quinta-feira, 1 de dezembro de 2016

Facebook - Instagram - and anything in between, especially in Harlem!



It's not the best idea to be all over the place, that's why I will concentrate most of my efforts for the time being on Facebook page - Pearls Bore Me Accessories & Instagram account - pearlsboreme

Other real efforts will be on the streets of Harlem to begin with - neighbors help neighbors show off with unique accessories made in Brazil with Harlem in mind this holiday season....

See what we have to offer on FB & Instagram!

PearlsBoreMe is back, now as a different take on the accessories business

And we are back, somewhat - a bigger presence on Facebook & Instagram, but this is our domain name as well, so just making sure no one is confused....
I have moved from the art recycling to a different proposition:
Pearls Bore Me: your new standard for non-standard accessories.
Still trying to figure out the best way to use all of the above channels while focusing much more on action IRL....
Stay tuned!

sábado, 21 de julho de 2012

A hand (and a closet) of my own are not enough: this is not about feminism, although it sounds like it is....

True love wins at the end: today was supposed to be my 2 music festivals day, but the vintage sale before that (and the extreme heat) made me change my mind.
Besides, music festivals are for free & buying vintage is not & i'm a shopaholic, right?
Please bear in mind that when you see those consumer confidence index data & it's doing better, it means that Irene went on a mission to single-handedly improve the state of the American economy....

Moving to back zipper & the female condition:
Back when I was growing up, I remember my mother saying that the only time we need men around is when there's a bottle of champaign waiting to be open. Funnily enough, my mother is as much of a feminist as I'm a space engineer (and neither did we drink champaign that often - however, there's no one like my mom to open any kind of bottle...)
I remembered this today when I locked myself in the bathroom of an Antique Mall with 14 pieces of clothes to try. 2 pieces were leather coats; of the remaining 12 pieces (dresses & suits) EVERY SINGLE ONE had a back zipper.
Before i got so much into vintage, there was my jewelry obsession (that never went away, obviously - i never get rid of things - i happily pile them on!) & i remember thinking pretty much the same thing - that you need an extra hand - when i was trying on bracelets. Often it was impossible to put it on without someone else helping you...I started thinking that as a single girl it was mission impossible. And then later on I even saw a special tool that helps you solve this problem (anything you want in America!!!) - surprisingly, i never got this tool....
So, back to dresses. I did manage to kinda zip most of them, but having a 'maid or a man' (mom's quote) - or a mother, for that matter - would facilitate matters a lot. I also started thinking that doing yoga might help me to be more efficient zipping myself.
I was only joking about back zipper as a tool of male domination....only to discover that this kind of discourse existed for real...
My mind is hardly ever angry or political, but always curious...So I would really like to read some volumes on the history of fashion & understand why these zippers couldn't be side zippers?!?

P.S. And these poor guys? They are careless & free. No back zippers, no pain, no interest on my side.
I like challenges & will stick with 2 piece suits even in bikini weather!

sábado, 21 de janeiro de 2012

More artful sins

Just wanted to share a couple more images i found in my therapeutic session....
















Blind to art, open to meditation? What's wrong with this picture (or with me?!?)



Meditate or masturbate? That is the question...

In a way, this post is a bit related to our discussion with Katya on the Guardian post about if art should be for its own sake alone - http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/jan/20/art-museums-churches

When i left this morning to go & meditate with Monet, i knew i owed her an answer & somehow parts of what i saw are related to our conversation, so here we go (i'm sure i'll get lost along the way, but still...). I'm not going to connect all of the dots between De Botton, Katya & myself, but it's all related.I think at times museums are trying too hard to please, to be 'easy', 'fun' (a typical American category!!!) - it turns out that the Art Institute of Chicago has a whole 'experience team' on board that comes up with Meditate with Monet & alike. I also believe that the arts, especially the visual arts, are perfect as they are (even when they're not perfect & not visually pleasing, there's something appealing for everyone out there) & they actually could appear very 'easy' for the immediate consumption of people who don't have a classical, serious arts training. I think art education departments in their quest to make things 'fun' should also give more credit to human intelligence (please note that it's ME saying this & you know what i think about the average person...but i firmly believe that to FEEL art, to feel something that moves you, you just have to feel, not to KNOW, not to know precisely....and you have to be there, with your eyes open & just listen to yourself & your mind & your heart will open & questions will start pouring in....and i should stop because i'm getting carried away (of course!)


Back to Katya's critique: i agree that it's naive to argue that 'art should help us to get through life' & make us better human beings, although, deep down, i believe in it. But i believe in it happening spontaneously, rather than in a forced, fake way (like today).

Actually, today was even worse.

Ok, so the only reason i decided to join the mat-toting enthusiastic American ladies at 9am at the museum was because i thought it was oooooh sooooo Aaaaamerican & i knew my mom would like it.

What i didn't know was that I was going to dislike it much more than i could ever imagine & come up with some weird comparisons (that i like - & please let me know yours).

The crime scene: Gallery 243, mostly Monet's haystacks & water lilies (the best thing for me was his Norwegian snowscape, i kept thinking what was it like for him to spend some months over there....)


We are given a 25 min. talk on the paintings. Nothing interesting. I keep turning over my shoulder trying to catch a glimpse of Toulouse-Lautrec's next door, which i love (especially his very commercial ad for the sardines in a can!!!)

Then we all sit down on our mats & .....then the most absurd & evident thing happens - we have to close our eyes!!!!

How come i didn't realize it beforehand?

Surrounded by all this beauty (although these particular paintings have never been my favorites), why close your eyes to meditate???? Can't you go deep inside yourself while keeping your eyes wide open, wouldn't it actually be better?

And the comparison hits me right away: closing your eyes in front of all the beautiful & real things that could move you truly & resorting to 'blind' meditation instead is like....(here we go) - having a woman that you love waiting for you to come over & deciding to stay home alone & masturbate instead (still don't know why i thought of this, but i still stand by this comparison).

So i think that the problem here is that 1. museums don't trust us feeling things 'unaided' & 2. they desperately want to be seen as cool & hip, which to me is a big sin (while masturbation isn't).


Thinking about it more, I wanted to pull some images together....it's my own auto-erotic, solitary pleasure.






















segunda-feira, 2 de janeiro de 2012

Best of...is moving forward....towards the unknown



Enough of 'best of 2011' (i didn't talk about one very sad thing on purpose, because, well, i'm not that kind of person, really).

The right attitude is to think & believe that the best is yet to come.

India calling?


P.S. Disclaimer with regard to the photo - i was just too lazy right now to look for something better! No offense meant!




Man of the year (2011) & I have an idea for a candidate for 2012, too



GHM (not giving real names here, plus the French love abbreviations!)