Showing posts with label David Bowie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Bowie. Show all posts

Friday, April 29, 2022

Ziggy Azalea: Stellar Spring

This afternoon, I stepped out onto my front porch to fetch a package and discovered that . . . the azaleas are here!  The azaleas are here!  The azaleas are here and, with them, finally spring!

That's all.  You can go back to what you were doing.  

And perhaps enjoy your own garden of the galaxy. 

Sunday, February 23, 2020

Modern Love and 2000 Gushes


Unicorn Universe Necklace

Top: Vylette, Kohl's
Skirt: Tinseltown, Kohl's
Bag: B&B
Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's
Belt: Marshalls
Barrettes: The Tote Trove
Tricolor and green spike bracelets: Amrita Singh, Zulily
Neon green bracelet: Cloud Nine
Rainbow, yellow, and pink bracelets: So, Kohl's

This post isn't about David Bowie.  But "Modern Love" is my favorite Bowie song (I know, I thought it would be "Ziggy Stardust," too), and it kind of fits here.  Even if I am using "love" loosely to cover both the romantic and sisterly kinds.

But upward and onward.  

What would Louisa May Alcott's Little Women be like if Jo was a journalist-turned-food-blogger in lust with a world-famous chef?  Or if Beth had lived and was an aspiring country singer?  Or if Pa March finally got his comeuppance for leaving Ma and his girls all alone?  Virginia Kantra answers these questions and others in Meg & Jo, a "contemporary retelling of Little Women" (just like it says on the cover).  


Set in modern-day North Carolina instead of Civil War Massachusetts, Meg & Jo showcases the timelessness of Alcott's treasured tour de force.  Because the more things change, the more they stay the same.  The story is still about the social dynamics at work among sisters, the little alliances and rivalries that bind and separate.  Due to birth order, Meg and Jo are besties, as are Beth and Amy.  But Jo references how Beth is her baby and how Amy is Meg's, revealing other alliances.  Finally, there's the friction between Jo and Amy.  On the surface, it seems to stem from them being so different -- Jo is the tomboy, Amy the porcelain doll -- or from vying for the affections of the boy next store.  But their issue is that they're too much alike.  They're both headstrong, passionate artists -- Jo a writer, Amy a designer -- who are (despite said boy) more interested in their own dreams than furthering men's.

But I don't mean to woman-splain Little Women to you.  You already know all of this. 

The main conflict in Meg & Jo is a big blow-up between Jo and her chef, which occurs when she posts his mother's pierogi recipe.  She hasn't told him about her blog because she doesn't want him to see her as an "idiot hipster food blogger."  But her secret is outed when her readers spot the tattoos on his arm in a picture, forcing her to confront her feelings.

"He thought I was using him.  Which . . . Okay, I had.  He'd served up his big heart on a plate, and I'd taken his passion to feed my own.  But I put myself out there, too, in my words, on my blog.  When I wrote about him, I revealed a piece of my heart.  And he didn't see.  Or maybe he didn't care.  He'd belittled my blog.  And that made me feel small.  I couldn't forgive that."  (267)

Kantra gives us the Jo that Alcott created: the tough girl with the gushy heart.  And although I don't think of myself as tough and am one of the girliest girls that I know, this is why Jo is my favorite.  To her, stories are everything.  She's guarded and prickly in person, but vulnerable where it counts -- on the page.  The man who understands and respects that is the one who gets to be in her life. 

Meg & Jo blends romance and feminism and wraps it up in that age-old theme of following your heart.  It both stands on its own and parallels its predecessor, making for textured reading.  I look forward to Kantra's sequel, Beth & Amy.

And now for a craft project report.  This Unicorn Universe Necklace has little to do with Meg & Jo or Little Women.  But its black unicorn head is a cross between edgy and enchanting, serving as a subtle reminder that being girly doesn't mean not being strong.  Also, unicorns, mythical though they may be, are supposed to be pretty powerful.

Just like the one in that Squatty Potty ad.  I bet they wish they had that in Little Women.   

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Movie Moment: Plunging into Hot Tub Time Machine

For some reason, I'd been wanting to rent Hot Tub Time Machine. (But then, you probably already knew that if you've been reading.) I choose to blame my impulse on my love of 1980s music (Poison, ironically, excepted despite their portrayal in this movie), 1980s fashion, and stupid comedies of all decades. So, a few nights ago I got it On Demand, my decision half-heartedly sanctioned by the bf, who didn't want to see it but didn't feel compelled to see anything else either. True to form, Hot Tub Time Machine offered up a parade of neon ski wear, legwarmers, and lurid animal prints set to music by INXS, David Bowie, New Order, Talking Heads, and others, all of which I enjoyed. Even so, I was slightly disappointed by this tale of three middle-aged guys (and one twentysomething kid) who revisit the 1980s via a portal channeled by a -- yes -- hot tub. To be honest, I think I was hooked more by the whole wacky hot tub concept than by the big hair and Men Without Hats. There's just something about four drunk guys in a Jacuzzi playing a vital role in the space-time continuum theory . . .

Don't get me wrong. It was funny. Just not as funny as I'd hoped. (I don't blame the movie for this, as the fault lies with my own destructively high expectations.) To me, all the high points featured Nick (The Office's Craig Robinson), a rock star-turned dog groomer who gets pushed around by his wife. I don't think I'm alone in saying that he claims the movie's most memorable line when he utters, in a deeply serious and somewhat befuddled voice just after the time travel kicks in, "It must've been some kind of . . . hot tub time machine," then looks straight at the camera, deadpan. Nick also brings the added bonus of his black tee screen printed with neon pink, yellow, and green combs and -- wait for it -- that staple of all 1980s stylists, hair picks.

I think that about sums up my thoughts.

In other news, I put the finishing touches on my Large Terrific Turtle Tote tonight. I'm doing this new thing where I haul my painting board (built by none other than the bf, designed for an optimum creative and ergonomic working experience) out into the hallway where we have the best light so I can expose and then touch up all the imperfections. Because there are always imperfections, even after the second coat and the outlining have been completed. I hope to have the tote ironed, posted on Etsy, and blogged about here by tomorrow night. Then it will be on to my next project, the Large Beauty Queen Tote, in which lipsticks and hair dryers will do battle with combs and compacts. I'm particularly looking forward to that one.