Antique Mall Beauty Hunt - Part II - Textiles

The seam at the top of one panel on a 3-way screen. I had no daydreams of seductive undressings behind this screen, no draping of filmy nylons or fetching corsets -- the fabric was so tired, so faded, the stitching broken. Instead, I thought of the countless immigrant women, sewing all day in ghastly warehouses, coming home to tiny, cold, cramped tenement houses, exhaustedly changing to comfortable shoes and donning their aprons to go tend a meager pot of potatoes over the wood burning stove. Tassels. It's not tassels I love so much as the material from which they're fabricated -- so varied, so colored, so embellished. TEXTURE. I've said it before, I'll say again: I am a texture 'ho!
You know those pits in McDonald's playland, full of colored plastic balls? I want one of those, filled with tassels. Tassel donations accepted! Stubby tassels, a burlap-esque fabric. Very cool. I'm picturing a Cabana, a beach chair, a great book like Eat, Pray, Love. (Yes, I touched!) A sweet child's dress, circa 1918 (per the tag). Such exquisite detailing. My favorite shot today: a rolled linen napkin with seashell napkin holder, a smooth china tray, seashells in the background. I imagine tea on a wicker table, set with white candles, white crocheted linens, on a sun porch overlooking the ocean. I imagine a green cutglass pitcher of tea, mismatched green & turquoise goblets, a crystal serving platter of fresh fruits. I imagine the lively voices of My Lovely Mother, Veronica, Alicia, Terrie, Corey Amaro, Mary Ann Moss, Patty Vandorin, and Mercedes, mingling with the background whoosh of ocean waves, as we all get to know one another. I imagine Miss Ciera among us, a child yet, but watching solemn-eyed our womanly interactions. I imagine Miss Zoe C-Poo wrapping herself around our legs then snoozing on a pillowed porch bench. This is my dream version of "matchmaking": making friends with amazing women. God, the beauty of a carelessly draped vintage crocheted piece. Even an average photo renders it irresitible! I don't think this is a good photo. At all. But I tried 4 times to delete it and I could not! Even a bad photograph can evoke memories, people. In this case, my Grandma Lydia, she of the flower arrangements and Nebraska heartland farm. In the dormer rooms on the 2nd floor of her farmhouse lived her bedroom suites, from the 40's. Each had a crocheted doily like this one, a framed photo like this one, a soft, old, crackled whitish-beige vase, like these. This picture stays. I remember, Grandma, I remember.