Oh poor Douglas Coupland...
For those of you who don't know him, he is one of Canada's most internationally acclaimed contemporary writers and artists, and there is currently a survey exhibition of his work at Vancouver Art Gallery. I was perplexed by his latest book, Worst. Person. Ever., and wanted to interview him, either for Vogoff or Bag - I know, it's not my usual thing but I was intrigued, and he lives in Vancouver. When I discovered I could only contact him through his New York agent, I dropped the idea. Until...
I was at one of my cafe haunts a week or so ago and suddenly there he was, seated at a table near the entrance (exit in this case), alone, maybe waiting for someone - me of course. I launched myself at him. He had no chance of escape. Poor man.
I was Dressed that day, of course, something you've never seen but terrifically '70s polyester (not what I'm wearing in these photos), and quiet Mr. Coupland was startled by my swift maneuvering into his space, looking as I did with my toolbox handbag and newly shaggified Warholian locks.
I blah, blah, blahed, asked to shake his hand, blah, blahed. He smiled shyly. And then I asked him if I could interview him sometime about his book. That's when his face shut down. "No, I don't do those," he firmly said. Ah.
After a little more blahing, I awkwardly, hurriedly gave him my card and released him from my psychic grip. He fled. So did I. Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Since I initiate conversations with strangers all the time, and they with me, I figured Mr. Coupland's celebrity shouldn't shield him from my advances any more than the next person, and what if he had said, Sure, why don't you join me for a clambake this afternoon? After all, the world is a freaky place.
These photos feature what I wore on Aug. 15, last Saturday (have I been away that long?), the thrifted vintage lounge attire I wore when Jean of Dross into Gold came to town, see here - except I am wearing my thrifted platform Steve Madden sandals instead of my shaggy green boots, tights, and man robe. I felt calm. So very calm. A benediction. A supplicant? I expected little birds to alight on my open palms mistaking me for a tree in the psychedelic forbidden garden.
And then below is a shot of me some days ago. I'm older since I last posted. I'm older every single nano-second of every single day. My computer is older, my home is older, my new stuff is older, my thoughts are older. The suction power of the Earth is non-negotiable. My fresh bread is staling even as I type. Which reminds me, I think I have some leftover potato chips...
I look slightly deranged, yes, but what of it? Both of those necklaces I found in the garbage room located off one of my favourite shooting locations, the garbage room atelier. The gown and earrings were thrifted. And I blurred out the background big time. I love this white hair!
Again, I'm not getting around much but I see some of you every day in my VOGOFF layouts. I'm going to link up to Patti and the gang at Visible Monday, just to let you know I'm still around. I hope you're all well!