I attended the party for the new line of jewelry at Dream Collective in Silverlake and was stunned at how much the shop had changed since the Kuu Collections party. I honestly couldn't have imagined it being any more beautiful than it already was, but the new plants, arrangements, items, and the freshest line of jewelry proved me otherwise. California Pottery is the name of Kathryn Bentley's new collection, which not only comes in brass but also sterling silver. The opening party was a great success, thanks to the likes of Pharmacie LA (and their beautiful acai cocktails), Lauren Spencer King who featured a new print of hers, Ramsey Conder, who makes gorgeous cast cactus miniatures, as well as the cool people who manage to make Dream Collective such a great shop to visit in the area.
Just moved to a new apartment. I like to keep things minimal. I don't have a couch, or a bed frame or a credenza in my place, and feel more comfortable closer to the ground. I live in a way I've come to call "opulently minimal" which roughly translates as: a state of happiness, cleanliness, pride and little effort. If my house caught fire there would be a few things I'd really miss, but would probably not mourn any one thing permanently. My theory on objects, whether purchased or found, is this: if you love it, get it, treat it well. If you don't love it, don't take up space with it. I end up finding a lot of the things I have in my living space, some I keep for a short while, some forever. Others are given to me. Others I buy. Not because they are a wild bargain, or because I find them to be a tool to impress, but because I love them.
Here is a short visual collection of things that I love.
All photos by Bridgitte Sire
The framed piece of cloth is from a pillow I found outside in Echo Park. I cut it off and framed it as a daily reminder. It reads "Much love to your heart" in Portuguese. The little Kali is from my friends mother, also a good reminder. I got the incense burner in India, though the same one can be found at any World Market. Usually with a little Made In India sticker on it.
This top used to be a black t-shirt which I got while working on my first on-set job in LA for Fred Water. I cut it into a tank one day when I found that my other black tank top was dirty. The shorts I got in Iowa when they were pants. After a lot of wear and tear, I finally cut the legs off and hemmed them.
West African elephant grass hat. Dress by Lifetime which I picked up at Poketo, and sandals by Carrie Forbes, currently my favorite thing. The little table was found at the Rose Bowl for a remarkable $6. It's propped up by wooden fish, and the top has a mirrored 2D design. My fig is from Ikea, as is the planter. Both make me happy.
Blouse by En Soie, a family business of clothing and home goods from Switzerland. Pillowcase by Gravel + Gold. The blouse reads "The description of the color is impossible!" which is a quote from the companies founder. He meant this to say that you can't simply talk about a color, but you must wear it and experience it. I love this personal touch. The poster on the wall was a fold-out from Brownbook; an incredible magazine which you could call the Monocle of the Middle East. It shows three men on horseback. The alternate side is a map of North Africa.
The three elephants were acquired from a floral shop in Los Angeles that painted them white for wedding props. They once were stacked on each other like circus elephants, and were going to be thrown away. The face planter is by Helen Levi, and the ceramic mug was found at a yard sale. My little Ganesh is from a friend in Boulder Colorado, and Frida was found at the MOLAA after seeing her photography exhibit.
This sweater was one of the first pieces of clothing I bought when I moved to LA. It was January, and slightly chilly downtown. Mickey's "rock paper scissors" game seemed all but too fitting in a place like Los Angeles. I got it for next to nothing since the salesman said that there was a design malfunction. I've yet to find it.
Jewelry by Dream Collective. Bleached chambray from the flea. It originally had smaller holes, but I've worn it so much that it's progressed in its deterioration. Not entirely a bad thing.
This was written by my friend Jimmy. We were out at dinner having a discussion about life, which I was a bit frustrated with at the time. He asked for a pen, and wrote this down on a napkin. "I'm gonna frame this," I said. The little ring is from Esteban Chimpf. It's a 100 Year Anniversary LA Dodgers ring. I wear it often.
This is Luna. She came into my life during a rough time (first year in Los Angeles) and has been such a strength to have around me. I don't think of her as something that I own. We more belong to each other.
My staple silk sailor robe from the Silverlake farmers market. There's a small stitched ship on the breast pocket, along with two side pockets. Usually when I go home now, I get rid of whatever I'm wearing and exchange it for my robe. I'm wearing it right this very moment.
Light in my eyes. Good light in my home is paramount. I've never been one for caves.
Art by Teds Draws. I've been a Sade fan for a very long time, not entirely understanding why when I was younger. Later I realized that it was her elegance that caught me more than anything. I admire her so much, and love the message of this print. The red cat creature is named Bitsy - counterpart to a blue one named Doofy who was lost some years back. This was a gift that a friend brought to me from China. The skunk is from Mexico.
I found these pants on the street. Now I smell roses in them.
Denim overthing from Goodwill.
My tattoos are sacred to me. The majority of them were born from unstoppable doodling in college, particularly during Mesoamerican History and Quantum Physics.
If you are lacking in magic, I greatly advise beginning with the process of elimination. Then perhaps try buying less in general. If you find that something has no magic, it's much easier to let go of. Then suddenly room is made for the stuff that glows. Before you know it, you'll have a home full of You, no matter how much or little stuff is there.