After the six month Goodwill Challenge was over, I succumbed to the sirens of retail for a few days, and have been doing penance by wearing a hair shirt (by Marc Jacobs, with great buttons of course) and meditating on my Sins in my little garden shed full of flea market finds valuable only to me. I even started refinishing thrift furniture for my Cloister of Retail Regret.
What could inspire me to blog again after The Fall? (My apologies to Camus and my defense lawyer colleague, Jean-Baptiste Clamence.) It would have to be a subject that shines as a beacon of light for Thrift and Goodwill, a fashionista of the Five & Dime, a maven for the mundane, a Doyenne of the global junk drawer, a Harry Winston of Household Objects and an Artist of the First Order: Mrs. Vera.
Mrs. Vera, the original Conehead.
Some of the Great Unwashed have accused me of being Mrs. Vera's Biggest Fan, as if that's a bad thing, like Kathy Bates in Misery (hey, she won an Oscar donchaknow). The truth is I am a huge fan. Because the fact is MRS. VERA RULES THE WORLD, the Verasphere that is. She is making art out of the world's cast-offs, creating beauty out of our flotsam and jetsam, and her creativity knows no bounds. The world she creates is beautiful -- a Woolworth's counter on acid, with a dash of wormwood and a side of Gaudi on steroids. No more talking! I'm out of words. Let me show you why Mrs. Vera deserves more attention, funding grants, museum exhibits and stalkers (nay, fans!):
Mrs. Vera was on Leave it to Beaver.
Mrs. Vera brightens any room.
Mrs. Vera is a poser, not a poseur.
Mrs. Vera is a travelling picnic basket of wonders.
Mrs. Vera's personal paparazzi, an artist in his own right, Mr. Stone.
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Dot dot dash, so much panache!
Mrs. Vera dressed scores of people for the Pride Parade, a wonder of ingenuity.
And if that is not enough to make a fan out of you, check out Mrs. Vera and Mr. Stone's adorable Cindy Lou in her chapeau!
oxoxoxoxoxoxo
The Empress
