Category Archives: Clothes

Fashion at the ASA Art Market

This is one of the best Lakeside Art Markets I’ve been to in 21 years. The setting is charming, the art was so irresistible that I bought a painting and two pieces of jewelry even though I have not one inch of space on my walls to hang another painting and have so much jewelry that I’ve been giving it away to visiting friends and relatives.  I’ll show my new painting later once I receive it as the paint was still drying when I bought it..ha. But, the other thing I noticed was the number of ladies in absolutely smashing clothes. At times it looked like models in a fashion show wandering through the crowd. Here are just a few of my favorites.

They, themselves, were walking works of art:


Please click on photos to enlarge.

My Shoes

My Shoes

My shoes go out without me. They do it all the time,
and do the things I never do. They jog. They hike. They climb.
When I wake up I find them strewn throughout the house—
one flip flop on the counter. High heels beneath my blouse
that’s flung across the table where I don’t remember putting it.
I bet they’ve been out dancing—two-stepping and high-footing it.

When my cowboy boots go riding, I’d like to go along.
I’m pretty sure, however, they think things would go wrong.
Perhaps the horse would throw me or I’d wind up getting lost.
I’m sorry that I bought them, considering the cost!
Other people are the boss of all their clothes and shoes,
but when my shoes and I face off, I am the one to lose.

I could take to going barefoot. This would work while at the beach.
Then when all my shoes are out far beyond my reach,
into the surf I’ll wade and then wander out again,
trapping sand between my toes everywhere I’ve been.
So when my shoes get home at night, they’ll be completely clueless

that I’ve left them out as well by venturing out shoeless!


We were asked to write about an ordinary objects For dVerse Poet’s Pub.

Cruel Question

Cruel Question

It bothers me, I must confess.
What happens to a wedding dress
after it’s had its opening day?
Is it simply packed away?
If so, you’d think once time has passed
they’d finally reappear at last
in church bazaar or resale store
or other places where things of yore
emerge from attic, basement, closet
or other area of deposit.
(In whatever dark place they’ve all lain,
thinking they’ll be used again.)

There should be rooms filled with selections
of these nuptial confections.
Warehouses stuffed full of them,
varied in neckline, cut and hem.
Why do we not see huge barrages
of wedding gowns sold from garages
along with strollers and kiddie toys
cast off by grown up girls and boys?
Surely every aging bride
has a wedding dress inside
a trunk or closet—way up high.
What happens when their wearers die?

Garments of satin or nylon net—
what could be the etiquette
that guides a family in such matters?
If the gown is not in tatters
and worn away by age and mold,
surely it would be resold.
If so, where are the warehouses
where gowns bereft of brides and spouses
lie stockpiled awaiting chances
for other wedding vows and dances?
Where is the wedding gown museum
where we might journey to go to see ’em?

I’ll now chance being thought abrupt,
unsentimental, cold, corrupt
by saying what I have to say.
Do families throw these gowns away?
Buried under hills of trash
is there a wedding veil or sash?
Satin bodices and trains
diminished by decades of rains?
Do gowns once virginally snowy,
and spectacularly showy
now lie buried like their dreams,
slowly decaying at the seams?

These images, you might guess,
seem calculated to depress.
Who wants these pictures in her head
as her wedding vows are said?
This poem is meant for crones like me,
bent of back and stiff of knee,
who’ve run out of memories to ponder
and so must journey over yonder
to the macabre side of pondering
for their mental wandering.
That said, past brides, will you confess
what happened to your wedding dress?

The prompt today is abrupt.

Wound Around

daily life color111 (2).jpg
    (That’s a tiny banana he is holding up, by the way. Really. You can see the banana skin.)

Wound Around

Howe’er you wrap it––short or long,
it’s hard to beat a good sarong.
Easy to pack, easy to wear,
It hardly takes a bit of care.
If it;s been wound up in a wad,
just throw it o’er the curtain rod

and all the wrinkles will hang out.
Then when you wish to gad about,
just wind it tight around your frame.
Front and back are just the same;
so do not look to find a label,
just wind as well as you are able.

Women? Tuck your boobies in.
Going braless is no sin.
Slim or chunky, all will fit.
Just wind yourself inside of it.
Whether it’s two times around,
or only one, you’re tightly bound.

Then if as garment you abhor it,
there are other uses for it.
If decorating is your passion,
a sarong is much in fashion.
Just press it smooth as you are able
to cover up a chair or table.

At other times, it comes in handy
for it works just fine and dandy
as picnic cloth or bath towel or
mosquito shield over your door.
Use it to cover up your bed
or wind a turban ’round your head.

And when your head gear you unravel,
it serves as nightgown when you travel.
Swimsuit cover up or blanket,
however you may wind or yank it,
you simply cannot e’re go wrong
when you invest in a sarong!

The Prompt: New Sensation––Ah, sweet youth. No matter whether you grew up sporting a fedora, penny loafers, poodle skirts, bell-bottoms, leg-warmers, skinny jeans, Madonna-inspired net shirts and rosaries, goth garb, a spikey mohawk, or even a wave that would put the Bieber to shame, you made a fashion statement, unique to you. Describe your favorite fashions from days of yore or current trends you think are stylin’.

Clothes Make the Man but Women Make the Clothes

Clothes Make the Man but Women Make the Clothes

In matters of both clothes and hair
we profit from the use of flair.
A scarf, a pin, a tilted hat
reveal that we are more than that

we choose to put up our heads
or bodies–for our hats or threads
too often conceal our forms or hair,
not showing what is under there.

Sometimes it’s an improvement, true:
our hair dyed an unfortunate hue
or bodies altered by midnight trips
kitchenward that spread our hips.

This gown I wear is brilliant red,
It spreads around me in my bed–
ankle-length and numinous,
free-flowing and voluminous .

I obscure my  trunk and limbs in it.
My zaftig form just swims in it.
It makes me feel petite and small.
Inside, I’m hardly there at all!

When I awaken, I’m not alert,
throw off the covers, unwind the skirt
from where it’s twisted around my legs,
I yawn and blink to expunge the dregs

of sleep from everywhere it tries
to prolong my dreams and clot my eyes.
It’s in the bathroom where I see
how I’ve made this gown uniquely me.

My reflection in the bathroom glass
shows its brilliant red en masse.
Its designer’s plan I clearly flout,
for I wear it inside out.

The Prompt: The Clothes (May) Make the (Wo)man–How important are clothes to you? Describe your style, if you have one, and tell us how appearance impacts how you feel about yourself.