A Treasury Of… Minneapolis Fashion and Interior Design Blog

Much of American culture and integrity has dissolved in recent decades and I’m gonna go ahead and blame all of it on High Fructose Corn Syrup.

Once upon a time soda pop was packed with sugar – real, actual, soul-soothing sugar. Then greed and technology barged into our bottles and it’s been downhill ever since.

Pepsi has just released this Natural take on its classic soft drink which draws upon the punchy perfection of real sugar rather then chemically modified imitators. If you’re interested in an on-line taste-test of sorts, then check out this lovably lengthy link at keacher.com.

When me and my childhood gal-pals meet up, faux fashion mag-ish photo shoots tend to be our preferred pastime.

This time around we shot on 35mm slide film and had it cross-processed, hoping we’d get ultra-intense colors.

Obviously, the opposite happened, and the colors bleached out, almost as if sepia-tinted.

We’re wondering if tungsten vs. daylight film might have had an effect. Hmmm…

We didn’t wind up with the kinds of images we’d expected, but that’s more than half the fun of shooting on film vs. digital.

This post over at The Pursuit Aesthetic showcases the clever inclusion of men’s saddle shoes into Spring 09 outfittery, as presented by Corpus.

It’s a look that seemed lady-like for a beat or two, then suddenly shifted to seeming droll and dapper for dudes as well. All Plaid Out then swiftly laid out three saddle shoe options and I’ve been Froogling and e-baying other possibilities as well, but nothing seems quite right.

The suede semi-saddle shoes by F-Troupe presented here aren’t getting me any closer in my search, but they’re a snappy little detour.

I’ll get to where I’m going, eventually.

Nearly two months later, I’ve finally developed the first film I shot with my Christmas present to myself, a Lomo LC-A camera.

I asked the lab not to color-correct my images, since Lomo cameras are known to produce ultra-saturated, barely realistic colors. The man behind the counter said a certain amount of correcting was mandatory based on the processing machines of today (Rats!) but beyond that he said the technicians would let things alone.

I’m curious as to what would have happened had I let them correct the color as they saw fit. The images I got back were specifically un-saturated and a little pink. But they were dreamy and aged like I’d hoped for, so I’ll experiment some more before I lay down my final verdict. For now, I’m optimistic.

From my trip to Florida to visit my family:

The Colony Plaza is where the men behind Disney World stayed when the theme park was first being built. It was the only adequate hotel around there at that time, before Orlando exploded into the tourist trap it soon became. The Plaza had been slated to be torn down recently, it’s abandoned and the windows are blown open, mattresses and TVs litter the parking lot. But three years after I first fell in love with it, it’s still there, and I hope it always will be.

Given that I grew up in the cold north, anything southern, especially edibles like fried chicken and cheap waffles, I find to be fully fascinating.

Back at home, this image is more what I’m used to:

Knee-deep snow, and a dwarfy dog who’s good at tricks and bad at behaving.

When workin’ the work-wear look threatens to tug my outfits down into coal-miner costumery, the easiest remedy I’ve found is incorporating offbeat accessories be it from another era or in a surprising color.

All the macho, rugged, leathers and chambrays inherent in work-wear in earnest shades of grays and indigos can start to feel too heavy and historic when piled on top of each other, so perking things up with a witty pin or a vibrant bag inserts a sunny sass I’m finding much needed lately.

A few assorted entries on my recent radar:

Washed Travel Bag by Steven Alan.

Sea Creature Key Ring by Jack Spade.

Rope Bracelet by UO.

Vintage Eyeglasses.

Boar Skin Tag by Jack Spade at Blackbird.

Really, the littlest hit of surprise in a stuffy outfit can make such a big difference overall.

This handsome little handbook was loafing unceremoniously on my desk for about a year, so I figured I’d dust it off and share it.

A page I didn’t scan in presents the proper marching order for a (celebratory) Civilian Defense parade. Oh, the ceremony of it all.

I go ga-ga over any simple object imprinted with one simple word.

Words get strung and rushed together all day, every day – their individual power and poetry rarely felt to their fullest. Its almost spiritual to slow down and just stare at and whisper one little word and see what it makes you feel. The word ASP or CALIBER or PORCUPINE.

This black zippered wallet glistening with a golden REMEMBRANCE imprint in the upper corner is my most recent thrifted find. Every time I quietly read my wallet I feel wisdom, warmth and reverence.

There were some religious-themed stamps and scraps inside the wallet when I bought it. As a never-very-religious heathen I wondered if “Remembrance Wallets” were some traditional, holy staple I’d never heard of.

Sixty seconds of half-hearted Google and image searching didn’t bring up anything conclusive though. (Phew.) So no disrespect to anyone or any institution, but I’m going to continue to blindly believe my gilded REMEMBRANCE wallet has less to do with churches and martyred saints, and more to do with handsome war heroes or nostalgic newsmen of the 1950s.

(May heaven help me.)

It’s literally been ten years now that I’ve tried to add a tan trench coat to my closet. I’ve purchased two vintage candidates, I’ve tried countless others on at the expected chain stores over the years, but again and again, they’ve never looked natural on me. They’re perpetually too large and I come off as an 8th grade twerp cast as some daffy detective in a jr. high musical.

But at last, my decade-long quest has come to a triumphant if not surprising end. I’ve finally found a trench coat I appear like an actual grown up in, hanging from the racks of a teenybopper mall store, as irony would have it

American Eagle Outfitters currently offers this classic trench in a much appreciated XS, and without the faux-distressing or stitched eagle emblem that scars everything else the chain peddles. I could live without the blue gingham lining near the back, but other than that, I’m supremely satisfied with what this trench does for me/on me. 

If I can put label snobbery aside in order to enjoy it, I ask, kindly, if you might as well.

The old Gregory Peck Moby Dick flick ran on TV this Sunday…

There was little in it, style-wise, I don’t intend to pirate at some point soon.

Mjolk’s Fall 09 line claims to draw key inspirations from the American Civil War, but it’s the sea-faring reference in the way the line styles their caps that I’m plundering first in my quest to Dick myself up a bit.

I’m wondering though…is the trick as simple as folding up a basic knit ski-like cap a number of times? Or are the hats featured here another type of hat entirely?

A fitted knit cap seems like it might squeeze up and pop off one’s head if cuffed up and perched as high as in the photos presented here.

Any guesses, guys?

It sure is putzy to pay for a purchase by involving pennies and dimes, but the world’s become so quick ‘n slick, a bit of putzing is good for the mind and even better for the soul. Oki-ni’s shop graciously reminds us all of the poppy yet practical merits of the plastic coin purse (and thereby the forgotten charm of coins themselves.)

These eye-popping pouches remind me of my beyond-great grandfather, and of 1982, and of gift shops at Mt. Rushmore. So it’s not a question of whether or not I’m gonna need one this spring, it’s a question of in how many different colors?

Even the most camera-shy curmudgeon bursts into a happy little ham behind the magical curtains of an old-fashioned photo booth. A charity event this weekend at which I made an appearance offered free sessions inside just such a booth. Better yet, hardly anyone else in attendance had time to care, which meant I was free to strike poses endlessly!

I’d liken the dream-like level of my joy to rummaging through a bottomless Christmas stocking. To temper my giddy glee, the sobering challenge I soon assigned myself was to produce a strip in which I could tolerate how I looked in all quadrants of the photos.

I never quite achieved that, but here are the final four contenders. (I’m almost ashamed to say there’s fifteen more strips where these came from…)