The Fashion World has roared: “Prints are in.”

I was bold in junior high.  I wore various printed tops to class: bright beetles and satin comic-strips.  It got attention.

The chutzpah slipped away in high school, and ultimately disappeared in college.  The mantra on campus was look like everyone else.

Spring 2011 Fashion is not my motivating factor.   {Enter red-head and The Magic School Bus.}

Ms. Frizzle.  The teacher’s fancy frocks remind me of true glamour.

Where does Ms. Frizz shop?  Does she design her own clothing line?  Is she on  Is her first name Fran? Lots. of. questions.

Despite my fictitious admiration for the scientist, I do realize she does not exist. But I do believe that many crafty women carry little pieces of Ms. Frizz’s splendor and philosophy as they roam the streets.

Let the Frizzle wild.  Rock the rhinos.


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Love my paisley 'brella from my dad. He pegged my style.

We should start an umbrellution.  Pitch your bleak and broken, eye-threatening umbrellas and invest a lil’ love in a vibrant ‘brella with some tang. Transform the sidewalk into a crusty canvas.

Brighten the canopy.  Play in puddles.  Prance around the park.  You get the idea.

Sounds like bliss. How do we do it?

Let the wise Spokes speak.

Spoke One: Spread the flare via gift-giving. The average person would rather purchase 2 Blue Moons before ever swiping the AMEX for our dear ‘brella.

But a gift.  A gift is special.  The recipient may seem indifferent towards the umbrella, but deep down they know they are part of a bigger plan – the ‘lution.

Spoke Two: Well spoken.    … overkill??

Support other ‘brella folk with a simple head-nod.  A smile, perhaps.  If you’re really feeling bold, compliment the most dazzling design of the day.  We’re encouraging excellence here.

Spoke Three is unavailable due to assault and battery charges of a pedestrian.  Both parties involved did not exercise Umbrella Etiquette, unfortunately.

If you have a quirky umbrella photo, please send for a post!

A gift for my mom  (Credit: Pylones-USA)

A gift for my mom (Credit: Pylones-USA)

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I present a self-portrait and story from Kristen Lamb.

“So, your first response might be ‘Aw, poor Kristen with her low self-esteem’ BUT there is a story…


drawing & story by Kristen Lamb

A few months ago I was on a mostly empty subway car.  A non-homeless, college-aged fellow got on and proceeded to draw caricatures of other people on the train (one between each stop) and would then give it to the person and draw someone else.  I’d watched him do this three times, and each time he moved and sat directly across from the person.  I waited in anticipation!

THEN he moved across from me!  ME!  I tried to be coy and read my book and pretend I didn’t notice, but I kept looking at him and probably looked uncomfortable and awkward, yet excited!  My stop was next, but as I went to get off…. he didn’t give me the drawing!  I was a bit heartbroken and sad.  I feared that he’d drawn a mean scary caricature of my awkward, crazy ‘someone’s watching me on the subway’ face.  Thus, my caricature.”

Thanks for the amazing drawing and story, Kristen!  Hopefully, I’ll meet the same artist on the subway at some point, and I promise, I’ll act just as awkward.  It’s a natural gift of mine.

I’m collecting doodles, drawings, sketches, finger paintings, etc. and stories so please send my way.

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In mathematics, my nose equals the uniqueness quantification. There is one and only one. That’s why I like schnozzles.  Unless you’re Heidi from the Hills, your button is probably pretty rare.  Do let your nose speak its own language.  Don’t pick or prod … in public.


drawing & story by Kira Zmuda

Moving beyond the world of beaks, I fancy a few other elements in life: imperfections, laughing, and playing with messy art supplies.  Really messy.  Combining all three is absolutely sublime.

Next time you complain about your frog legs, jiggly arms, frizzy mane, or big bootay, break out some crayons!  Take a few minutes out of your busy schedule (translation: 5 less minutes on Facebook), and create your own caricature.  Be brutal.  And be your best friend.

We all have an image of ourselves that we carry around.  It doesn’t mean it’s true.  I like to think that I have long mermaid waves.  Do I?  Sure, when I fry the hell out of my hair with my crimper on a rare occasion – like Cinco de Mayo.

I do not wear exotic flowers in my hair as I prance around the city, but I have always wanted to rock that look.  I’m searching for the right flower for my debut.

The curve of my mermaid hips erases all rigidness from my path.  Inflexibility – clear the way, fool.

Damn chicken legs.  I’ve been around them for a while so we’re no longer foes.  We’ve joined together amicably.  Sometimes, when I look in the mirror, I see the splitting image of a rooster – minus the wattle.  I’ll have that one day too.

Doodle.  Draw.  Paint.  Play with mud.  Create yourself.  Good and bad.  Embellished, grotesque, minimal, flamboyant, etc.  If you can’t laugh about yourself, then what the hell is wrong with you? (kindly asked)

I’ll post any of your lovely art.  I’d love to share so please send.

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It’s raining.  An aggressive pedestrian approaches you head-on.  Her/his height is within two inches of your own.  A collision is inevitable.

Tilt.  30 Degrees.  No more, No less.  If the dance motion is reciprocated on both ends, beauty will follow.  It’s magic in umbrellic form.

If it isn’t reciprocated, you still may avoid danger. And you may also feel like an idiot.

Tilt is the word.

Spread it to friends and foes.

What are your rules of Umbrella Etiquette?

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week1I’ve picked up speed.  I may be a mellow yellow Pisces, and I certainly never exhibit road rage, but when it comes to walking, I’m aggressive.

On average, I can whiz past 3 pedestrians per city block. In heels. Sporty heels. And I always pass on the left. Cutting-off is prohibited.

Adaptation is my new focus this month.

A scarecrow zoomed past me yesterday wearing some swanky sneakers. I couldn’t keep up with him. But it won’t happen again – I’ll trot if need be. I sound like a horse anyway. It’s the good ol’ competitive runner in me. That stuff just doesn’t fade easily.

I want it all. In the simplest form.

And I can have heels, height, and a hustle.

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Day 28 was a boisterous one – filled with my magical birthday boots (below), bubble blowing, bacon beer, and my new favorite spot: Barcade in Williamsburg, NYC. Who wouldn’t want to spend a day playing Gauntlet, Super Mario Bros, Frogger, and Tetris while burning through some high caliber Coney Island amber beer?


I’ve almost graduated from my month long high-heel challenge, but for some reason, even on day 28, I did not feel close to the finale. Perhaps summer school is needed before I toss the graduation cap in the air and receive my stiletto.

I’ll be honest, I might need more time in this challenge because I cheated a little. It was a dark day in February. It snowed. My feet found their way into sneakers. It didn’t mean anything, I swear. Thankfully, my roommate called me out on my bad behavior, and I took off the running shoes immediately.

I suggest that you get a friend, foe, or family member to be your bully during the challenge. It helps. Believe me.

But it’s spring now, and my excuses are finito. I’ve grown surprisingly comfortable wearing any heel up to 2″ which is a huge improvement. Once I get above the 2″ mark, I’m still a bit skiddish.  I’ve completely worn out a few of my reliable work heels.  You can do a lot of damage in 28 days!

Let me be frank. I’m still figuring out what I want to accomplish with these extra inches. I don’t know exactly what I want to feel, but I’ve felt really comfortable recently – it’s odd how the confidence level seems to rise with the foot pain. I’m slightly concerned about long-term damage to my feet. For now, I’m okay. This show will continue.

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