flowers vignette

the flowers? brought by my cool boyfriend…to cheer up my kid & i, after a tough week or two.

how great is that.

the happenstancing part?

the mural on my wall Рtaken while shopping at the flea market by Tower Records in Soho (NYC) when i lived there. i think all 3 things are now defunct Рat the very least, i know the graffiti itself is gone; and so is Tower Records. years later, i decided it needed to be on my wall. it also has a nod to the handicapped off to the right; i&#39ll post a complete photo of it later.

the frame it&#39s in was a score from a Saks Fifth Avenue that was going out of business and selling its store fixtures.

the green vase was my dear artsy grandmother&#39s from the 60’s…(she is also no longer around, unfortunately) and the black pitcher &#39vase&#39 was found at an antique show…i cannot remember which city. i think it&#39s either danish, or japanese.

Mar 2013
AUTHOR Lizz DeLera

stylized, things, vintage

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life, in balance…

rastafarian soccer

Washington Square, NYC

how lucky i felt to be there at the exact moment this guy was balancing his soccer ball on his head…and he held it for a few seconds; because generally, i&#39m great at being in the right place at the right time; but not so great at reacting quickly enough with my camera when an action shot is involved. (it&#39s a good thing i&#39m an auteur of sorts, a chronicler of lifestyle – and not a sports photographer! i&#39d be broke, for sure.)

he reminded me of a proud Rastafarian lion, tossing around his mane, running through his domain and flexing his gleaming muscles in the sun while tossing around his prey – his soccer ball – in full command.

Mar 2013
AUTHOR Lizz DeLera

people, places

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baby got back…and front

fertility goddess

a vintage happenstancing episode…i came back to NYC to visit while living in Oz and happened upon Cybele, Goddess of Fertility in front of the Mimi Fritz Gallery in Soho. Last few times i&#39ve been to New York, i noticed that after having been there for years, she had disappeared into thin air! Apparently she went back to the artist Mihail Chemiakin&#39s place in upstate New York.

i&#39m sure we&#39ve all never seen the likes of such bountiful female prowess, all 16 breasts and 8 buttocks of her, lovingly reflected (not to mention duplicated! magnified, even!) in the glass behind her.

for some reason…this always reminds me of the story of Romulus and Remus and the Capitoline Wolf.

there goes my stream of consciousness… off the rails again.

fashion envy…

Lizz at Night Hotel

i so wish i was at Fashion Week in NYC right now…but alas, i&#39m not.

so instead, in the spirit of fashion and NYC – i&#39ll post this from my last trip there…sitting in the window of the Night Hotel…a fab little hotel by Vikram Chatwal that&#39s totally and exclusively
black & white.

and some photos of the interior, so you get the glam vibe.

check it out next time you&#39re there…


Night Hotel NYC

Night Hotel NYC


Feb 2013
AUTHOR Lizz DeLera

places, stylized

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power…of your own story

those who do not have power over the story that dominates their lives, power to retell it, rethink it, deconstruct it, joke about it, and change it as times change, truly are powerless, because they cannot think new thoughts.

-excerpt from Salman Rushdie

one day back in my NYC days…probably about 1989 or 1990…i sauntered out with a good
friend and coworker to lunch and to the bank. It was supposed to be a leisurely stroll in the neighborhood we loved. We worked in Soho, and rounded the corner on West Broadway…only to find an angry erupting crowd of militant Islamists lining the entire sides of the streets for as far as the eye could see. The fervor was high, the middle of the street seemed to be an invisible demilitarized zone – and quite frankly, it was downright scary. There was a new bounty on Salman Rushdie&#39s head for his novel The Satanic Verses...and in a city rich in the global literary¬†landscape, this was no joke.

My friend and I did not dare to cross the street into the fever pitch of hatred; the bank would have to wait. Lunch plans were deferred. Police were on hand to make sure violence did not ensue, but it was brimming over with tumult.

I have no hidden political agenda in this post; but ran across this quote in a museum over the weekend – and thought it was poignant in the context of commandeering your own story.

And, his memoirs might be a very interesting read, indeed.

Salman Rushdie memoir

Dec 2012
AUTHOR Lizz DeLera
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