Musical Theatre Collage

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collage, musical theatre

 

 

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War On The Line- June, 2014 (New Alresford)

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1940s, Hampshire, New Alresford, Re-Enactment, Retro, Second World War, War on the Line, Watercress Line

Photos copyright candiacomesclean.wordpress.com

Lucienne Day @ New Brewery Arts, Cirencester

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fabric designer, Fifties, Lucienne Day, New Brewery Arts, textiles

This gallery contains 9 photos.

Oxford Man Matches Milieu

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lilacs, Oxford, style

Photo copyright: candiacomesclean.wordpress

My Glamorous Collage

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collage, glamour

Victorian Lady

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pen and ink drawing, Victorian Fashion

You can bet your boots

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An Account of my Hut, choka, Fukuhara, Kamo no Chomei, Kyoto

Something so simple

as the capital changing

made everyone move,

except for the redundant.

Highly-prized estates

fell into rack and ruin.

Men were uncertain.

Suddenly they all shifted

right back to where they’d come from.

Well, Fukuhara

was found to be limiting.

You can bet your boots

old houses were not re-built

in terms of former grandeur.

Unique

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Genji, Kiyoshi Saito, Murasaki Shikibu, Oigimi, Sanjo princess

(Kiyoshi Saito; Maiko Kyoto.

JAOD)

 

Although you can wear

the same clothing as others,

everyone’s unique,

even if they’re related.

You can’t summon up

individual qualities.

The Sanjo princess

did not quite reach his standard,

whatever she was dressed in.

She wasn’t equal

to Oigimi after all,

but he could train her.

She had a fair bit to learn.

He hoped she would not shame him.

Protected Species

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beaver lamb, Bhutan, bling, capybara, clutch purse, Everest, globetrotter, Goa, Guatemala, La Giocanda, leopardskin, Noel Coward, non-U, orang-utan, shagreen, shibboleths, Sikkim, tortoiseshell, wolverine

Re-blog

 

I am reminded of my encounter with a grande dame who had experienced the days of the Raj first hand.  She measured out her widowhood in coffee spoons and cigarettes. 

One lunchtime – (cloth: on ; dinner : cloth off)- she sat in a cloud of smoke, like mist rising from the Ganges, and I admired her leopard skin coat.  She minimally acknowledged my obeisance.

A few evenings later, she was leaving a drinks party to which I also had been invited.

By way of something to say, I asked her where her fur coat was, as she was being solicitously wrapped in a stole by a favoured minion who was to see her safely across the road.  She gave me a withering look and corrected my social solecism, resulting in this poem:

 

 

Protected Species

 

He placed the mink stole round her neck –

not the fur coat she’d worn on deck.

She saw my look and then observed

the riposte which I had deserved:

“You don’t wear leopard after dark!”

“Never? Not even for a lark?”

“Precisely. It’s not the done thing.”

“What about ocelot?”

“Too bling.

It’s like cloth for luncheon, but NOT

for dinner? One just never ought.”

“Is there any jurisdiction

on camel? Any restriction

on beaver lamb, cashmere, fox-fur? –

shibboleths on which They concur? –

a consensus aimed at non-U?”

“The proles took to fake kangaroo.

In crepuscular hours of dusk,

outrageously they sported musk

and, as far as Guatemala,

riff-raff lounged in capybara.

Minxes out in the Sahara

had bikinis of impala.

One can pose as La Giocanda

in a thong of rare red panda,

but animal right protesters

wanted bobbies to arrest us.

They showed chagrin; I owned shagreen:

clutch purses, belts in wolverine,

tortoiseshell compacts – what’s the fuss?

Darling, they’re just not one of us.

In Sikkim some said, “That’s Betty.

She’s the one who’s wearing yeti”

I would sip a margarita,

naked, on a rug of cheetah.

(I was pretty well devoured

by a rampant Noel Coward.)

He quipped, ‘Little looks much snazzier

Than zebra pants and brassiere.’

In the mountains of Bhutan,

my tippet was orang-utan

and my favourite windcheater

was two hides of tanned anteater.

(At altitude on Everest,

one needs an extra tiger vest.)

At a barbecue in Goa,

I singed my flamingo boa.

To meet the Queen, I wore a hat

and had it trimmed with a fruit bat.

There was a tiny rigmarole

when footmen took my corgi stole.

She said archly, ‘Is that dodo?’

I checked my heel: ‘Madam, no, no.

I’m sure your carpets are quite clean.’

She glared: ‘Your headgear’s what we mean.’

Though denied my decoration,

I still caused a huge sensation.

I’m a seasoned old globetrotter.

I wear stoat and I wear otter,

I’ve worn porpoise, whale and shark –

But NEVER leopard after dark.”

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A Head Start

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British Library, Harley MS, La Carolle in the Garden, Roman de la Rose

(3L Harley MS 4425, British Library.  Wikimedia Commons.

The Carolle in the Garden: Roman de la Rose; Master of the

Prayerbooks)

 

Yes, if you

want to get ahead,

wear a hat.