The Museum of Modern Art Has Some Pretty Good Stuff, I Guess.

Yesterday after a brief mishap, I found myself without task and decided to take myself to one of my favorite places in all of New York City:

The Museum of Modern Art.

I have to confess that while I am a member,

I don't nearly visit it as often as I should.

I also must admit that when I was considering joining 50% of my rationale was based on the assurance that if someone ever stole my wallet, they would at least have a physical explanation for why I was so broke.

"Sorry you went through all that work for $7.68, an Associated Wholesale coupon and an out-of-date business card," it would smile up and say.

The other 50% being that I had internally convinced myself membership might be some sort of carte blanche to adopt an affectation similar to that of Diane Keaton in Woody Allen's Manhattan.

"Yes. To me it was very textural. You know what I mean? It was perfectly integrated, and it had a marvelous kind of negative capability. But the rest of the stuff downstairs was bullshit," I would say at fancy parties, secretly nailing the line with total confidence over passed salmon puffs.

Everyone loves a snotty conversation.

But instead, here I have sat for nearly a year only having set foot over the threshold twice.

The second time being today at 2pm.

I roamed around the halls and made a point to visit

every. single. floor.

The Midwestern in me wanted to get his money's worth.

First of all, there was some bullshit exhibit with tupperware behind the glass.

Then some totally crazy person has spilled house paint in his garage onto a tarp and his mom has somehow gotten these people to hang it up.

Lastly, I'm guessing a Brillo pad box got left behind by the 4th floor janitor and people have started taking pictures of it?

I have no idea.

Jk.

It was all gorgeous and I loved every drop.

Which brings me to my point:

This is some crazy amazing shit up in there!

We're going to keep this short, because I know some people have a light stomach for modern art.

But here is what I enjoyed:

First, I popped into the exhibit Counter Space: Design and the Modern Kitchen.

I have wanted to go to this for months.

This is Japanese shokuhin sanpuru.

I had never heard of this either, but perhaps I might have

 if I were allowed back into the country.

Apparently there are plastic examples in most restaurants of dishes they serve, and these pieces have become an industry in themselves.

おいしそう！

I love the utensils used by the phantom diners.

Next were these 1930s Lausitzer Glaswerk storage containers.

Totally hunting up a set of those!

How cute will last night's spaetzle look?

* * *

Which got me to thinking that I needed to hunt up some functional pieces for outside the kitchen...

This turn-of-the-century Peter Behrens fan has me all hot.

And DEGMS on Mario Bellini's Pop Automatic Record Player.

I also might call you more if I could do it on this bakelite Bauhaus telephone.

* * *

Once I could peel myself up from the floor, I went to the painting and drawing rooms to see if there were any cuties to peep on.

, none to be found.

I did however spy this Chirico, entitled The Song of Love.

...and this Richard Lippold called The Four Seasons.

Here is a detail.

...and isn't Louise Bourgeois's handwriting cute?

 After wandering around for an hour or so, I finally

decided it was time to head home.

But I knew I should use the bathroom before I left.

Gurl.  They are giving you full Willi Ninja runway.

The guard snickered at me when he saw me snap this photo, because I think he thought I was a confused tourist.

* * *

It was not until I was nearly out of the exhibition space when I happened to notice something that I had completely missed on the way in.

This installation is just past the entrance, looking out onto the Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Sculpture Garden, and is an introduction to an exhibit called On Line: Drawing Through the Twentieth Century.

Those crazy things you see dancing in the air are strips of magnetic tape, similar to what you might have found in an old VHS.

It is by an artist named Zelvinas Kempinas.

It closes next Monday.

Go see it.

...and should you disagree that this is art, please feel free to set one at up home.


I'll be over tomorrow to have a look.

xx

J'Adornment: Valentine's Day Collecting

Today marks the first day of February.

It also marks just fourteen days for all you retards in relationships lovers to get yourselves to the store.

Since I don't have a boyfriend to show off

and

I know I won't be getting any chocolates,

here are some things I own that you don't.

We'll start with my favorite category:

Valentine's Day appropriate fashion.

After that we'll  briefly cover Valentine's Day

appropriate tabletop.

Try not to get too jelly, and I might let you borrow something.

* * *

FASHION

* * *

This here is an early plastic brooch, and the only

heart I ever dare be caught with on my sleeve.

I love the classic motif and bright cherry red color.

I suspect it is from the 1930s, but if you're

that f*ing interested in dating it

why don't you give it a call?

* * *

Up next is an oversized, vintage, round-cut

rhinestone cocktail ring.

While it isn't real diamond, it really doesn't matter.

That stone is a perfect inch across, and I'm certain that it was set before 1950.

Won't it totally make all those bitches at the Four Seasons

gag on their violet cotton candy when I roll up for my VD lunch?

Pinkies up, ladies!

* * *

This gorgie piece is from my everyday collection.

It is a polished onyx oval brooch set in solid sterling.

Onyx is widely valued for its powers of protection, so I always make sure to wear it to sports bars and church.

While I'm sure it's quite late in the game (1970s, 80s?), I like to pretend I snatched it from a Navajo child along the Long Walk.

It looks great worn on the top button of a collared shirt.

* * *

This contemporary simple pendant

is by Shane Powers

and was given to me by my friend Liz.

She said she bought it for me for Christmas,

but I think she may have actually taken it out of his purse.

Either way, I own it now.

It is an impression into a material meant to emulate basalt

and made from his signet ring...

which I'm sure she also stole, but kept for herself.

Bitch.

* * *

This "necklace" actually *was* ripped off a Native.

I bought it at last May's Brimfield Antiques Show without knowing a drop about it.

A few months later I was looking for Tibetan tiger rugs

at

Jacques Carcanagues Gallery

when I spied a similar "necklace" in their jewelry case.

My friend Yvonne said that it is actually a belt (!) and was worn by the Naga people to help keep their panties up.

The Naga, as you may know, were a tribe in Northeast India infamous for their headhunting practices.

I suppose it may be gauche to wear this to the grocery store to pick up some Dove chocolates, but I'm probably going to do it anyway.

* * *

Since I like to pretend that I am a decorator, this scarf helps keep up that ruse.

It is silk, made by Vera Neumann, and features silhouettes of classic American Colonial furniture.

Genius.

I nearly beat some teenager to death yanking it from her hands in the middle of Cheap Thrills Vintage in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

I am tempted to have it framed, since it can't fit around my fat neck.

* * *

Last up for VD Fashion is the *ultimate* Victorian accessory.

The acorn was carried during this time as symbol of fertility, meant to increase longevity and sustain youth.

Acorn charms have also been believed to ward off illness.

But this little sterling beauty has another secret. 

This piece is actually called a vinaigrette and would have dangled from the end of a chain, either around the neck or finger.

The cavity would have contained a sponge soaked in fragrance.

Because cities lacked modern sanitation conveniences and hygiene was held to a different standard, a Victorian lady would have worn this to politely bring to her nose when she encountered an unpleasant smell along her route.

I have filled mine with Santa Maria Novella's classic pot-pourri

and wear it when I have to be around anyone who might own Birkenstock sandals.

* * *

TABLETOP

* * *

This is just a bitchy cocktail swizzle I found

digging around in Historic Roswell Antique Market.

Instead of throwing your VD martini into your date's face

after he doesn't bother to compliment your new weave,

I suggest jabbing him in the eyes with something similar to this.

It only cost a quarter and is pretty f*ing cute.

* * *

It is fun to eat fancy expensive things.

But it is even MORE fun to eat fancy, expensive things decanted

into rare fancy, expensive objects.

This is my 19th century English ironstone caviar pot.

It did *not* cost a quarter.

And no, you can't have any caviar, but I can make you a Bumblebee tuna salad sandwich if you're hungry.

* * *

CB2 sold these when they first came to New York.

It is a contemporary appetizer dish from a classic Andy Warhol print.

Don't tell anyone where it's from though, because CB2 is now for girls who think that it is the height of modern design, go out in the Meatpacking District, and still wear Tory Burch flats.

* * *

Lastly, look at this beautiful pink splatter lustreware saucer.

I plan to throw a Chloë Sevigny-inspired (@ 0:32) 

VD tattletale tea starring:

every piece of this that I own, all of my cute single friends, and copious amounts of scotch.

We'll be bitching about you.

VD Kisses -