#54
Had dinner with a good friend tonight in Brattleboro. I love friends, especially friends who think about a lot of the same things that I think about. Dianna and I went around both our lives and touched all bases and then talked about projects. She doesn't know it, but she inspired me to try my group small book idea again. Now I understand that my call for definitions to tribe may have felt too large for some. And I know that some people couldn't post their's. Two people lost their paragraphs to the ozone. Therefore, I went back to my blog settings and I messed around with the comments settings. Try leaving a comment tonight.
Then I decided that a small book on "Your Favorite Sweater" would be fun. You can post a picture and a paragraph on why it is your favorite sweater. Then I can combine them and we will have a small book.
It can be hard to talk about clothes in an intelligent way. Fashion critic Kennedy Fraser once wrote in The New Yorker that the act of donning a garment can seem almost furtive or trivial, something beneath debate or intellectual content. The editors of Women in Clothes would agree that it's a challenge. The book collects essays, conversations, pictures and testimonials from more than 600 women talking about how clothes shape or reflect them as human beings. review NPR 9/4/14
I know you all think I'm a little batty for having this obsession on creating a collaborative small book, but I just think there is amazing potential in my reading audience. I do!
I did not get a lot of pictures today. But I did get a lot of reading done and I have a whole day in front of me to write tomorrow. YAY.
Thinking about one old sweater now - ha! This is fun!
ReplyDeleteMy favorite sweater - no, my most important sweater - is an old grey one of my Mom's. Every time I put it on, I feel her arms wrap around me in a big warm hug. We both know that Marje was not a big hugger, but still, it works. Dianna Noyes
ReplyDeleteTrace, write that story. PLEASe
ReplyDeleteMy friend Molly died last summer. It was sudden and tragic and heartbreaking. Losing her was horrific. Watching my daughters' try to make sense of it and journey through their own grief made it that much harder. Molly was always sharing her clothes with the girls and they cherished many items she had given them. Nomi had an old brown cashmere sweater that was tattered and full of Molly's essence. Molly was a fragrant woman who carried with her the scent of earth and rain, hard work, love and warmth and many, many other things. This sweater carried all that an more. My girls took turns snuggling it, carrying it with them, and crying into it. Sometimes they clung to it together. This went on for months until one day the unthinkable happened. It no longer smelled like Molly - this realization brought with it a new round of mourning. We still have the sweater. It still provides comfort, but it is no longer as "full" as it used to be. Anna Berry
ReplyDelete