Forgotten Treasures (aka, Crap I Forgot About in Storage.)

I haven't posted in a week.  Terrible.  I'm tragically lazy and I spent the end of last week planning for a yard sale and I've been spending the beginning of this week thinking about considering to start planning to eventually, somehow, someday, do something with the stuff that didn't sell.  One cool part about emptying my storage facility, though, was finding a few things I thought I had rid myself of years ago.  See, I'm terrified that I'm slowly becoming a hoarder, so to prove to myself that I am not, I impulsively chuck things I end up crying myself to sleep over at a later date.  These are some things that escaped my neurotic bullshit:

Pink polyester in 1960's dream form.  Chock full of pink and clear crystals.  I bought this from a thrift store when I was in high school and I thought I had given it away to a friend.  Thank gawd, I'm not that generous.

Not vintage, but it will be someday.  I LOVE this faux leopard coat.  I totally plan on getting into body building so I'll have the strength to wear it again.  This thing weighs a ton.

Oh, how I love this little seafoam green radio.  Totally early 60's and works like a dream.  It only gets AM radio but that is fine by me.  Why does music sound better coming out of a 50 year old radio?  Answer:  Magic.  

I love this circa 1930 cookbook if only for the illustrations alone.  I think it was sponsored by Crisco because every recipe contains it as an ingredient.  One of these days, I'm going to make something out of it while wearing t-straps and finger waves and singing "All That Jazz."

You know what I love about this cookbook.  It has instructions on dress for the "help."  Holy shit.  If there is one thing that a classy broad needs, it's help.

I picked this little beauty up from the flea market about 10 years ago.  People either love it or they hate it with the intensity of 1,000 white hot suns.  Guess which category I fall into.

A closeup.  It doesn't get any classier than Botticelli Primavera.  Who says a classy broad can't appreciate fine art.

Now what am I going to do with this bitch?  Other than love it?  When I finally get my swingin' retro kitchen, I think I'm going to make a vignette and put this on display.  It's too cute.  Why don't they package kitchen sponges like this anymore?  Because they're lame, that's why.

This guy isn't vintage.  Nor was he forgotten.  But I couldn't help posting a picture of my panther, Bob.  He's making me an offer I can't refuse on my old washing machine.  Claws and rabbit-kicks may possibly be involved.

So that was my weekend.  Ridding myself of junk and sneaking this stuff back into my house.  Now I have to get busy, clean up and call Goodwill for a pickup and paint my nails cotton candy pink while wearing my leopard fur coat.  

Priorities. I have them.

San Franny Recap and Shit I Want Wednesday

Sweet Jeezus.  I'm finally back from San Francisco a day late and several hundred dollars short.  I was supposed to return to real life on Monday but I'm tragically impulsive and horribly narcoleptic and decided to stay an extra day.   I had wanted to check out some shops and live it up in San Franny like a classy-ass broad but my plans got head-butted by the cold hard fact that I was there alone with my kids.  SF is NOT a kid friendly town by any means and I swear to Cthulhu that my chilluns were the only chilluns in a 5 block radius.  Those artist-hobos and trust fund-hipsters didn't know what hit them.  Still, it isn't hard to have a good time in San Franny, even if your travel companions are between the ages of 2 and 9, and I'll tell you why:  The food in San Francisco is fucking delicious.  There seems to be a creamery and a bakery on every corner and I can't swing a baby without hitting an organic grass-fed burger joint.  I made figurative love to all of it.

Tapas and sangria at Esperpento in the Mission:

My offspring going to town on cured ham, alcachofas a la plancha, tortilla de patata, calamares fritas,  and pollo al ajillo.

Saffron, brown sugar-banana, dutch chocolate and vanilla coconut ice creams at Xanath in the Mission:

11:00 pm and cracked out on ice cream.

Grass-fed wieners and oysters on the half-shell in the Ferry Building:

I totally talked my oldest one into eating these

Rose, lilikoi, blood orange, and chocolate macaroons PLUS princess cake from Fillmore Bakeshop in Pac Heights:

Best macaroons.  Ever.  I'd give my right ovary for another half dozen.

Gigantic sandwiches from Mollie Stone's

I forgot to take a picture of my actual sandwich because I was too busy stuffing my face.

My weight in sourdough from Boudin:

I couldn't stop eating this and it wasn't even mine.  It was Liam's.  I ordered a salad like a dainty lady.

Wine and lethargy in Dolores Park:

Play your cards right and you'll find a lady selling Space Cakes for $2.50.  I settled for 2-3 glasses of wine and playing with strangers' dogs.

Salted-caramel soft-serve from Bi-Rite in Mission Dolores:

Once again, I forgot to take a picture because I was too busy nomming.

Hamburgers the size of your head from Urbun Burger in the Mission:

It's pretty hard to fuck up burgers and beer but still, pretty good in my opinion.

So, I hope this explains why my jeans are tight and my wallet is empty.  I hope we can do this again, San Francisco.  Loooooooove you.

On to some shit I want! (other than a faster metabolism and more macaroons.) 

 I was introduced to this in San Francisco by my brother:

I had never seen or heard of this before.  It's called Ploom.  It's like an e-cigarette though there's no "e" involved since it is powered by butane and it uses actual tobacco (or herbs) instead of chemical nicotine. It's like a portable vaporizer/hookah.  There's different flavored little pods that you just pop in and puff away and I like the fact that it's smokeless so you don't smell like a bum's nutsack like you do after smoking conventional cigarettes.  I just wish it was a little more stylish.  I should have taken a pic of me using it but you essentially look like you're sucking on a highlighting marker.  It does say "beta" on the side (it's a san franny start-up) so maybe they'll come out with a style that looks more Auntie Mame and less like an orally fixated co-ed.

Ploom, take note.  This is what I want:

Holiday in San Franny This Weekend

I love San Francisco.  I'm still kicking myself in the huevos for never moving there when I was younger and sans enfants.  Lucky for me, my brother lives there and I get to invite myself up for a visit whenever I feel like.  And being the classy sophisticate that I am, I really know how to live it up in this town. (Rock Band marathons; wine guzzling/tasting; cornmeal crust pizzas; black walnut ice cream at Fenton's; Chinatown for deals on lead poisoning and SARS.)

I plan on taking lots of pictures and acting like a total tourist even though I consider it a second home.

And here's a glimpse of what I plan on wearing:

Totally practical for chasing children through the Wharf, n'est-ce pas?

XOXO,

Rawnie

Pyrex and Me. Por Vida.

I started collecting pyrex several years ago because I loved the look of retro kitchens decorated with color coordinated bowls.  It was a fun thing to collect too since pyrex was so easy to find due to its durability and the fact that everyone and their Aunt Mimi had it.  It's getting a little harder to find and the thrift stores are catching on to its collectibility but I still manage to find some stellar pieces.   These are my faves:

My mother-in-law gave me the pink gooseberry cinderella bowls.  They were a gift to her from her Aunt Mimi.  She only gave them to me after I had a seizure-like fit when I saw them in her cabinet.  She said, "Well, I guess you can have them(? )" and the classy thing to do would be to say, "Oh no, I couldn't take them.  I was just admiring them."  However, the classy-broad thing to do would be to snatch them up before she could change her mind and stuff them into my suitcase.  Guess what I did.  Yup... I totally made her mail them to me. Even classier.

My old kitchen was decorated in turquoise and yellow.  Sunny and cheerful.  Just like my personality. Ha.  I think I got the bowls off of ebay which wasn't that awesome of a deal.  It's a mix matched set which wouldn't be bad but the yellow bowls do not match each other. C'est dommage.  The covered square bowl was picked up from the thrift store.  Probably for a mint.  I don't care.  I'm a sucker for original lids.

Spring Green pyrex.  I got the covered casserole from an antique store in Santa Paula during a car show and the cinderella bowl is from the thrift store.  It's a pretty common pattern and I would like to find the rest of the set.

I HEART refrigerator sets.  This is an incomplete set but I love the primary colors.  I actually got these for free from a neighbor who was being sent to live in a nursing home.  Her daughter said I could have whatever I wanted from the garage.  Thanks, Marge!

These are limited releases and don't belong to any sets.  I found both at the thrift store for fairly good deals.  The red one was $9 which I thought was kinda high but I rarely find the lid AND the stand for these bowls.  I often use these around the holidays and think they look retro swanky but I think it ends up looking like a tacky funeral potluck.  Still hasn't dissuaded me.

This is another 50's era limited release casserole.  It is my favorite and I don't know why.  I think I like the cartoony images and plus, it makes the best scalloped potatoes.  Love you, Little 2 qt Casserole.

Pyrex Wishes, and Pyrex Dreams.

XxXx,

Rawnie

Shit I Want Wednesdays - My Pink Kitchen. I think.

Psssst...I'll let you in on a little secret.  I live in my parent's house.  

Now kittens, don't get jealous; it's not as glamourous as it sounds.  Granted, my parents aren't really here and I have a big 90-year-old house to myself but nothing is mine.  It's like living in a museum that my kids repeatedly trash everyday.  I can't ever think about painting a room or changing the decor because it isn't mine.  

So, obviously, I'm totally working my butt off to get out of here and find a home to make my own, right?  Um, kinda.  Soon.  Eventually.  Mostly, I sit around and daydream about how I'd redecorate and right now, I want a pink kitchen.  I'm not exactly a girly girl, nor is pink my favorite color, but there is something so frivolous about a pink kitchen and I figure the kitchen area of my future home is mine and I can do whatever the hell I want.

Formica shouldn't make me drool, but in this case it does.

THIS is a refrigerator.  I can tell I'm a total control freak mom because I want Little Miss here to close the damn doors.

Duh, necessary.

It's not like those dishes are going to wash themselves.

I have a white one but I'm convinced cakes and breads will taste better when made with a pink mixer.

Pyrex dinnerware in Flamingo Pink.  Now, I'm a total pink pyrex junkie and I CANNOT find these in real life.  I have them in Lime but Flamingo is proving elusive.  Eventually I'm going to have to bite the bullet and start getting these online.

Found these on Etsy.  I need these for water.  Or highballs.  Okay, mostly highballs.

Want some punch?  What? Of course it's spiked.  What are we? Mormons?

So that's my list.  Totally reasonable, in my opinion.

Vintage Dieting and My Sveltification Project.

I've mentioned before that I have three little boys that are the apples of my eye. Unfortunately, I let these three apples do a number on my figure.  It doesn't help that I'm Mexican and if there are three things Mexicans know how to do well it's cook, eat, and drink.  The Holy Trinity, if you will.  Pair this with an aversion to physical exertion and you have yourself a recipe for disaster. I tried not to beat myself up too much about it, that is, until, I watched Jayne Mansfield in Promises! Promises! and realized she made this movie after birthing and breastfeeding three kids.  

That is some black magic/voodoo right there.

Oh well, I figure what has been done can be undone, and what can't be undone can at least be covered up with Spanx, girdles, corsets, and assorted ropes and pulleys.

But that got me thinking.  I've always loved vintage clothing but can rarely wear it.  Even though the tag says size 12, unless you are a modern size 6, that circa 1956 lavender tulle prom dress is not going to zip up.  DAMMIT JANET! Why were women so tiny back then?  Argh!  All my old cookbooks call for whole milk, butter, eggs, cream, organ meats, and fatty cuts of beef.  So what gives? Obviously, portions were smaller and Cheetos didn't exist.  Also, I'm assuming young women in the 50's grew up during the Depression when food wasn't always plentiful.  There are exceptions.  My Mexican Grandma is 5'10 with a size 10 shoe.  Her sisters were all about 6 foot with size 11-12 feet.  They often sewed their own clothes and according to Grams, they took the train to Los Angeles to have their shoes custom made by a father and son team that knew their shit.  They grew up during the depression and WWII but I'm guessing the difference, besides genetics, was that their dad was a vaquero and resident vet on a ranch, so food was never an issue in their house. 

When noting the size difference between modern women and women from 2-3 generations ago, people always point out that Marilyn Monroe was a "size 14" and "hefty" by today's standards.  Bullshit.  Anyone that knows vintage clothing knows that 50's era sizing bears no resemblance to modern sizes.  When Anna Nicole became famous, everyone drew comparisons between her and MM, which was misleading.  By all accounts, Anna Nicole was one big bitch.  Marilyn was downright tiny.  Curvy, but tiny.  For most of her career Marilyn stayed between 115-120, which is pretty slender for 5'6.  During times of stress, her weight temporarily "ballooned" to 140 *gasp.*

Still, I find Ms. Monroe's fitness regime intriguing.  She dabbled with weight lifting and stayed generally active (I'm assuming while not on a bender.)

I often workout in jeans and a bikini top, too.

Oh, hai!  I didn't see you there.

Plus, according to The Bombshell Manual of Style, Marilyn's defluffing diet doesn't exactly sounds like that of a petite little dewdrop.  It seems like she just ate normal food.  Except for "sweetbreads." Wtf?

Breakfast:

8:00 A.M. Orange juice or stewed prunes

Cereal, well cooked

Toast (white), 2 slices, crisp, with butter

Milk or weak cocoa, 1 cup

10:00 A.M. Milk, 1 cup, and 1 cracker

Lunch or Supper:

1:00 P.M. Choice of:

Egg, 1 (boiled, poached, shirred or scrambled)

or cottage cheese, 2 tablespoons

Choice of:

Potato, 1, baked or mashed

or spaghetti, boiled with tomato or butter (no cheese)

or noodes, 1/2 cup (boiled), add milk (no cheese)

Toast or bread (white), stale, 1 slice, with butter

Jell-O or cooked fruit

3:30 P.M. Milk, 1 cup, and 1 cracker

Dinner:

6:30 P.M. Choice of:

Lean beef (boil, broil or roast)

or chicken

or lamb chop

or sweetbread

or fish

or chicken liver

Potato, 1 (any way but fried)

Choice of:

1/2 cup tomatoes, beets, carrots, spinach, string beans or peas, pureed or strained

Bread (white), 1 slice with butter

Dessert: junket, custard, tapioca pudding or rice pudding or baked apple

11:00 P.M. Eggnog

Who knew eggnog was dietetic?  I'm sure it just boils down to calories in and calories out but I commend MM for eating well and enjoying food.  It beats eating baby food and air.

So that's where I'm at.  Trying to get back in shape and zip up those vintage cocktail dresses.  If my project fails, I can always use feathers to hide my double chin.

Plan B.

XOXO,

Rawnie

Weekend Recap: Gifts from Baby Jesus. To me.

A couple weeks ago, I got wrangled into my Aunt Roda's Lia Sophia party. For any of you who don't know what Lia Sophia is, it's overpriced jewelry that you buy at parties while you drink wine and eat your weight in hors d'œuvres. It's like Tupperware but with rhinestones and gold plating.  Even if you don't love the stuff, you end up buying something if only to pay for the 3 glasses of wine and half pound of prosciutto you just ate.  Anyway, fast forward, the jewelry we ordered came in Saturday. Woot(?) As I'm trying on my goods, my grandma mentions that she has a bracelet that will match my new stuff and hands me an awesome, hammered brass cuff. I love it, and not just because it's free.

Oh, and she says that she also has ANOTHER set of jewelry that I can have, if I want it...

*ears perk up* 

...They're 20 years old...

 *tell me more*

...They're Elizabeth Taylor....

*Grandma, You had me at 'Elizabeth Taylor'*

...Oh yeah, and they're from Avon...

*Fucking. Sold.*

Holy crap!  It's like Mr. T's mom created these herself.  I pity the fool that doesn't check these monstrosities out!

NOT Lia Sophia.  This is Elizabeth Taylor for Avon.  Treasured Vine Collection. Totally 80's via the 90's and in the original boxes.

The necklace looks like King Midas shit a funnel cake.

The cuff is actually the most wearable piece.  A keeper.

The earrings.  I suspect they are clip-ons because no ear holes would have the strength to hold these bad boys up.

I literally can't wait for a special occasion to wear these.  I'm thinking I may need to bust these out for my weekly cat food/booze run at Albertsons.  Cats, booze, and enormous costume jewelry were made for each other.  Plus, I'm an impatient person and I loathe putting off the inevitable.

The inevitable.

Sunday, I attended the Ventura Flea Market at Seaside Park.  It's a 3-4 times a year event where hoarders come out and sell their goods to other hoarders.  I love it.  Even though I'm broke, I managed to haggle my filthy mitts onto some basic necessities.

This, my friends, is a vanity set from the 1930's.  I made a sad clown face and Cathy felt bad and bought it for me for $25.  Good deal.  Thanks, Cathy.

Art Deco.  I like it.

Another view. Because it is important.

See how nice it looks on my homesteaded vanity.  The only way this vanity could become "more mine" is if I peed on it. Hopefully it won't come to that.

I also bought this with my own little money:

Vintage Ormolu Jewelry Casket.  $20.  Duh, totally necessary, and it matches my mirrored vanity tray.

I'm the first (and last) to admit this past weekend was pretty magical.  Unfortunately, most of my weekends don't include so many freebies or this much gold plating. C'est dommage.

XOXO,

Rawnie

Vanity Part Deux

Can you tell I'm un petit peu obsessesed with vanities and the boudoir?  I mean, I have three kids,  I'm jobless with bills to pay, my laundry is piled sky high, and I have school to think about so it's pretty obvious I'm good at prioritizing.  Take note, potential future employers!

Anyway, remember that vanity I told you about?  I failed to mention it's in my upstairs hallway.  It's still, what some would call, "not mine."  But I'm laying claim to it because 1.) A hallway is a STUPID place for a vanity and 2.)  I don't see anybody's name on it.  I'm homesteading this bitch and taking the pictures to prove it.

There.  I put some shit on it.  Mine.

Pink depression glass and a jewelry holder from Target.

The butterfly bracelet with the quarter sized garnet is vintage 1920's.   Probably my fave piece.

Grandma's pearls.

Ormolu vanity tray with vintage and new perfume bottles.  The black atomizer is from the 1920's.

Totally clutterfucked.

This is new to me.  Nippon hair reciever and powder jar with tray.

Finally got myself a new bottle of Black Rose.  I changed bottles.  It's easier to use with a crystal dauber and looks prettier too.  It would probably last longer in the original brown bottle which just means I need to use it faster.

Alright, and now I have to get back to the reality of poopie diapers and sticky juice boxes.  I hope you all have plans this weekend.  I created this set on Polyvore to show you what I'll be wearing*:

*in my dreams.

XOXO,

Rawnie