Sweet treats for the literary, the musical, the feminine, and the generally filthy.

Thursday, October 29, 2009

To Get Into It

Bless me, Blogger, for I have sinned: it has been a year since my last post.

The original Tunes Digger posts can be found at: www.digtunes.blogspot.com. It's connected to my college email, and I don't remember the password, so I provide this for the hardest of core followers.

In those posts is a pretty outlined backstory for my interest in music, but I'd like to take this opportunity, with my brand new web address, to extend my blogging to my other competing passions, specifically my interests in literature and fashion. So a brief history of these:

Literature is my first love, old flame, bottom bitch. I picked it up reasonably fast, reading everything I could get my hands on (including a confusing bout with Great Expectations when I was ten). I became obsessed with stories, and started out my own literary career copying my favorite books word for word into Word, which I did surreptitiously, worried that I would be caught and called a copy-cat. It wasn't until college that I learned this was a fairly common method, used by the likes of T.S. Elliot and Jon Steinbeck, to infuse the mind with a favorite author's rhythm, cadence, and word choice. Flattery through imitation and a splendid writing exercise besides. I wrote short stories in my diaries and notebooks, typed them up later and even kept some of them. I wrote horrible poetry for my family and friends, to communicate love, silliness, secret messages, and threats. I wrote satirical songs for creative projects in classes throughout elementary and middle school (a sixth grade recording of my friend Molly and I singing a jingle for the sale of Egyptian plebians satisfied my Social Studies final project requirement). In high school, I became obsessed with rock and roll and so wrote my own self-involved pubescent whimperings that earned me quite a torrid reputation in English classes and amongst my peers. I also wrote some of the worst poetry of my career, accompanied by illustrations and pen-gouging angst on the page. It wasn't long before I mostly gave up on composing poetry. I wrote some short stories that found their way into the creative writing magazine, and I took Journalism to learn the art of word economy. Essays were my guilty pleasure, and I discovered my penchant for last-minute brilliance. I joined the school newspaper, first contributing as scathing social observer, then in my own rant column, On the Converse, which caused enough waves to warrant a few talkings-to from my editor until I took her job and wrote--better--about whatever I wanted to. I majored in English with a minor in Creative Writing at Washington College in Chestertown, Md., and discovered quickly that I seldom get along with other writers, but I'm inspired by other musicians (I've played classical and jazz piano on and off throughout my life). I studied the Renaissance, the Romantics, the Modernists and Post-Modernists, with emphasis on James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, Kurt Vonnegut and John Barth. In the winter of 2007, I wrote the SFD (Shitty First Draft) of my novel, which is concerned with a mother and daughter dealing with hippies, hardcore and cicadas. Draft 2 is a work in progress.

Though I tried to deny my interest in fashion throughout high school and college, (with the sense that to care about it so much would put me in the same category as my suburban peers and their slavish adherence to pop fads and status symbols), I realize now that fashion is just one more opportunity for artistic expression. I spent a lot of time with Barbies throughout my childhood. Maybe too much. I had a bunch of hand-me-downs, even a Ken doll from the 1960s who always looked to me like the picture of Brian Wilson on the cover of Pet Sounds. I dressed them up crazy and fabulous and DIY sexy and then involved them in soap opera situations, bouncing their feet across the flame-like red and orange shag carpet of my parents' basement. My Barbies were actors sometimes, dressed like the characters I saw in movies, reenacting the plots of my favorite books, models other times, propped against homemade backdrops and posing for my camera. Dress-up was my favorite real-life game, and Old Times was my favorite setting. Every day when I got home from kindergarden, I donned a red cap with veil that might have belonged to my grandmother in the forties, and acted out my own music videos in front of my mirror to the tune of Marlo Thomas' "Free To Be!" I went through a series of reinventions in my personal style. Classic Juliana throughout childhood was saddle shoes, clean white socks or tights, a skirt or dress, and my hair held back with fluffy bows.


Middle school was all about smiley faces and bubblegum pop, edging into the realm of the sexy when I discovered Express in eighth grade. But the reaction this look earned me I think scared me enough that I ran in the opposite direction in high school, opting for an odd Sk8ter Boy look consisting of hoodies, enormous boy pants, skateboard company T-shirt, and Vans. This look gave way to hyper-hippie, in which I demanded every element of my wardrobe remind me of nature and mythology.
This look was inspired by the music I was listening to, specifically Pink Floyd, the Grateful Dead, and Janis Joplin.

It in turn inspired me to start creating my own jewelry, which I made a small profit selling to my peers. I carried this throughout college, stopping only now and then to be a rocker chick in ripped jeans and band shirts. I began to tune down the puffy shirts and bell-bottoms as I edged closer to graduation. Then, last winter, I became enamored of one very fashionable lady:
I adopted the black tights, striped tops, and long earrings look of Andy Warhol's "muse" as I got my feet wet and hands dirty living in the city, ditching a good portion of my hippie chic and not-so-chic wardrobe in favor of more fitted clothes. As I gradually learned the meaning of "hipster," I discovered a whole new world of 21st century music, which guided me towards what I guess is considered "hipster chic," skinny jeans, knitted berets and drape T's with flats or boots. What I dig most about this arena of fashion is its nod to mod and the classic, often masculine fashions of the 1940s and '50s. I love the idea of pairing looks that pair fashions befitting the Velvet Underground with a Marlene Dietrich elegance, that attitude that embraces adolescent hedonism, little girl charm and womanly poise. The contradictory blends of all aesthetically appealing elements seem to encompass that most contradictory of all natures, the feminine.


I am always reading magazines, blogs, and watching the shops and streets for tasty treats and enviable ensembles--thanks to a few very tuned-in friends, I have a more appreciative attitude for names, times, and places. How cool is it to find a pair of rust-red, knee-high perfect condition Bandolino boots in a Portland thrift store for $16?? Tiny joys are a joy nonetheless. And I do admit that my knowledge, while thirsty, is tiny and ever-expanding. This blog is a way for me to digest and generally geek-out on my favorite new bands, new and old styles, and the people who are behind them all. Not to mention the opportunity to let out the clambering madwoman that is my creative streak, and let her steep in a little self-indulgent prattling.