good luck, Theo!

Heaps of get-through-it~ma and conquer-the-onerosity~ma to you, Theo.

And so, so much ~ma for this week, Suzi. That sounds purely rotten, every bit of it.

I had a completely random squee-inducing adventure with Matilda yesterday that I'm dying to reexperience with another Buffista - the next time the opportunity arises java or megan or juliana need to come, or maybe Plei or Jilli or msbelle or Holli should parachute in from out of town.

Driving to my usual weekly visit to my dad's house, I passed a sign in his neighborhood that I've been seeing randomly every few months for the last several years, announcing a vintage sale at an address I've never been to on a street I don't know. We had a bit of time before we needed to be at my dad's, so I decided, "What the hell, time to explore," and jogged off to the right to follow the sign.

Holy crap, that place was a VINTAGE WONDERLAND. This wee little storefront in a mostly residential neighborhood (maybe it used to be a drycleaner's or something, long ago), two stories high and with stuff spilling out onto the sidewalk, crammed to the gills with everything from $3 white cotton gloves to gauzy flapper gowns to a Suzy Perette polka-dot sundress in immaculate condition.

Boxes of sheet music. A first edition of Beezus and Ramona. Never-worn stiletto-heeled cowgirl boots with silver inlay. Mad Men era pegnoirs. Edwardian beaded purses. A 1950s Girl Scout cadette uniform with cap and badge-loaded sash. Men's ties, robes, dress shirts, and cummerbunds. Lacquered cigarette holders. Mint Lilli Ann suits. Belts, scarves, compacts, close to a hundred hats, coats, capes, capelets, shawls, shrugs, vintage patterns, hand-embroidered handkerchiefs.

Matilda and I found these, for three dollars.

It's only open every few weeks, whenever the owners feel like opening it, only on the weekends. The owners are either two or three old, old ladies who were clearly ferocious couture goddesses in their youth and are clearly still incredibly stylin'. When they feel like opening up, they put up the signs and send out a Batsignal to their email list and unlock the doors until they're ready to go home again; the rest of the time they go out thrifting and visiting estate sales and possibly sitting around in linen suits drinking tea with a dram of brandy. When I told them about Holli they got positively giddy with glee. And they made sure I signed up for the mailing list so I'd know ahead of time when next they return.

It's like Brigadoon for vintage nerds. So magical.

Wear purple, wear a red hat, WHATEVER. Now I know exactly what I want to do when I'm old.

Initial phone call of onerosity done, and I have an appointment for Thursday morning to pursue further.

Even with the lorazepam, I'm still feeling quite shaky.

Ugh, a panelist just used "opening up the kimono." UGH UGH UGH.

That sounds amazing, JZ!

God, I love places like that, JZ.

Now I'm going to have a sad every single week I drive in to see my dad and that sign *isn't* there.

JZ, that's so awesome. I love those Lili Ann suits you linked to.

Hang in there, Theo!

And shrift-- ARGH. And UGH. Please do notify someone that that's just icky and inappropriate language, especially in a field that works internationally and has lots of women staff (if not enough).

Wow, now I want to go, JZ!

Open the kimono makes me hurl. Ew. Sexist AND racist at the same time, whee intersectionality?

Well, Suela, you're local, and probably a four-minute jaunt down the freeway from this place - want I should ping you if I see the sign?

And you're intermittently local, meara, depending on where work sends you.

Ugh, shrift, that's creeptastic. Also, what meara said.