Being dumped by someone who said that they would love you forever sucks. The occurrence makes you rethink the slippery word “forever,” and also the people who aren’t old fashioned romantics, who relish the idea of growing decrepit and old together. Hey, monogamy isn’t for everyone, but don’t waste my time if you’re not captivated… Continue reading Dating My Wardrobe: “Lilac Time,” Montgomery Place in the Spring
If you’re like me, and you have a penchant for attracting liars, cheats, and emotionally hollowed-out husks of men, do yourself a favor and date yourself. Style that hair, strap on your best shoes, and go out into the world, confident that your favorite heels would never let you down. Literally. Personally, after being thrown… Continue reading My Own Muse: Hot Date With Myself, No. 5, “Images of Internment,” Exhibition at the FDR Presidential Library (2017)
If you’re wondering why I’m having all of these hot dates with myself, I should start at the beginning of my tale, when in June of 2017 I was abruptly dumped by a major dumb-dumd with a wandering eye. While being relegated to the status of chopped liver by my boyfriend initiated my experiment with dating… Continue reading My Own Muse: Hot Date With Myself, No. 4, Nick Cave’s “Until,” at MASS MoCA
After being cast-aside by my boyfriend like some crumpled candy wrapper, I endured the beginning of my summer of 2017 in a state of heightened melancholy. I mean, I went all-out weeping, moaning, gnashing my teeth– the full gamut. But, by July I was truly bored with myself as a driveling lump, mourning the loss… Continue reading My Own Muse: Hot Date With Myself, No. 3, Mohonk Mountain Preserve
After climbing out of the metaphorical blackened crevasse of an ugly break-up in June, I decided that it was high time that I surfaced for some sunshine. Don’t get me wrong, living as a troglodyte for one month had its benefits. I finished reading my collection of Regency-era romance novels, and binge-watched Korean dramas for… Continue reading My Own Muse: Hot Date with Myself, No. 2, Blithewood Garden, Red Hook, NY.
In June of 2017, I had a summer of fun heating-up on the horizon. My boyfriend would return from Florida, I was on summer break from grad school, and I had a killer new collection of crop-tops to show-off my hot rib-cage with! Yowza! However, the ripe promise of June came with a rotten surprise.… Continue reading My Own Muse: Hot Date with Myself, No. 1, Vanderbilt Mansion Italian Garden
I embark upon this new year, wearing plaid pants, a banana brooch, and a big-old leopard-print swing coat. Embedded in the threads of my loud and incongruous get-up are messages of hope, destiny and….what the hell am I doing with myself in 2018?!?! Like the clothes that I wear, this question is rhetorical. As a… Continue reading A Leopard Must Change its Spots….
As the Greek muse of comedy, Thalia is among my favorite of the fair affecters. She sparks a willingness to smile, and knows that a perfectly timed practical joke is worth a more than a picture and its thousand words. At least, that’s what my muse of comedy, Mona Lisa, could tell you! On August… Continue reading My Muses: Thalia and the Mona Lisa
Winslow Homer’s Eagle Head, Manchester, Massachusetts (High Tide), which is exhibited in the American Wing of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, represents a transitional period in American art, clothing and society. Embedded within the appearance of the three young women on the seashore, rendered with lively brush-strokes, is a cultural cocktail of change and modernization.… Continue reading The Victorian Bathing Suit of Winslow Homer’s “High Tide”
Erato. The muse of love poetry. If I were to assign a mortal woman to Erato’s position, I can’t think of any gal more suited to inspire romance than Anais Nin—writer of erotica, memoirist of passion. Born in France to Cuban parents in 1903, Anais began her life amid the peaceful haze of the Belle… Continue reading My Muses: Erato and Anais Nin