La bailarina

For nearly a decade, I had been an occasional swing dancer at various Rockabilly venues. After awhile, it got pretty boring since most Rockabillies don't know anything beyond the 4-count Jive and few knew how to do East Coast Swing. Trust me, any dancer who touts how great they are at Jive really aren't great dancers at all. In 2009, I decided to try other forms of swing such as Lindy Hop, Charleston and Balboa. I took a few private lessons to refine what I already knew and my teacher immediately said, "what's your purpose? Do you want to perform or compete because you already know how to dance." I never gave the matter much thought since I felt I needed more improvement. So he trained me to be a performer and recommended joining a troupe.

When I returned to San Francisco, I was determined to join a dance troupe. A friend of mine introduced me to one lady who ran the Deco Belles. When I expressed my interest, she took a good look at me and stated, "there are other dance troupes in the Bay Area," and she immediately dismissed my presence to talk with my friend. I was insulted. She judged me solely on my appearance and not my ability as a dancer. At first I thought, "is it because I'm not rail thin?" That had always been something that deterred me from inquiring about other troupes. Most of the girls are really short and petite. I'm very tall and curvy. Later, I met a Deco Belle who was much larger than me. She stated that it was my tattoos that this person took exception to. It made sense. None of the Belles had tattoos. I guess I felt a little better.

I heard about other troupes and saw their routines, but I didn't really feel a connect with them, or I thought they just weren't that great. I thought about training for burlesque but I'm not quite confident enough to take my clothes off in front of an audience. Again, I attended shows and noticed there were plenty of bigger girls who knew how to get a crowd going. More power to them, but I'm just not that confident...yet. 

Earlier this year, I was told about a newly formed dance troupe looking for more swing dancers...and they had tattoos! Without even a meeting I said, "count me in." The troupe is focused more on a 1930s style Chorus Girl dance troupe. The style is Charleston as well as some Lindy moves. Over the past four months we had been learning new routines and training for future performances. We met every Monday night to learn new moves. It was a bit of a challenge getting all 12 girls committed to the troupe and we ended up losing 2 of them. Other times, someone was always absent (I admit I missed 2 practices). It made it harder to foresee how this whole routine would look, but I remained committed to the group (as did everyone else) and began meeting twice a week for practice.

We had custom fitted outfits to go with our first routine including bobbed wigs. We started doing dress rehearsals a few weeks ago and the first thing I noticed was that the outfit was a little big. I'd lost weight since the measurements, but it didn't look that bad. After everything was put together, I stared at myself in the walled mirror. I have NEVER shown this much leg in public. All my dresses are at or below knee length. It took me awhile to get past my image. (I have a complex about my body; an issue I've battled since I was 14 which will be saved for another post later.) One of the girls asked what was wrong. I just stated that I'm not used to showing my legs. My legs take up more than half my body and they're not stick thin. The first thing she said was, "you have great legs! You're lucky that yours taper. Nice ample thighs, strong limbs going down to a thin ankle." I never really thought of my legs that way, but it definitely changed my perception of how I viewed them.

Last night (June 2, 2013) was our debut performance in Alameda. I was super nervous; not so much about the routine but exposing my legs. I wore a long coat to cover myself before finally revealing my shape. I was incredibly surprised by the positive comments I received. Curves and hourglass were the two words I heard most to describe my shape. I never minded them much because I'd always had a smaller, cinched waist which was something I liked about myself. My posterior has always been round and firm; another plus. But my legs....I am learning to accept them more. 

The performance was an absolute success. Everyone was whooping and hollering as we danced. They especially liked our "grapevine" where we kicked out and flashed our legs. I was very nervous most of the time, but after that first performance was over, I just smiled. We had such a positive response that other promoters want to book us for future events. I am absolutely amazed. It was definitely a blast being up there with the other ladies that I'm looking forward to our future performances and additional routines.

Being a part of a Chorus girl dance troupe has not only heightened my love for swing dance, but it has helped me to be more comfortable with my body. I think, eventually, I will continue with burlesque (in addition to the chorus line). I already have a song and dance; I just need the right costume. That will come in due time. For now, it's about the chorus line. Stay tuned for additional posts, pictures and videos as they come.

Adoro Le Scarpe!

Just what the title says (ma in italiano). I love love love shoes. As my vintage wardrobe has expanded, so has my shoe collection. I've bought a few true vintage shoes, but I'm always afraid to wear them out on the dance floor, so I have relented and decided to buy reproduced pairs. However, they're not your typical repros from the mall or big box stores. They're from shoe designers who, themselves, are vintage aficionados specializing in historically accurate footwear. I've decided to buy exclusively from three shops: Re-mix Vintage, American Duchess and Aris Allen (classic footware made specially for swing dancing).

I have more shoes than the ones shared below, but these are the favorites. So as my collection grows, I will add more pics to this post for you all to fawn over. Enjoy!

The Gibson from American Duchess

The It Girl from Remix

The 23-Skidoo from American Duchess

The Picasso (top) and The Briarcliff from Remix

Treasures from Treasure Island

On the last weekend of each month, Treasure Island holds its monthly flea market where visitors can peruse the open-air spaces for antiques, collectibles, handmade products and re-purposed goods. In short, an outdoor Etsy store. Out on the lawn are food trucks selling various cuisines from breakfast to lunch. The best part; it's dog-friendly so I always have Daisy in tow. Even if I don't find anything worthwhile, it's worth the small entrance fee just  to enjoy the day and converse with my fellow SF locals.

Daisy with some goats; Shopping; Enjoying the day; Bubbles!!!

Today was another beautiful day to spend on the island. I wasn't expecting to find anything in particular; it was just a morning strolling with some friends. Yet, I DID find something. I found an antique caddy from the 1930s. Any other time, I would've just skipped over it. Considering it was a football theme (and I love football), and it was only $3, I decided to buy it.

I'll call him Joe.

So now he stands next to another caddy known for a brief scene in one of the best films of the 1990s. Can you guess which one?

May's Getaway: Pescadero, CA

May was a relatively stressful month in that the semester at SF State is coming to a close. It was a lot of presentations and projects. As a result, I neglected my weekend hiking activity to focus on my work. Thankfully that is done with; just one more semester, and I'll have earned my master's degree.Yay me! So it's back to being one with nature and searching for new trails.

If there was any a time to leave San Francisco, this was the weekend to do it. Bay to Breakers draws in a large weekend crowd, and the race itself shuts down the roadways. I wanted no part of it (maybe next year since our dance troupe is thinking of doing the race as a team). So I decided to venture south to Pescadero. Again, I took Cabrillo Highway instead of the quicker route along 280. It was the first time that I drove through the new tunnel just past Pacifica. I was hoping they'd keep the old road open for those who wanted to venture off the beaten path. Alas, it remains closed. I'll miss that meandering drive.

Before getting to town, I stopped at Pescadero State Beach and Marsh. I walked along the coastline before traversing beneath the highway and into the marsh lands. What a site it was.

It was so peaceful listening to the rustling trees, the ocean breaking along the shoreline, streams flowing along the river bed, and birds chirping in song. Along my path were a few hares hopping cautiously and lizards scurrying into bushes. Intertwined amongst the bushes are the poison ivy vines. I was extra cautious after having been infected by the plant's toxins a few months ago. Not fun. But I made it through without a scratch.

After my 2 hour journey, I drove into town. It's about a 2 mile stretch from the coastline before coming to the first (the only) stop at Pescadero. It's only a single street that takes you into its downtown. The buildings and homes are straight out of an old western film. The folks are friendly and give you a cheerful smile as you pass along the sidewalk. There were a few shoppes open for business. One lady had her vintage cooking wares on display. I asked how much she was selling them for until she said it was for show. She just wasn't ready to part with them just yet. A few doors down was the town's antique shop. Unfortunately it was closed, but I peered through the windows to find a wonderful array of old hats, clothing and housewares. 

As I continued further into town, I kept thinking about my casual walks with my grandmother in old Earlimart. It's the same country atmosphere where everyone knows each other. At the local mart was an outdoor area where people ate lunch and listened to the local musicians play a few sets. I noticed a few out of towners (like myself) visiting the area as a way of escaping from the hustle and bustle of city life.

Just outside of town is the local cemetery; St. Anthony's Catholic Cemetery. Although at one point it was known as Mt. Hope. The headstones dated back to the late 1800s. I always found old cemeteries fascinating. It's not so much a morbid curiosity as it is just an acknowledgement and appreciation of those whose lives once thrived here generations before. In a way, it's kind of a venture to the past.

As I sat and observed my surroundings, I pondered whether or not to live in this area. It's still the beach/country town that I desire. At this point I can say that my preferred domicile is between Montara and Pescadero. I definitely want to stay closer to nature and the serene qualities it offers. Some day.

Posin' (updated)

San Francisco 1996: I was aboard the 24 Divisadero line reading a short novel on my way to work when two flamboyant gay men boarded the bus, looked right at me, and beelined in my direction. They sat at a seat directly in front of mine making eye contact with me. 

"Bettie Page," he said. 

"Excuse me?" I was taken back by the matter of fact tone.

"You look just like Bettie Page," he repeated.

We continued on a short conversation until we arrived at my spot. Before departing he said, "You should go into modeling. You have a beautiful smile and great legs." I seriously thought he was pulling mine because I've always had a complex about my legs, but I smiled and said thank you.

I had worked at a corsetry shop just off Castro, and I told my colleagues of the encounter. It was as if it were a moment of clarity. "*GASP* You DO look like her!" We proceeded to do a quick photo shoot with me wearing waist cinchers and corsets. The internet was still in its infancy and the shoppe's website still needed work. My co-worker uploaded one of the photos. It was my first modeling gig.

Modeling was something of a hobby that I'd do off an on. It definitely wasn't something I'd taken seriously. After all, it wasn't a real career for me. I continued on with my studies focusing on my teaching career. Sometimes I'd model for some aspiring photographer friends just so they could build their portfolio. I never thought to ask for copies of the images. But again, it wasn't important to me.

As I became more focused on my career, the requests for doing gigs were slim; mainly because I declined. I was just too busy with work. Eventually, the stress of the job caught up with me when students (male and female alike) become to obsessed to a point where they begin stalking, harassing, and one eventually leading to an assault. 

When you're thrown into a difficult situation, you start to re-evalute your life. Yes it was a horrible experience, but sometimes bad things need to happen to good people as a wake-up call. My job was my life. I stopped doing things for myself.

A very good friend of mine asked if I wanted to do a photoshoot just to get me out of my slump. "You do so much for others. Do something nice for yourself for a change." I thought, why not? It was a nice afternoon when I got all gussied up and began posing (and hamming it up) for the camera. 

My friends loved the shots and they encouraged me to continue modeling. I simply rolled my eyes and laughed. "I'm sort of a late bloomer at this point. I'm in my 30s!" I always felt like I was too late. My age, my body; I just can't compete with all the young talent.

So I slowly got back into it. I've lost most of (and continue to slowly lose) the weight I gained with Demian.  I've definitely gained a lot more confidence, but I know my body is a continued work in progress. Though I've accepted my hourglass shape and my firm round posterior, I know where to improve. I've invested in a waist cincher to help train my waist to develop that wasp shape. My swing dancing is helping me tone my arms and legs. I underwent extensive laser treatment to remove hair from my legs, underarms, face, and yes even the Brazilian (my time in the shower has been cut in half). And after years of research and questions, I've decided to go ahead with a breast augmentation at the end of this year. No, they won't be porn star enormous. I just want to be in proportion because right now, I'm far from it.

As of late, I've been getting emails from photographers asking to work with me. One of them even paid me.  I don't expect to make a living off of modeling. (Heck, I'm still teaching, but this time at the college level which is far less stressful.) In fact, I'm doing it more for myself and entering contests. If I win, that's great. If not, no big deal. Though I did come in 3rd place for one contest. It was nice to receive some accolades. I know more photo shoots will come along the way considering that I'm an active member of a 1930s-era chorus line.

I will continue to update this post as more shoots come my way. So in the meantime, enjoy some of the shots below.

Cheers,

Rose Red

The Great Gatsby...not so great

I attended the viewing yesterday. My rating would be 2 stars out of 5. I didn't completely dislike the film, but there were definitely moments when I felt like walking out of the theatre. My pre-assessment of this film will remain along with my final in italics.

The Great Gatsby is a literary masterpiece. I've read the novel at different stages of my life; my junior year of high school, my junior year of college and as a teacher of junior and senior English. (I am currently developing a lesson plan to teach the novel at the collegiate level.) The plot is quintessential Roaring Twenties known for its jazz music, flapper culture, prohibition, and bootlegging crime syndicate. Author F. Scott Fitzgerald takes his readers on an exploration of decadence as he describes, in gaudy detail, the lifestyles of the elite and influential.

I still feel this way. No film can ever remain faithful to the novel on which its based, but I tried to go into this viewing separating the two as completely independent of each other. As such, there will be no comparisons to the novel, but a review solely on the film's merits.

So someone may think that a person who loves the novel may be excited about the upcoming 2013 film adaptation. Well, I'm not. For one, I don't usually like watching films after I've read the books on which they're based (though I did enjoy the 1974 adaptation). However, considering my love for all things vintage, I decided to give the film a shot. I'm on the list to watch the premier this Thursday, and of course I will be dressed in appropriate period attire.

Indeed I attended in period appropriate attire. I wore a true vintage day dress from 1927. It was paired with a late 20s hat (not a cloche). My hair is shoulder length which is a bit long for a bob that was popular in its day. Instead, I opted to roll up my hair at the base of my scalp and pin-curl the lose ends; typical of a 20s lady with long hair. When I attended the premier, I expected to find women donning the stereotypical attire. Yes, there were many women in beaded dresses with feathers and headbands. As if this was the only style of its day. Understandably, they were mimicking the wardrobe displayed on screen. 

I really don't like Leo DiCaprio, and I abhor the lackluster acting skills of Tobey Maguire, but I'm hoping the set direction and the make-up/wardrobe ensembles will save this picture.

I must admit that DiCaprio gave a great performance as Gatsby. He truly was into his character not just physically but emotionally. Maguire was typical Maguire; wide eyed and slack jawed. He nearly ruined the picture for me. Between Daisy and Jordan, the female leads, I felt Daisy was just too bored throughout the picture and Jordan provided the deadpan comical relief. She had some great one-liners (of course Fitzgerald provided these quips). Joel Edgerton as Tom Buchanan was ever so despicable much like his literary counterpart; a vile, racist cad. Awesome performance.

The wardrobe department obviously did their homework for men's wardrobe. I must say DiCaprio looked stunning in his attire both casual and evening. The menswear was varied to include daytime, casual, evening, and sporty. The women's wardrobe was a bit lackluster. It was as if the wardrobe coordinator bought beaded dresses off the rack and said, "here, put these on and dance."

Speaking of dancing; apparently the film's budget didn't leave room for a choreographer or even dance lessons. When Mulligan and Maguire attempted to do the Charleston, I just wanted to say, "please stop." Many of the elaborate (?) dance numbers were too modern. It was as if the local disco dance hall had a 20s dress up theme night complete with hip hop and waving hands in the air. Please. View any 20s film and you will see NO ONE danced that way. The "chorus girls" were straight out of a hip hop video gyrating their hips and mugging the camera. Bleh! 


The cinematography was horrible the first half of the film. It felt too cartoony. The best way to explain this is: think about "Who Framed Roger Rabbit" in the scene where Eddie Valiant visits toon town. The chaos and the speed of its pace were nearly identical to that of Gatsby's New York City. One of the characters was too comical to take seriously as a flapper girl. And I don't mean ha ha funny, but over the top silly. Her chartreuse hair was too plastered to create an effective Marcel wave style.


The last half of the film slowed down to focus on Gatsby's psyche and unrequited love for Daisy. At this point, the film becomes tolerable to where you can feel great empathy for the eponymous character.

Last night, as I was watching Mad Men, the newest preview aired. Imagine my horror upon hearing hip hop music as its backdrop and the names of Jay-Z, Beyoncé, will.i.am, Fergie...and blah blah blah flashed across the screen. How can someone take an era renowned for its jazz influence and insert hip hop in its place?  

And that brings up to the musical direction. I had not realized that hip-hop existed in the 1920s. I was quite sure that the decade was known as The Jazz Age. Apparently the director's rationale was to appeal to younger audiences, but what he's really selling is a lie. If the intent is to market an era to younger generations, this can be done with era appropriate music. There were some risqué tunes at its time as well as upbeat tempos. The contemporary music was too much of a distraction.

 A complete and total abomination.

Okay, so maybe not completely. The music and party/dance sequences were too over the top to enjoy, but when it came to the storyline, it was bearable. Director Baz Luhrmann has Fitzgerald to thank for that, otherwise it would just be another movie bust much like his previous films.

Exploring the backyard

Each weekend, I try to explore areas outside San Francisco. I spend most of my time in Half Moon Bay, or I'll explore other regions around Marin and Sonoma counties. Those areas make me feel at peace. I guess it's the country bumpkin blood that I inherited from my dad (after all, he is a country boy). My reasoning always boils down to my need to leave the fast paced urban/city life. Then I thought about it carefully. I'm rarely in San Francisco. I work in Silicon Valley. I spend weekends along the Peninsula. My hair appointments are in North Oakland. I shop antique/vintage fairs in Alameda. The area in San Francisco where I reside and the SF State campus couldn't be more suburban (The Sunset). My local hangout is West Portal where I always bring my visiting family; it doesn't even feel like San Francisco (which is how I like it).

This weekend I decided to stay in town. With Daisy in tow, I set out to stroll around the following areas: SoMa, Haight Street, Hayes Valley, Noe Valley, and Mission. I did my usual vintage shopping along Haight so that I could visit some of the vintage boutiques (and I don't mean those repro stores. I mean real vintage clothing). Of course, most of the clothing is severely overpriced (especially at Decades of Fashion), but I did make out with a late 1950s day dress for a relatively good price (and I got a discount). I received a text from a friend asking to meet for lunch.

We opted to hang out in Hayes Valley; some place different for a change. When we met up, I showed him my purchase. He absolutely adored it. He asked if I bought anything else along Haight. I just shouted, "I HATE shopping at brick and mortar shops. There's just no negotiating the price. I'll stick to the vintage fairs. At least I can haggle there." He just started laughing, but it was true! We walked into Ver Unica. The shop was appropriately named considering that the prices were astronomical! Completely ridiculous as most of those dresses I can find for a quarter of those prices.

Dark Garden was just around the corner, and I'd been wanting to go there for a fitting. Though I love my hourglass figure, I've always wanted a waist cincher for that wasp-waist look. I tried a few samples on and fell in love. I was warned that corsets can be quite addicting. They certainly are. I'm already thinking about getting an overbust (and possibly an underbust) later in time. But today, it was a waist cincher. I placed a custom order in the fabric and colors of my choice. It's going to be an agonizing six week wait. 

My friend and I had lunch at a random cafe. Overpriced food with an underwhelming taste. Oh well. There's just no satisfying this vegetarian. (We should've gone to Herbivore up on Divisadero.) We sat outside so that Daisy could eat along with us. We headed over to a small park, Patricia's Green, to take in the sun and let Daisy play with other dogs. So much had changed in the area. I remember back in the 90s it was a total ghetto area. Gentrification happens. The old freeway offramp is now occupied by the Hayes Valley farm. I remembered thinking, what happened to the Fell exit off 101? That was always my exit whenever I drove to USF back in the day. Now I know.

We later had an urge for frozen yogurt and settled on a hole in the wall in Noe Valley. Afterward, we perused some shabby chic shops.

We made our way back through the Mission when we decided to call it a day. I kept thinking how much I've forgotten about the wonderful places urban San Francisco has to offer. It's quite nice, but I do prefer the quieter areas where I can relax far away from the crowds. I'll still leave for Half Moon Bay eventually, but it is nice exploring San Francisco once in a while; especially on a warm, beautiful day.

San Francisco in a nutshell.

My newest vintage acquisition

It's not what it used to be

Call me a vintage snob. I will proudly admit that I am one. I have a fairly large collection of vintage clothing dating from the late 1920s to early 1950s. I've researched the patterns, designs and manufacturing of vintage clothing so that I know I'm getting a real vintage piece whenever I shop. I avoid online retailers in favor of antique/vintage fairs because I can study the clothing and try them on for size. However I choose to dress, I make sure to wear the accompanying make-up and hairstyle of its respective era.  Here's an example:

Authentic 30s dress, oxfords, hair clip. 30s style MUAH

These efforts require commitment and what I've noticed about those claiming a Rockabilly (RAB) lifestyle is that most won't put forth the effort and will rely on "repros" (mass produced reproduction clothing). After having attended some local Rockabilly (RAB) shows, I'm very disappointed on what the genre has become. At the same time, it's quite humorous to see folks trying so hard to look 50s who utterly fail in their attempts and proceed to criticize others who do it right.

Companies like Stop Staring, Rock Steady, Trashy Diva, Revamp, (and now Bettie Page clothing), etc began reproducing the vintage styles en masse. While these companies can certainly be credited for reintroducing the styles to a younger generation, it has done more harm than good for the vintage aficionado. Those of us who do appreciate and respect the diverse eras of yesteryear are often shrugged off as snobs. They just don't get it.

These 20-somethings have crashed a scene (or two) and created a hodgepodge of different eras and proudly labeled it Rockabilly. They've mixed about 50 years of fashion and culture into one abomination.  It isn't a lifestyle for them but a hobby in which they collect all things old without respecting its value. Membership in their scene consists of tattoos, black hair (slicked or pomped for the guys and bangs or rolls for the girls), cuffed jeans, repro dresses, a bad attitude and love of booze. Requirement number 1: Be an alcoholic. Requirement number 2: Be a total a-hole or b*tch.

Don't get me wrong. I enjoy Rockabilly. It's a music genre that I enjoy listening to as well as late 19th century popular, fox trot, classic big band/jazz, jump blues, classic country, Rock-n-Roll, DooWop, and finally, 80s New Wave. Somehow, though, someone hijacked the music genre and made it a wardrobe faux pas purchasing low-end, high priced repros to try to look more authentic. That's all well and good, but here's the problem; it isn't authentic, nor is it creative.

This is what I've seen at various Rockabilly shows and VLV:

• Cuffed Jeans
• T-shirts (Lucky 13 seems to be the most popular)
• Converse shoes
• Motorcycle boots (and they don't ride motorcycles)
• Victory Rolls (This is WWII era!)
• Flower clips (also rooted in 40s fashion)
• Dramatically over made-up faces fit for a drag queen. 
• Leopard Prints
• Polka Dots
• Cherries
• Gingham
• Black and Red colors (exclusively)
• At least 25 girls wearing the EXACT SAME DRESS from Bettie Page Clothing.
• Pin-up girls (they actually wore more clothing and less make-up during its heyday)
• Tattoos with the following themes: cherries, swallows (often misidentified as sparrows), dice, pistons, classic cars, lady luck, flames, brass knuckles, rat finks, spider webs, nautical stars, microphones, anything alcohol related (esp. Pabst)
• Foul mouthed (especially the women)
• Jiving/Strolling/Bopping (learn another dance!)

About 10% of the crowd wears authentic vintage clothing, and it's this crowd who are the nicest individuals who truly appreciate vintage eras. They don't describe themselves as a specific scene or era. They, too, shake their heads at these Rockasillies.

A while back, I came upon this youtube video mocking the culture. Rather, mocking posers who claim a "rockabilly lifestyle". I think it's a perfect fitting to end this post. Most readers who find themselves nodding as they read this will find the video humorous. Those who take offense to it are probably the very people I'm criticizing in this post. Relax, take a look at your repro wardrobe, trash it and start over. No one is telling you to stop trying to live a bygone era. Just do it right.

April's Getaway: Los Angeles

Back in February, I posted about making quick getaways from San Francisco life (thanks to my friend Jean who encouraged me to make weekend trips at least once a month just to relax and clear my head.) In March, I took a trip to (and blogged about) Santa Cruz.

April's getaway was meant to be a trip to Folsom, CA where I could tour the area and attend its antique festival. The sole purpose was to find The Victrola Man, but since I had already found him and purchased a victrola from him at Alameda Antique Faire, I thought it best to cancel and reroute my trip. I decided to fly down to Los Angeles for the weekend.

Art Deco Airport

During my stay, I visited with my parents. They have the most peaceful house nestled in the hills. The only sounds are the humming birds, the wind chimes and rustling trees dancing in the breeze. We usually wander around in the backyard tending to the plants and chatting about random topics. Those are always my favorite moments with my parents; enjoying the morning with a warm cup of coffee and letting time pass us by. We drove down to Old Town Orange to dine at a Mexican restaurant that was once a church. It had the most beautiful stain glass. Afterward, we walked around Old Town browsing all the antique shops; another one of our favorite past times.

Old Town Orange

I spent Sunday with my brother at his loft in Downtown Los Angeles. My brother has always been the urban nightlife type of person whereas I tend to prefer quieter, peaceful environments (like HMB). Though he lives on the top floor (with spectacular views of DTLA), you can hear urban life quite clearly, especially all the sirens. I just smiled and sighed, "ah life in the big city." My brother sort of laughed to himself. Like San Francisco, DTLA has everything within walking distance. We had dinner at the Los Angeles Brewing Company while watching our L.A. Lakers take game 1 over the Spurs.

Relaxing with my hermanito

Downtown Los Angeles structures

After the game, we dressed up in our 1930s best and walked down to The Cicada Club. Each Sunday they have a weekly swing band and dance. On this particular Sunday, they had a Jive Aces and Satin Dolls collaboration. It was a classic jazz ensemble paired with a chorus girl act reminiscent of the prohibition era. I was pleasantly surprised to see some of my SoCal swing dance friends in attendance. It had been quite awhile since I last danced with them; at least 8 months. But it was like old times; only this time it was in classic Art Deco elegance.

I didn't get to do as much vintage shopping as I'd like. However, I finally got to patronize the Remix Vintage shop. I'm not too fond of buying clothing and shoes online because I prefer to try on an item before purchase. This is why I always stick to antique/vintage fairs for my purchases. I don't purchase reproduction clothing (I've amassed a large collection of vintage threads), but I do make exceptions for shoes especially when they're designed from authentic vintage styles. I've kept my eye on the "It Girl" shoes (a la Clara Bow) and they definitely cost a pretty penny. But they are oh so worth every cent I spent; perfect for collegiate shag dancing. I've strayed from wearing early 1950s attire in favor of 1920s-1940s (that will be another post for later). The It-Girl shoes are the classic 1920s style.

The "It-Girl" shoes.

The one thing I did not get to do was contact my tattoo artist for more work. I found a really great design, but I just didn't have the time to fit it in my ultra short schedule. Perhaps on my next visit (June?).

About the only downer of the trip was my return home to SF. As much as I abhor SoCal (I've become quite the NorCal girl), it does sadden me to leave my family. I have the greatest, most supportive and loving parents a person could have and it always pains me to say goodbye. But I know it's not the last of my visits. Thankfully my preferred airline always has fare sales. 

So that was my getaway for April. May's Getaway is still in the early planning stages. Stay tuned.

My newest (and greatest) vintage acquisition!

Though I'd been updating my previous post (Antique/Vintage Hunting) with my latest vintage finds, today's purchase needed to be a post of its own.

After many years of fawning over old gramophones at various antique flea markets, antique shops, estate sales sold for astronomically high prices, I finally FINALLY purchased one today at Alameda Pointe Antique Faire.

Let's start from the beginning...

I originally came across a seller (whom I nicknamed "The Victrola Man") back in January, but I didn't have the money at the time. He was an older gentleman who restored old gramophones. I asked if he often sold at Alameda.  He said that he lived in Sacramento so he didn't always sell there every month. I told him, "if it's meant to be, I'll find you again." Well, I wanted it to definitely be. For the past three months, I drove to antique fairs in Sacramento, Concord, Santa Cruz, Alameda (again and again), Treasure Island and Cow Palace. I had no luck; not even in his hometown! Even though there were other sellers who had gramophones, the Victrola man would add extra needles and about thirty 78s; all for a relatively low price. Plus, Victrola was (and is) THE brand to own. No knockoffs, Edisons or RCAs for this vintage gal.

This morning, I met my friend for breakfast (Marti's Place has the best darn blueberry pancakes) and he asked, "what are we all looking for today?" I immediately said, "I'm still on the hunt for Victrola Man. I want a Victrola." And of course, I had to stop and visit my vintage clothing seller (Tracy) who always provides me with 1920s-40s clothing and accessories.

I beelined toward Tracy's selling space, but, unfortunately, the 1930s dresses she bought had yet to arrive from Canada. I have to wait a few more weeks. She was sorry not to have any items for me this time around, but I took it all as a positive sign; less money to spend especially if I'd find the Victrola Man. So I walked toward the back of the market (as I always do) to weave around the selling spaces until I reached the front. I walked past five rows before I heard classic jazz music playing not from some satellite radio, but from a gramophone. I turned to my left and there was Mr. Victrola Man. He had five gramophones for sale; three of them were Victrolas. I was relieved to have finally found him and even told him that I had been searching for him for three months. He smiled and said, "well here I am."

One Victrola was marked sold, but he had two others to choose from or I can take the cheaper, some other brand named gramophones. Nope, I wanted the real thing. So I forked over the cash and told him that I'd be back with a cart to roll it away (it's surprisingly heavy). He asked what type of music I wanted. I answered, "anything I can dance to. I'm a swing dancer." He gave me thirty 78s. We shook hands before I departed with my Victrola.

I already had a space cleared for my Victor Talking Machine and I was all too eager to begin playing it. As I was listening to a few 78s, I decided to research its age. I Googled the the model and seriel numbers and learned that it was originally manufactured in 1912. It is 101 years old. Imagine that. Who would have ever thought that back in 1912 as someone was purchasing this machine for their home, it would still be playing music in someone's living room in 2013. Amazing.

Below are images of my newest antique purchase and a sampling of its playing (Toot Toot Tootsie by Al Jolson). 

Enjoy.

Purchased 4/7/13 at Alameda Antique Faire

Definitely a great addition in my living room.