Shoot Your Sandwich

From the Saveur website: Everyone has a favorite sandwich, whether it’s a homemade Dagwood pulled together from leftovers, or a cult hoagie that waits at the end of an hour-long line. SAVEUR wants to know what you think is the best thing in sliced bread — find your best photo of your favorite sandwich, and upload it to our photo contest. One winner and six runners-up will be picked by the SAVEUR editors to be featured in the pages of our all-sandwiches April issue. (photographs from the contest. I kind of overdid it, but I'm hungry.)

The rules.

The prize - glory, bragging rights, & your sandwich.

Twiggy

Life was easier when my mother was in charge of my hair (don't tell her, I won't admit it). She was an unabashed admirer of this look. Some mouths dropped as I walked into school after a salon visit. That Halloween, I sported Twiggy fake eyelashes, tights, & a Twiggy long shirt (or short dress); I think it was from England. I wish my mother would look at the computer; she'd love this Twiggy site. It was a lot of fun & it did suit me, that style. I returned to it in the 80s when all that hair was being permed...ugh. Not for me. There was a French Elle (there was no other Elle at the time) with a great short cut on the cover--that was it. People nearly passed out when they saw me on a Monday.

I became increasingly self-conscious as the day wore on. People kept walking into my academic department & gasped. Really gasping. I was growing annoyed & touchy with these doltish Americans (yes, I am one). Even "free spirits" said, "Oh but your beautiful hair...." Finally, a professor known for his contentiousness & barbed remarks walked in. I thought, I will scream [expletive deleted] if he says one damn thing. He considered me for just a moment & tilted his head, & said, "Wow. Jean Seberg. Breathless. Wow. Good for you." Turned on his heel & left. No one said another word.

[images via Just Covers/tumblr & the black & white via here.]

Sunday Shopping

Hyperventilating from spending a lot of (necessary) money today. So I'm "pretend" clothes shopping. September magazines are piling up, including Vogue. I'm reading/looking at fluff instead of writing. I need a day off. The poetry & literary landslide has to wait for tonight. Overwhelmed.

Though it's a January (1962) date, I couldn't resist this image from Just Covers, another Jessica aka myvintagevogue project (the tumblr blog is also in the right sidebar--you can see the high-resolution image there). I have three (3!) broken SLRs here so no decent photograph of Julie the Cat. Still putting one in...

Have a good Sunday evening/Monday (depending on where you are)!

Wishful Thinking

A recent post on The Clever Pup about redecorating (it said, 'dream on' - I know, I know) inspired a look at books o' clippings. Why oh why didn't I keep the whole magazine -- or at least the photographer & writer credits? Because I didn't know I'd be doing this, that's why. House & Garden (also called HG in one incarnation) published a terrific article in the early 1990s on Isabella Rossellini's New York apartment. Her bedroom & bath are very elegant; but as I wrestle framed photographs, hats, & my desk into submission (sort of), these shots are most helpful & entertaining. The dogs at the desk are adorable & hard to resist. (The dachsund is wearing a scarf with considerable élan.)

HG went kaput for good in 2007 and is missed. A Google search for the HG archives leads directly to Architectural Digest. This is a publication that elicits a loathing in me totally out of proportion to its actual existence/importance in the world-at-large. The source of this disgust is a mystery...now I'll find out that a friend just went to work for them. Or something.