Again not the most productive of days, but I did succeed in restoring my usual level of… whatever the regular iteration of “overwhelm” is. Whelm? I still feel very tired, especially at this time of day, but I don’t feel so desperately incapable as I’ve been feeling since I got back from Ithaca. I plowed through a mountain of mail and an equal mountain of email (finally!), wrote my morning pages, cooked breakfast and dinner, saw to my plants, showered, began reading a new for-fun book (Ludwig Bemelmans’s When You Lunch with the Emperor — and yes, he’s the one who wrote Madeline), and attempted — without very satisfying results — a project I found on Design Sponge: covering file folders with fabric. For one thing, my spray glue is on its last legs; for another, I just don’t think fabric is the best medium for this project, though it looks very sweet from a distance when finished! I will try it again sometime with wallpaper, however. And I really need to either find my fabric shears or buy another set.
I also took an artist date this morning, which I hold responsible for all my restored spirits and powers of concentration. As an outing it wasn’t particularly memorable, but it was fun and I got to play tourist for a few hours, which I realized last night I had missed out on while I was in Ithaca because I was too obliged to be a grown-up, first to Al and second, to my parents. I went to Martinez and walked through the many antique shops downtown, including some that were giant collections of various dealers’ wares — similar to what we saw last summer in Cayucos — and saw some lovely and very reasonably priced things. At first I wasn’t even going to go into those huge houses, thinking them too overwhelming, but eventually my inner tourist won over my outer grown-up, and then I quite enjoyed myself. I saw really stunning giant armoires and a number of fabulous Art Deco vanities (I do love those, with their big rimless mirrors and curved edges), a great deal of wonderful colored and milky Pyrex and other dishware (including some dark-red hobnailed drinking glasses I almost bought, but decided against because they were small, and a 1930s Wedgwood coffeepot in a pagoda pattern that I would never find a use for in my entire life, but it was so sweet), some delightful train cases (I used to want one of these so desperately, back when I lived and died for makeup), too many books to look at, lots of jewelry but nothing I really wanted (and still not a ring to hold a candle to mine… wanted to cry over it again), a couple of really captivating old school desks, some very decent (as well as much very bad) art (including a technically good, but cheesy, painting of a naked girl which bore the tag: “Portrait of a lady – for sure”), vintage sewing patterns that were actually in my size (almost bought a skirt pattern for $2 but decided I wouldn’t use it anytime soon), and some clothing with which I amused myself for a good while. I found a 1940s grey suit for $45 (!) and would have bought it — the skirt actually fit comfortably but the jacket looked horrible, that’s a real first! — if it had flattered me. I also tried on an off-white heavy Macy’s coat with fur collar that made me look divinely well-to-do, but even if I hadn’t already placed a moratorium on the buying of any vintage coats save those that I will actually wear, I couldn’t afford it (in spite of decent pricing) and would not want to be seen wearing fur in any case. I tried on another two coats in lovely jewel colors that were not especially flattering. I think the balmaccan swing coat was a particularly bad idea for me, but it was such a wonderful lipstick pinky-red. Oh, and I saw some really nice drusy stones, but they were not set, and I’m not going to take up jewelry-making.
It’s a little bit less fun going antique shopping when I’m being responsible about not buying things I don’t need, but on the other hand, I feel better (if a trifle grimly) afterward.
In the last shop I struck up conversation with the owner? employee? whose name was Patty and who was very easy to talk to. Or she struck up conversation with me, or something. By this time I was hungry so I wasn’t entirely pleased she wanted to know about my art and how I got into it — and she doesn’t understand Mutts! — but it’s still nice to receive encouragement, isn’t it? She told me to come back after lunch and tell her what I’d eaten (I’d asked for recommendations) and whether I’d liked it, and I said I would, but even as I did so I knew I would not. And I did not. I was tired, hot, and done with shopping, and I didn’t want to be drawn into another conversation. So I had okay but not adequately seasoned donburi, read Bemelmans, bought cake (which has turned out to be, also, just adequate), and returned home, stopping at Trader Joe’s for some nice adult grocery shopping on the way.
I spent some time last night trying to analyze my listlessness and figure out the cure, and I didn’t quite make sense of it, though I grasped the situation well enough to understand that this artist date would fix things. And it did, but even after the fact, I still don’t quite know what it did for me that I needed. I’m not sure it would do it again, either. But I’m grateful it did work, and I’m grateful I did so much stuff afterward even if it wasn’t writing or art.
I don’t know why I’m using so many italics today!
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