Like many children, I grew up reading Shel Silverstein. Before I could even read, my mom would read me his poems and stories. I still have a dilapidated copy of A Light in the Attic and Lafcadio, the Lion who Shot Back, from when I was a child. When I was about eight years old and very into skateboarding, my first real deck had a picture of The Giving Tree on it. It was my favorite story, and despite the controversy on whether or not it is an appropriate story, it guts me to this day. 

Shel Silverstein was a misunderstood soul. I think that is what drove me to write about him. Even as a child, I recognized Shel's ability to relate to kids in a way most adults couldn't. I'm not trying to paint him as this soft, gentle, all-loving kind of person; he wasn't Mr. Rogers. Shel was just a normal man born in the 1930s during the Great Depression to immigrant parents. He served in Korea and became jaded and illustrated for Playboy. He was friends with Norman Mailer (not happy about that, but I digress) and Bob Dylan and Emmylou Harris and Johnny Cash, penning several of their most popular songs. He was the quintessential 70s writer-man, complete with a long beard and corduroy pants.


And yet - there is something that impresses me so about Shel's ability to write such gentle, silly, simple yet profound stories for children, and still adhere to this stereotype of the rugged counter-culture Writer-Man. In fact, it gives me hope because it shows that you don't have to be Mr. Rogers (bless his soul) to be gentle and kind. It proves that being a man and being empathetic are not mutually exclusive. That humans, like anything else, are multi-faceted beings that all have the ability to be tender if we try. 

Neil Gaiman's lecture transcribed by The Guardian in 2013 (extremely worth reading - I highly recommend it) has to be one of my favorite things ever written about the importance of introducing children to fiction at a young age.

"...And the second thing fiction does is to build empathy. When you watch TV or see a film, you are looking at things happening to other people. Prose fiction is something you build up from 26 letters and a handful of punctuation marks, and you, and you alone, using your imagination, create a world and people it and look out through other eyes. You get to feel things, visit places and worlds you would never otherwise know. You learn that everyone else out there is a me, as well. You’re being someone else, and when you return to your own world, you’re going to be slightly changed."

Shel Silverstein did this for me when I was young, and ultimately became my "gateway drug", as Neil Gaiman phrased it, to other fiction. I was lucky enough to have very kind, gentle, and progressive parents as a child, but Shel's poems and stories helped me realize that all humans have this inherent capacity for tenderness. Shel wrote about a broad range of humans (and non-humans) much different from himself, from Good Little Grace to Terrible Theresa. To Lafcadio, the lion who loved marshmallows and learned to use a gun and shoot back at hunters. He wrote about children riddled with anxiety before going to sleep, a feeling we can probably all relate to. He was able to imagine lives other than his own, something many of us have difficulty doing. 

Shel Silverstein Taught Me to be a Good Person



Shaina Mote is a brand I have been admiring and following for years. I first discovered her while working at the vintage boutique Passenger when I was in college - it was there that I fell hard for her romantic yet minimal designs. 

Oddly enough, her studio is located right next to where I live now. I had the pleasure of attending her sample sale last week and I was lucky enough to score a few items for my own wardrobe. Despite how fortunate I was at the sample sale, I am still coveting every piece from SS19. The overall simplicity of the lookbook's production proves how far good design will take you. I can't get enough.


"...a study in carefree elegance, Mediterranean modernism, and a Riviera palette."
















 


Shaina Mote SS19



Another series I would like to introduce to Poesia Journal is The Art of Dress, where I will regularly feature brands I admire and how I live with and integrate them into my every day.

Despite how much I love clothes, getting dressed has always filled me with a sense of dread. The task of finding the correct outfit that suits both the weather and whatever occasion I am entering the public world for has always managed to overwhelm me. It can become frustrating because getting dressed should be an enjoyable experience. After all, it is an art like anything else; the things we adorn ourselves with becoming signifiers of our personality, experiences, and tastes. Recently, the fuss of it all has started to get to me, and I will end up leaving the house looking disheveled in a not-so-chic way that is ultimately the result of my flustered, frazzled approach to getting dressed in the morning.



Living in Los Angeles has added an extra layer of anxiety when it comes to dressing because the weather can be so finicky. I am freezing most mornings and so naturally I reach for sweaters and knits but come lunchtime when the sun reaches its highest point in the sky, I am boiling. For me, layers have become essential to dressing comfortably for the inter-season confusion of Southern California.

I am a routine person and I find comfort in knowing what comes next; but applying that logic to dressing can take so much of the beauty and personality out of it. I would prefer to use the word ritual when thinking about getting dressed, acknowledging the act as something significant and sacred. I don't want to rush through my mornings in a frenzy because I can't figure out what to wear - I want to savor those mornings and utilize them to their fullest capacity. This does not mean I want to adopt a strictly utilitarian wardrobe or uniform; it means I want more out of the things I already have. Done right, the versatility and reliability of basics make dressing easier while also granting you creative freedom. The best of both worlds. 











Recently, I was introduced to the brand Brass Clothing, a basics line designed for and by women with the mission of building a more cohesive wardrobe. They just released a collection called The Layers, featuring a baby tee and turtleneck made out of the most beautiful pima cotton and wool blend. The silhouettes are simple, chic, and versatile  the perfect balance.

These two pieces by Brass have seamlessly become a part of my wardrobe throughout the past few weeks, and I have enjoyed pairing them with everything from skirts and jeans to layering under coats and sweaters. They have successfully made dressing in the morning significantly easier without sacrificing style, and I look forward to getting dressed with them in the coming winter months. 

All photos by Ed Mumford.

The Art of Dress Vol. 1: Brass Clothing




Pina Bausch, 1966Photography by Walter Vogel


I watched Luca Guadagnino's remake of the 1977 horror/fantasy film Suspiria and to spare you from me gushing over minute details of the film, I'll give you the verdict: I loved it. It reminded me so much of all of my favorite Rainer Werner Fassbinder films (the red text used for the subtitles reminiscent of The Marriage of Maria Braun) and also of Mother!, Aronofsky's equally polarizing film. All I have to say is this: if you love beauty, terror, horror, and modern dance, you must see this film. Guadagnino's take on this horror classic is stunning, and the score and cinematic homages are enough to impress any cinema buff.

While watching, I couldn't help but notice a similar influence in the choreography of Madame Blanc's (Tilda Swinton) "Volk". Swinton herself seems to be based on a very Pina Bausch-esque character, and there is no question of Bausch's influence on the artful, powerful, and terrifying modern dance seen throughout the film. Swinton, pictured below, is seen elegantly swathed in simple fabrics and open silhouettes reminiscent of Yohji Yamamoto's collection inspired by Pina Bausch herself. This coupled with the sleek pony and cigarette, there's no denying that Pina was the inspiration for Guadagnino's terrifyingly chic reimagination of Madame Blanc.
















Pina Bausch was a visionary, inspiring both clothing designers and directors alike. Her provocative choreography and stage presence was unparalleled, making her a true pioneer in the world of modern dance. It makes sense that a director such as Luca Guadagnino would choose her to be the inspiration for the both the choreography and one of the most important roles of the film. Guadagnino was not the first director to be won over by the late Pina Bausch's charms, however. According to an interview in December of 2011, Wim Wenders was convinced against his will by his girlfriend to go see a retrospective of Bausch's company, Tanztheater Wuppertal, in Venice. He was immediately entranced, claiming that it "changed his life". Shortly after Bausch's passing in 2009, Wenders made the film Pina, released in 2011. It is a stunning film that celebrates Bausch's beauty, strength, curiosity, and innovation within the world of modern dance through the lens of other artists working within the field.



Still from Pina (2011) dir. Wim Wenders


Pina is available to rent here 

Pina Bausch's Influence

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