this old thing

Hi, yes, many things -- ballet, recipes, marital secret-keeping, knitting, homeschool redistribution of rights + resources, and I'm still holding out on Mental Hospital.  Totally!  Yet, I hope you came with yr Faygo Red Pop & a bag of Bugles, because this is where I am today.

1. I confess herein that when I read this story about the $300ish rent-controlled (huge!) apartment in the Village, my only & immediate reaction was What steps do I have to take to get married to that dude?  Because a rent-controlled lease conveys.  I would lock that shit down, honestly.  And if you know anything at all, you know it would be an Anna-Nicole level probate battle. 



2. Lana Del Rey:  I love her.  It is funny because the "Video Games" single started getting radio play at the end of November, and I thought it was being warbled by someone much older, more worn down, rode hard, put away wet.  Then I saw the video & was amazeypants at how young!  Which was something of a topic already afoot here in our house vis à vis Adele & her really off-base cover of this song how she has this gorgeous, rich instrument of a voice which she mostly uses to belt out a lot of chirping (she is the beltiest chirper!) about Facebook misunderstandings.  Additionally, the realization upon her death that Etta James was 22 years old when she recorded "I'd Rather Go Blind" and wow.  22!  Ok.
   
   
3. Because three different people have asked -- three being a holy number -- regarding the late, great Etta James:  I was in fact subjected to "Sunday Kind of Love," endlessly, vituperatively + yodelingly. 
   
   
4. I went with Jolie to a Fancy Town estate sale on Saturday morning.  I was kind of into it, but was mostly along for the ride.  Then I saw this bag, behind a neatly-organized Imelda-style pile of stuff inside of a closet.   
   
   
   
   
   
   I have always wanted a Louis bucket.  Always.  Mostly -- and this I think maybe only Charlie will recognize -- so I can pull that Upper West Side powerplay of What, this old thing? when necessary.  OK, but a good girl reared all Franciscan-y in the Midwest can not avenge herself in that way with a bag for which she paid full-price, even as that is the spirit of the manuever.  (If you would like to split the hair wherein a Franciscanette from the homeland should not avail herself of the wordless clawing in the play, I say to you: When in Rome.) 
   
   I took it to the sales directress & told her, "I will take this for $12."  I had the bills in my hand and I was ready to deal.  She was aghast and gave me the once-over.  Ok, so speaking of when in Rome, I was outfitted Rome-ly, mostly just by straining under the heft of my left ring finger, but I bring it, a little. 
   
   She said patiently, as a person who is surely used to dealing with skinflints, "I am afraid $150 is the best price I can give you for that." 
   
   
   The fact is, this bag is no longer in production. The one that is, its closest cousin, is almost 10x her best price. Whatever. 
   
   I gaily explained to her that I could give her $25. "It's a purse," I finished, calmly, as if she were a sister who had fallen under the spell of a powerful cult leader. 
   
   She countered, explaining to me in a kind of brittle tone that it was a Louis Vuitton.  I held up my hand while my mouth dropped open a little.  I gasped.  Not so fast, it all said.  "This purse has a tag in it that says it was made in America."
   
   
   
   
   
   It does!
   
   If you know, than you know that little paper tag is the most authentic authentication a Louis Vuitton handbag can have.  She did not. So she apologized, briefly, and told me in a hurried way $12 was fine.  Can I just say that Mari has no idea what this all means, except that obvsly for once I was charged the true value of a handbag.  Lord.
   
   
5. Let's talk about teevee: 
   • Mad Men.  Due to some knitting willingness since the summer, we have finally watched the entire first season and a couple of epis of the 2nd.  Why is it so slow, this show?  This show is like the guy at work who is always like, yk, "Oh, man!  How was yr weekend?  Oh, I had a great weekend!  Pret-ty great weekend.  Oh, you had a great weekend?  Whoa, maybe you don't know from great weekend, brother.  Wow, etc," zzZzZzzzzz all to get you to say, What did you do this weekend, which you do not because you do not care.  It is just like that!
   • Weeds.  I started watching Weeds however many years ago that I first found it on DVD at the library, maybe 4?  I am just now on Season 3, is it?  Where U-Turn keels over & his pal smothers him.  I described that episode (who knows why?) to Mari & it is now a joke between us to stand in our new lexicon for crocodile tears.  U-Turrrrrn!  one of us says, to the other, melodramatically.  Ha, ha-ha.

For some reason, writing about crocodile tears reminded me of my senior-year English teacher who had the hots for me -- we were an entire classroom of girls all agog at his condition, like, "Dude!  Seriously!  Jailbait!  We're all wearing douchey uniforms!"  I mean, he never touched me or said anything pervy ... he would just stop talking in the middle of a sentence sometimes and everyone would look up & he would be staring at me.  My yearbook is covered with references to my mind-control powers.  He was the one who had me do the presentation of "The Miller's Tale."  God, I totally wonder what happened to that guy.     

 

Comments

[the not-so-secret santos.]

moment of patricidal rage: my father often has a need to show largesse to people who do not deserve it and has been known to give away my mother's possessions to randoms. mainly, a huge portion of her luxury bag collection from the late seventies and most of the eighties, thinking that "oh, she'll just buy another" and of course not thinking of the vintage, nor collectibility, nor of course, the covetous daughter. he does this when she is on holiday and she comes back to a ransacked collection. i think she has mostly put this to a stop by telling him, "oh , i hid a (insert huge amount of money) in that bag" but i'm still pissed off that her entire vuitton and most of her dior collection from the seventies is gone. and i've no desire to touch anything from the nineties and beyond.

sorry. moment over. i don't use leather bags anyway, but i feel for my mom, i really do. she is v. much a jackie o kind of woman and that sort of stuff fits her style better than the contemporary stuff.

[the not-so-secret santos.]

oh, and brava on the performance that netted you such a treasure!

[Becky]

Santos, I am raging out on your behalf and I don't even know your dad. Give away your own shit, man!

And oh, my lord, that LV story. I just can't even! I can't believe you got her to give you that bag for $12!!! You are the one with the mind control powers. I'm a little surprised she didn't more know what was what. But that's where a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. Brava! And it's times like those when you're grateful you have a blog, 'cause you can't just tell everybody in the grocery line.

[lala]

Santos, that sucks so much. One of my treasured friends, a non-handbaggy sort, lost her mom in 2010. When I saw her last year, on a visit, and she was talking about how her sister had been so backbitey & acquisitive and oh, the handbags, etc -- "Not that I care about the bags," she said, "But she was sneaking around, pilfering the goods, and OH!" I said to her, with my Franciscan mouth & all, "Let me ask you this: Did she have a LV bucket?" HONEST TO PETE, I DID! And she didn't, but there was a mini papillon & I wear the same size glove she did. There was a reason I told you that story ... OH! Because there is a time to give away people's stuff! Or, to wait for the covetous person of the executor's choosing! And daughters have the right of first refusal!

Yk, Becky, it was like -- I'm sure you've had this happen -- where you stumble across an eBay auction for something where the auctioneer has no idea what they have. Oh, this set of pottery dishes from Russel, uh, can't make it out, but White, I think it says. Service for 10, hostess pieces, too. Whatta weird color. Buy it now, $62.00. I feel bad shipping is so high, but I have excellent packing feedback. I love those auctions. So much.

[santos.]

becky, yes, please rage on my behalf! so he can feel chastised all over again. because if he doesn't, he'll start again.

miss lala, a beloved aunt died in the past few years, and the reviled daughter-in-law was beyond annoyed that auntie's chanel purse and costume jewelry collection was not left to her. she screamed! she bellowed! she harangued! she never let me forget that it "rightfully" belonged to her, nevermind the others in the family, nevermind no one likes her. oh so anyway. there is a divorce in the family but the chanel (faux) pearls are still in the safe. i really need to catalog that collection. it's fabyooolusssss.

also, finally, a friend is the king of the "i'll take that off your hands if you don't want that are you sure?" ebay auction. he just re-sold a vase for $40,000. FORTY. A THOUSAND OF THEM.

[curious]

Oh, santos, I too am devastated on your mother's behalf. I am not a hoarder but there are some things that should not be de-cluttered - and definitely not from someone who is not the owner of said item.

Ms Lala - you are the queen of this. I so wish I could have been at that estate sale learning at the elbow of an expert. Sadly, we do not have enough wealthy people in this town to have any kind of estate sale

[lala]

I know, Minty, right? There is a time and place for the executor to distribute!

I like nice things, what can I say? My daughter has an eye a million times refined; it is crazy. Nature or nurture?