Hurrication

I'm still a little at odds. Not shaken or shocked. More of kind of detached resignation.



This building is a post office. The sign outside the door alerts patrons to honk their horns in order to notify the clerk that they need assistance. I am so not in NOLA anymore.

Waiting to hear if your city/school/home/belongings are still in full operating order is kind of like being in the ER.
It's all you can do to wait.

The Orange was not too upset at the prospect of the 9 hour drive.

He did spend some time with his head in a cup holder though.



I've holed up at Leah's (fellow classmate & set designer) house in Temple, Texas with several other hurricane flee-ers.
Last night we had a fantastic dinner of Chicken a la Grande and Gumbo. A bit of New Orleans comfort in a spoon.

The four present musicians played some jazz and I pitched a tent in the back yard at 1 am and climbed in.

Away from the Wind.

So, After moving at breakneck pace for the entire summer. Physically moving apartments in 2 hours in torturous heat on monday, and two whirlwind days of classes, I am being asked to leave town. Made to leave town.

I just got settled.


Everything was unpacked, I was riding the mini bike to school everyday. All two of them.
I started walking down to the Community Coffee house on Magazine in the evenings to read and map.
And I have to pack up what ever is dearest to me and make for somewhere called Temple, Texas.


And that is another thing...how on earth do you fit all the important things into one suitcase? Carpooling = 1 suitcase)
I sat here for hours this afternoon trying to think of what to take.
Some clothes. Identity Papers. Mapping supplies, Mac.


I am too exhausted to think.
At 8am, I will be headed to Texas. I already miss my place. Cross your fingers that it's still here on Thursday.

Films: Dans Paris, Christophe Honoré (2006)

J'ai besoin d'une histoire

Harmony St, New Orleans. 4:30pm



I need something of an adventure. I need a story, the sort I read as a child. All giants that snatched children from their beds, or witches that held conventions in posh seaside resorts. I'd settle for that particular witch who used to live in a house perched on chicken legs and rode a round in a spoon driven tea cup. I need a prince in blue pajamas tending volcanoes and a solitary rose.
Dour little girls secret;y resurrecting gardens or boys setting off hundreds of miles down river. I need imaginary, a transport.
I need to use my imagination because so much of what I read, or am offered to read, is entirely too possible. Deplorable people doing deplorable things and in turn being hunted down by more baddies, groups of baddies, corporations of baddies. No, thanks. I get enough of that in the newspaper or on television.
Often times I have to make due with poetry, which sometimes affords me the luxury of suspending my disbelief (If it's really good, my beleif). And I don't mean classical poetry, but rather poetic language. A little romanticism. The last book I read was about the ghost of a man, bound to his house, who passes his days observing the generations of people who move into his house (David Long's The Inhabited World). A little hokey, but it did the trick. Still A dive back into kid-lit may be in order. Perhaps I will actually manage to find a new Philip Pullman out there. Recommendations would be fantastic.

Films: Broken English, Zoe Cassavetes (2007)

Recommended by BWP. Thanks BWP for renewing my romantic belief that love just kinda finds you.
I was this close to being ok with the hard cold truth that it doesn't work that way without serious editing and multiple camera angles.

Featured Artist: The Presets

Try to ignore that they look like they ought to be singing Chim-Chim-Cherie in the video and focus on the brilliant cinematography of the fight sequences. They remind me of what I was trying to capture in drawings a few years back.

For Me, For Fall

Nude, beige, white, grey, chocolates, khaki, camel, charcoal, bleu marine & navy (and some choice metals), as of now anyway.

Lanvin,
These I actually might buy.

These maybe not, but damn hot none the less.

As always layering. However this time trying to do it in a more elegant way. Lighter weights, leaner shapes. Volume play.
Lots of fabric shopping at Promenade on St. Charles for wools that feel like jersey and some down time with the Singer are to come.
Burburry Porsum,




Still looking for the perfect hoodie to combat the year round A/C in the Tulane design lab.
Unstructured Grey's
D-Line,


Tailored Grey's....perhaps not in flannel though as this is the hottest place on earth.


I have pretty much the same build as the guy below, and I really like the idea of a baggy trouser. Maybe once a week.
I have a lot of maybes in this wish list.
Thin layers.
Sistere



Ombe dipped sneakers. Don't you wish you could do this at home! Thankfully I have a craft shop in which to do just that.
Raf Simons


Silver Jeans. Risky, but worth the risk I think. I think. Still, you must admit to the brilliance of their existence.
Again, Raff Simons


Woven silver. These are vying against the Lanvin hightops for a spot on my two mad-pricey shoe buys for the year.
I think the other is going to be a pair of red leather Prada loafers with a green croc penny strap I saw at Saks this weekend.
Bottega Veneta,