worn each other out and Leo is sleeping next to me on the chair, with Jude sleeping in the cat tree right next to the chair!

So color me red, this cat is actually interested in something other than fear!

So far he seems intent on finding a way out. He made it through most of my wall to wall bookshelves (not a great idea for a kitten room, but hey, it’s the only office I have), getting as high as he could and jumping on each window ledge crying at the outside.

I decided to let Sasha in for a brief period in the evening to see if that helped. After Sasha went through some initial fright and tail-puffing at seeing Jude out of the cage, he went over to check him out under a chair. Jude turned his back firmly on Sasha–cat language for “No way, dude”. Sasha tried a few more approaches but none of them worked and one ended in a little growling.

Day 9. Jude spent the night out of the cage. I could hear him jumping around in the room and yowling occasionally. I’m just going to have to leave him out of the cage because there’s no luring him back in. He’s spending most of his time under the chair.

This morning, I put some food under the chair and he ate a few bites but went back into hiding. I let all three kittens in the room just to see what might happen and Jude got as high as he could on the window ledge to get away from them. Leo seemed the most interested in playing and tried several times to bat at Jude but all he wanted to do was get away. I could tell mostly from his tail, which was swishing in an agitated way.

After a week, he is still terrified. I really hope things improve this week or I’ll start to wonder again if I did the right thing.

In other news, Titian, momma to all these kittens, has been MIA for over two days. She is always waiting to be fed in the morning and this is the 3rd morning I haven’t seen her. Very unlike her. Last night, while I was in the room with Jude, I started hearing her distinct kitten call, which sent him into a whimpering meow. She must have been out in the driveway trying to find him–he is the last of her kittens and unlike her other litters she didn’t have to leave them at three or four months to go have yet another litter. I’m sure she was very bonded to him… I hope this doesn’t take her far and she comes back home permanently.

Jude doesn’t want to get near his evening meal. I tried putting it under the chair where he was hiding and then back in the cage but after an hour he still wouldn’t touch it. I hate to pull it away but after a week it seems okay to remove the “free lunches”. I want him to associate me with food.

The other kittens are quite used to their cage–they always eat in it. In the beginning, containing them all day in the cage worked because they were very small and not as eager to get out and explore. It was big enough to contain their kitten play, while giving me an opportunity to get close. (Now it’s all I can do to keep them from running through every open door in the house.)

At his age, Jude just looks trapped, and that could be why all the caterwauling. If I let him out, he’d have at least one room to explore and choose his approach. I let the kittens in the room once or twice today which gets his interest but I’d rather let him choose how to interact with them rather than be ambushed. Thankfully, he ate twice today and both times while I was in the room so he’s definitely hungry enough to show himself now.

I spent the evening arranging and kitten-proofing the room. We had to move his cage across the room and this really sent him into a spitting and hissing freak-out–he hid in his litterbox for over an hour. Once things were all organized, I put some food in his cage and left the door open. After 30 minutes I heard him eating and looked up to see him standing tentatively at the opening. Don’t think he’ll come out with me there, so I’ll try again tomorrow.

Maybe I’ll even let Sasha in to show him the ropes. What if Jude is in heat? And what if I can’t get him into a cat carrier in time for his appointment next week?

Routines are laughable with kittens, but at least when they were in my office I could contain the madness. They had a semi-routine, napping long into the afternoon on my office chair, playing in the evening, then going back into their cage. We moved their cage out into the living room when Jude moved in. They spend most of their freedom running like banshees all over the house. This morning they woke up with a serious case of the “crazies” and immediately upon getting out of the cage launched into the notorious kitten game of ambush–one hides or gets in what seems to be the “castle” of the moment–a box, a drawer, under the couch, on top of the bookshelf, the others vigorously go after him. Kittens are hysterical–they enact mock battles with defender and attacker.

Meanwhile, in my office, Jude was sleeping up in his hidden corner of the cage. He’d been crying half of the night again. I really needed him to finish his food so he could take the worming medicine I put in it. He was looking like it might take him hours to move so I let the crazies in the room to at least stir his attention. Before I knew it, Leo was on the top of the cage, trying to bat playfully at Jude and Sasha was circling around the cage. Kitten ambush. I’m not sure if he liked this or not but he made a bunch of chirruping sounds and came down to eat!

Jude has beautiful soft velvety paws and a mixture of chocolate and tan stripes. He’s fluffy and fat and his head is twice the size of his brother Sasha’s. That extra month of mother’s milk must’ve been like kitten steroids. And there’s no doubt who his father is; he’s the spitting image of the dominant tomcat we like to call “Bob”.

We have a daily activity called Oh No, It’s Bob Again. I know the routine so well that I don’t have to look: it all starts with a series of low, emitted groans followed by one loud screech. Purple, our enormous Russian blue tom, is the first to arrive on the scene. Bruiser and Fat-face follow. Four toms, two neutered, but all in the mood to fight. Bruiser likes head-butting. Purple likes jumping in the middle, but he always looks stupified and confused. Fat-face was our first alpha and the firestarter, but neutering has calmed him down considerably. So he’ll make a noise then lay down or run. Nine times out of 10, Bob’s very loud challenging swipes the front porch clean of all cats.

Some days when the Oh No, It’s Bob Again starts up, Teddy, our tamest and sweetest boy, accidentally gets caught in the middle and I’ve seen all four go after him, chasing him up a tree. Um, a psychologist might call this misplaced projection!

Back to Jude, whom I’d love to save from this madness. I know he is going to be a much longer process than the other kittens. After four days the smaller kittens were so young and desperate to be touched, they started rubbing themselves against the feather toys I stuck in their cages. It took about two weeks to be able to pet them. While they remained aloof and disinterested in me for over a month, unless I had baby food or a really interesting toy, they were nonetheless safe to pick up and pet. Jude has spent the better part of four days hiding in the top of the cage, hissing if I get too close.

I decided to withhold food last night. He’s only had one tiny can of food in four days, but I figure that he’s getting hungry enough to eat in my presence now. He took a few bites this morning before hiding again.

Ok, decent start.

I admit I coaxed him out of his hiding by letting the other kittens come look at him. They’d been dying of kitten curiosity since I trapped him anyway. Sasha was the first to walk up to the cage, letting out little chirrup-y trills (is this a good thing? I must study cat noises) and sticking his paw in to try and touch Jude. Surprisingly, Jude came down from his hidden perch out of his curiosity. There were a few hisses and growls, but nothing major.

At least I know what gets him interested. It’s going to be at least a week before I feel okay about letting him out into the room, or letting him possibly play with the others. I definitely don’t want him reinforcing any kind of feral behavior with them.

The capture of the first three was such a traumatic experience, listening to the cats crying all night alternating with mom crying for her kittens in our driveway for three days–and living with several weeks of timid cats who wouldn’t return any of the love I wanted to give them. I had to resist the urge to feel I had done a terrible thing, by taking them from their only sense of care and love.

{left to right: snow, leo, sasha at 8 weeks}

I’m not a good personality for working in a hospital, human or animal. Trauma intervention is not my thing. I squirm at needles in television shows, I’m notorious for squinting or leaving the room during intense action flicks.

But these cats have tugged at my heart, causing me to do things way beyond my stress thresholds. I’m happy to see the original three kittens becoming loving, playful and trusting house creatures. This is what gets people into socializing ferals in the first place–anyone who’s done it describes it as an incredibly rewarding experience.

For the past three months, as his brothers got tamer and tamer, little Jude roamed about our property, slowly becoming more independent and starting to feed off my porch with the rest of the “peanut gallery”, as I like to call the feral cats who come to us for food. Christmas came and went, then Valentines Day and while I tried to be happy with what I had done, I couldn’t bear the possibility that he would end up like the rest of these outdoor ferals. They are as happy as they can be under the circumstances, but I simply don’t believe this is the best life for them. If there was any, any chance that this ktiten could live a more fulfilled, long kitty life, free of fear and fighting, mating and hiding from the elements, then I wanted him to have it.

I had read over and over that taming a kitten past 8 weeks was nearly impossible, but for some reason I couldn’t let the idea go. I prepared to trap him by luring him into a trap daily to eat, slowly moving his food further and further into the trap. He seemed to be the only one willing to walk into the trap since he was small enough.

So now I have him “safe” and secure in my makeshift cat nursery–what used to be my office, now overflowing with cat toys, litterboxes and climbing towers. He has huddled in a corner of his cat cage for over a day, scared and meowing (mostly through the night, argh), refusing to eat. He even buried his food in the litter, along with spreading said all over the bottom of the cage.

I learned from trapping the first three that it is best to keep them confined in the beginning–at least to calm them down and let them see the environment before being released into it. I made the mistake of releasing the first three a week after I trapped them and it took over an hour of chasing them about from behind their clever hiding spaces–risking biting and clawing.

Since I have been in a bit of a creative lull lately, especially on this blog, I felt I might journal some of the process of working with the kitten. Perhaps there are others out there who passionate about animal restoration, or want to help the feral cats that are inevitably in their neighborhoods. I hope this helps and inspires you.

And then came a terrible arctic front–a record-setting freeze over 3 days that just about killed half of my very un-hardy garden. So long, alyssum, snapdragons and all of my beloved sweet pea vines. I think I may have just lost my lemon tree but I haven’t the heart to look into my back garden to consider all the damage.

Normally, when I dream of spring, I dream of coral and pale shell-colored roses. Yellow is just not a color I like to paint, plant, photograph or wear. But seeing it in Marc Jacobs fun spring collection got me rethinking my aversion.

I really love this whole collection–the maroons with the yellows with the peaches. And I really love the whole 70s groove. Nonchalant and bold at the same time.

You can get an idea of his entire color scheme from just the thumbnails:

I’ve noticed all kinds of 70s peasant-y tops and dresses for spring. Here’s another lovely take on the 70s peasant vibe in a cotton poplin, again in yellow, by Salvatore Ferragamo:

I’m thinking peasant styles are perfect idea for yellow. During a recent trip to the mind-blowing fabric shop that is Britex in San Francisco, I got the staff happily pulling out every sub-shade of yellow silk–pale yellows, marigolds, tangerines, butterscotches. It’s great fun talking color with the folks at Britex… and I came away with a few beautiful fabrics with which to attempt my own blouse.

Wouldn’t be hard to sew, at all. I love hunting down the right pattern–seems like trawling Etsy has turned into a favorite pastime. Some of the vintage peasant/poet blouse patterns out there are a little too big and billowy for me. I’d like to make something a little more pared down, possibly with buttons, like these two. I think the vintage pattern (on the left) will win out because it’s only $5.