Dear Ethers,

I can’t believe that I missed a week of my beloved “Fashion Fridays!”  I must admit, when the end of the week comes, I do get quite nervous about what ensemble I will pick from the disaster zone that is my room. But when it all comes together on the page, it’s always a bit off fun to share a frock with friends.  

This week is very simple.  I thought I’d ease back into things with something very orignal that stands on its own without any baubles or accessories that you can just appreciate for being unique.  I found this dress at a very small boutique on Beverly Blvd. in Los Angeles (a main drag in L.A. with lots of hip restaurants and shops etc…) and sadly can’t recall its name!  I know if I pass it again, I will pop back in for some more juicy goods (though the place is super overpriced).  The shop is a vintage store but everything they sell is in pristine condition.  But, they really hike their prices up in a nutty way.  I looked at a cute top that should have MAX been $50 and it was $150!!!  It has things that would make you drool, but the prices, alas, are too cruel………except for this one little rack in the corner. Now, Ethers you should know me by now.  Am I not the queen bee of bargaining and finding a sale even when not advertised!?!  Indeed!  So, the deal with this rack is that anything that’s been sitting in the store for over 6 months that hasn’t sold, they mark down like mad.  I liked a lot of things, but either the sizes were off, or they were still very expensive because they started off with high ticket tags–and really, you can only mark something down so much.  But then……I found MY dress!  It was the type of thing that I knew no one would like.  The colors were kinda weird and the shape was odd.  It was heavily pleated.  But it looked so much like an Issey Miyake Pleats Please piece and I really was curious how it would look on.  And it had originally been $200 and was now $20.  Oh, and I loved that the label said made in London  As soon as I slipped it on, I fell in love.  I think the women in the store were shocked and thought I was bonkers, but were happy to be rid of it and I walked away a happy camper.  I think it looks designer, cutting-edge and it must have looked futuristic when it was designed all those years ago.  You can dress it up or wear it casually.  It’s definitely a lighter-weather dress, but living in L.A.–I think I can get away with it for a few extra months out of the year.  

As for the shoes.  Bought at my favorite palace o’prices, Loehmann’s.  I love how they are a unique putty color with a semi-gladiator wedge that remind me so much of what women wore in old Italian films.  I can just see a lovely bella walking with a basket, a full skirt and these shoes on a cobbled street where a outdoor market is being held and she’s perusing the goods.  They are comfy and they match the dress well.  They were a bargain….$30!  So, this whole ensemble cost $50!!  Not too shabby.  This is why I love hunting for deals and one-off’s.  You look original and you save a bundle.  So, let’s welcome back “Fashion Fridays!” and I will try not to miss another week…….well, until another catastrophe hits…….oy vay!

I think the color combo is so unique, the pleating is original and the cut (especially at the chest) is like nothing I've seen before. I think it's very fun, and something I could see a groovy 70's chica wearing to stand out from the boring crowd and making a little fashion statement to the world--especially in Blighty! I look tres curvy in this ensemble, no? Well, this might be my new sex-bomb outfit! As mentioned, I can't remember the name of the shop. But it was made in England, bought in L.A. and I spent a bargain price of $20 for it!

These have been great summer shoes. They are a versatile shade so they look lovely with browns and whites and they happen to match this dress perfectly! I like the semi-gladiator aspect to them, but that they don't look like the typical, boring sandals everyone else can get. The wedge gives a nice height and they are super comfy. I also love the ties. These just remind me of Rome or somewhere hot and European. As mentioned, these were purchased from the palace of prices, Loehmann's for $30 in Los Angeles

Awww, isn't it lovely? Nutty to charge $200 smackaroos for it, but I'm sure glad that I scored it and that it was dangling on the "nobody wants me rack." Guys, that is often the BEST place to find the awesome deals. It's in perfect condition, it stretches to your body so if you eat a heavy lunch...well, you get my drift. I think it is a classic and the pleating is brilliant. I'm ashamed I can't remember the name of the shop it is from, but if I do, I will update the post.

This may look like a cartoon, but this is no joke. I mean business. I'm sick of people out in the world thinking they can abuse bloggers and THINK they can get away with it. Read on....and see that your "mouse" is gonna be trapped starting NOW.

Dear Ethers, 

My good friend Wildernesschic has a brilliant blog that I enjoy reading tremendously.  I like it because it’s written from the heart.  You never feel like she has a thesaurus sitting on her lap while she’s writing, her stories never cease to fascinate, and she writes with humor and wit that are honest and organic.  She’s also extremely supportive of other bloggers, never failing to visit sites leaving well thought out comments and taking an interest in the world of the blogosphere.   She’s a reliable source, in my opinion, on blogging.  

A few days ago she posted an entry called “What Is A Blog?”  It fascinated me.  Again, she wrote straight from the soul and really begged the question about what we bloggers are doing every time we hit that very scary publish button.  She mentions that her blog is her “…own Hyde Park Corner.  Where I can express my freedom of speech.”  I agree completely.  She, unlike myself, is NOT an anonymous blogger.  Every single time she puts out a post she is risking her neck.  Her friends and family read everything she writes—her name is completely exposed to the public. 

Recently, she received a barrage of E-mails that were abusive and hurtful about her writing.  Obviously I don’t know the intimate details, but I do know that she has taken down a certain post that she feels might have hurt someone’s feelings and feels more guarded with her special part of her “Hyde Park Corner.”  I think this is completely unacceptable.  I too have received hurtful E-mails and comments from people about my blog.  I’m not going to indulge these abusers by telling you the details, but they attack below the belt and use ones own words to be vicious and malicious.  I have since blocked them from access to my website, but I wonder, why do people feel the need to be so angry with a blogger when all we are doing is expressing our experience and our memories?  I can understand disagreeing with a point of view, but I cannot understand abuse.  If you have an issue, it is perfectly acceptable to leave a comment asking questions about the post and, indeed disagreeing with the bloggers point of view.  But to hurl abuse and to ensue fear into someone’s life is abhorrent. 

I don’t see the blogosphere’s manners as any different than the normal manners of society.  Just as you cannot harass someone or verbally abuse them or stalk them on the streets, you cannot do so on their blog.  There are ways of finding out who you are, for those of you who DO take advantage of the vulnerability of bloggers.  You are easy to track and it is illegal to leave a torrent of insults.  You can be arrested.  You are no different than a stalker.  You have to remember there is a huge difference between freedom of speech and threatening people.  Tread carefully.  Is it really worth it?  At the end of the day we are just people who take the time to write about our lives, our interests and our views.  If you disagree or have any gripes—-either leave a calm mannered comment that will allow a fair debate or walk away if you don’t think you can control yourself.  Think of it as hitting someone.  You wouldn’t just beat someone up if they said the wrong thing would you?  You’d take a deep breath and either walk or talk. Well, at least one would hope. 

I will be seeking anyone out who hurls abuse at me, WILL trace you through your internet provider and WILL call the authorities.  I have spoken to the police and they have said that this IS a crime and people HAVE been arrested.  I will not be censored or threatened.  I will write what I want without fear.  And so should every blogger.  I warn you again, tread lightly, because you will be caught and you’ll be eating YOUR words hopefully without ever hurting anyone else again.   

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

"Better keep yourself clean and bright; you are the window through which you must see the world." George Bernard Shaw

Dear Ethers, 

Often times when I’m lying in bed thinking, I’ll leave the window open and cover myself up in the duvet.  I like the cool breeze on my face while my body is swathed in the rich down.  Today in Los Angeles we had very heavy winds.  It was the first sign of fall. Crackling leaves dragged their dead forms down the street making scratching noises as they flew pass.  The trees shook and swayed and crows squawked their horrid cry while picking the newly laid seeds in the fertilizer often laid just before Halloween.  I stared out my window while all this was happening, warm under my blanket, only my face exposed to the day outside, and I breathed everything in, squinting whenever a ray of sun peeked through a branch.   

This is the same thing I’ve been doing since I was a little girl.  It’s strange to me that I’ve been doing this in the same bed, through the same window and past the same tree; just a different date and an older body.  I never thought I’d be on the brink of 30 staring out this window pondering, waiting for another winter to come.  You know what’s funny? I never thought I’d ever BE 30.  I remember being in a bowling alley with my parents and there were a bunch of adults and college kids.  They seemed SO old.  I thought I’d never live to see that age.  And you know what, they were younger than I am today. 

But it’s crazy.  As the years go by, they go by so much faster.  My parents are in their late 60’s, the Big Apple Beauty is almost 70 (my god—she always seemed ageless) and the car my parents bought me for getting into college (that I still so vividly remember driving for the first time) is almost 11 years old.  How does time escape us?  My grandmother, who is 93, said that you look in the mirror at 25 and the next minute you’re her age (if you’re lucky)–that’s how quickly things go.  And the scary part is that things from your youth only seem like yesterday.  

Being human is such an odd condition.  It’s something I’ve never really gotten my hands around.  Someone took a picture of me about 8 years ago looking out my said window—they caught me with the sun in my eyes.  My pupils were lit by the sun—they looked like illuminated oak floors with a spray of black lines breaking through the wood.  I remember very clearly what I was thinking in that picture.  That I couldn’t believe another sunset was happening. Do you know that your eyes stay the same size as they were when from the day that you were born?  I’ve always had really big eyes.

I cannot tell the future.  I cannot fix the past.  I can wish, but I often find that futile. It’s nighttime now.  The wind is blowing heavily and I’ve shut the window because of the chill.  I’ll wake again tomorrow and spend a few minutes of the morning staring at the sky.  I’ll collect my thoughts.  It’ll be a new day.  New leaves will fall from trees and be blown down the street scratching away into oblivion and I wonder what my day will be like.  What will hit me next? What memory will fall into my mind?  And I’ll wrap myself tight in my duvet and ponder, feeling the breeze on my face seeing life’s clock ticking through each leaf that does a pirouette to the floor.

Dedicatedly yours, 

—One of 365

Sometimes curiosity DOES kill the cat! Locked means locked....even if it was slightly ajar for just a second...20 years later and it still makes me wonder....

Dear Ethers, 

Wipe. Wipe. Spray. Wipe. Wipe.  Okay?  How does this page look today?  Spotless?  Fresh?  Good!  I really want to have a clean slate and get out from under the duvet.  I woke up this morning, opened my eyes, saw the sunshine (even though it was late October) and said, “Today I’m writing about a fond memory.”  That’s a great way to re-start a week, I reckon.  So Ethers, let me take you away from a very dusty One of 365 to a smaller set of numbers.  A girl yet to be tainted by the mysteries of love, or worries about the future.  Just a nutty memory that still makes me curious almost 20 years later. 

I had a childhood friend who had 2 older sisters.  They were in college when we were just in elementary school so I never met them. I had heard stories about these fabled girls.  They were supposed to be very beautiful and talented.  One was an Olympic medalist in horse riding and the other was a very accomplished medical student.  I’d heard that when one of them was little she’d fallen ill, but I never knew from what and frankly, I never asked.  

I used to hang out with his childhood friend daily.  Her house was really grand.  She lived in Bel Air and had an amazing backyard with a fantasy-like pool and screening room with every movie you could think of (even a popcorn making machine).  I had died and gone to heaven!  When I would sleep over, I always stayed in the guest room.  I really wanted to stay in one of her older sister’s rooms but was always told sternly by my friend that they were off limits.  I always found it really strange that their doors were the only locked ones in the house.  

One weekend that I was sleeping over, the sisters were coming home to stay for a short trip.  I was extremely excited.  It was the age when older girls were heroes—especially beautiful ones you heard stories about and had doors that were locked.  I recall my friend being anything but pleased. 

They tumbled in and were as glorious as I had imagined.  They both had long golden hair, sparkling blue eyes and pale skin.  Slim and well built, they were elegant and well dressed.  The only thing I noticed was one of them had a slight limp, but I figured that was from an injury from horseback riding. I glommed on to them immediately.  I could tell they were flattered but my friend didn’t seem very thrilled.  Especially about me getting terribly close to the Olympic champion sister.  

We had a great weekend and we’re just preparing to eat breakfast.  I’d just showered and noticed the door was slightly open to the normally locked room of the sister who rode.  I thought we were friendly enough so I could take a peek in and see what she was up to.  I was also dying to see her sanctuary.  I pushed open the door and there it stood.  Right in the middle of the room.  A prosthetic leg!  It was in a black sock with one Doc Marten laced to its ankle.  Being young and stupid, I burst out and told me friend what I had discovered.  “You’ll never guess what was in your sister’s room.” I said in a fit of laughter.  “A joke leg!”  My friend’s face fell and she turned crimson.  I began to color too.  “What’s wrong?” I asked.  “This is why I didn’t want to hang out with them.  And that’s why their doors are locked.  My sister had cancer in her leg and it was amputated.  She has several false legs that she owns and leaves here when she visits.  Some are in her room and some are in my other sister’s room.  She’s really sensitive about it.”  I was horrified that I had laughed.  But I still didn’t get it.  “But she is an Olympian….”  “In the Special Olympics…” my friend said.  I didn’t know what to do or say.  I knew that my friend was upset because she felt I knew some dirty secret (even though it wasn’t at all).  

After the leg incident, my friend stopped inviting me over, slowly stopped hanging out with me and didn’t take my calls.  I was confused, but I guess I understood that I had seen something she didn’t want me to, and now she had to get rid of me because I knew this secret.  When I turned 12 I went off to a different school than her and we never spoke again. 

Just recently I saw her name in the LA Times.  She had gotten married!  There wasn’t a photo—but I wonder, maybe if I hadn’t discovered that leg, if I would have been a bridesmaid in that wedding.  It’s strange how little things in life change fate.  If only that door had remained locked and I hadn’t been so damned curious.  What an odd memory, eh? 

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365

Dear Ethers,

I am writing a very short post on purpose.  Why?  Because of all the comments and e-mails I have received.  I need to take everything in you all have said, really digest it, and come up with a thoughtful answer for tomorrow.  I think it’s best, because it will give me time to re-read advice and really ponder outside opinions.  At the end of the day, you guys are really the only ones who know the deepest truths about this situation and what you say I take VERY seriously–especially since you are my only source of advice.  So, to those of you out there who have held your tongues and might want to leave a comment—now is the time.  Again, thank you to everyone who cared enough to write long comments and honest advice.  Each word has been read and will be scrutinized before my post tomorrow.  I don’t know what time the entry will hit the ether, but when it does, trust me, my heart will be on my sleeve.  This is gonna be REALLY tough.  

Okay…until then.  May a revelation hit me—and if it doesn’t—may another set of questions maybe you all can help me with—hit the page.

Dedicatedly yours,

—One of 365