The Mayor Reunited with an Old Friend

Cleaning the enclosed bookcases, I discovered a good friend...

My Barbie

As a parent, I have observed that “age-appropriate” is a relative term; that is, relatives decide when a child gets a toy. The relative may be mom or dad, even grandparent, but especially the child herself. Yet for me, in the 1960s, the doll evolution determined the when and the age-appropriateness.

Christmas Day 1963, I had been twelve-years-old for one week. My present would be Barbie. Immediately I noticed that she had dark hair like my mother; Barbie was not the blonde doll I had requested. (I was blonde, but every baby doll I ever had were brunettes also.) No matter, Barbie had come to live with me.

My other gifts would be her attire. She arrived in an official box with her pearl earrings, black strappy heels, and that iconic black and white striped swimsuit. The rest of her wardrobe included a very sixties lounge outfit in a bold East Indian design, a fuzzy white coat, and a Dior-design dress with full skirt and little puffy sleeves. These out-of-the-box creations had been delicately hand-sewn.

Hand-sewn? That detail bonded me to my new friend. Her wardrobe would be no different than my own clothing. My mother, grandmother, and godmother made all my outfits (and would continue until I went to college). Each woman had a wonderful tailoring touch and eye for creative detail and color.

Besides, inside the Barbie box, was a booklet depicting her dream wardrobe. And dreamy were those drawings in bright drippy colors revealing the life adventures of a versatile, talented, independent, and creative young woman. All these visions captured what a twelve-year-old girl wants to know about her budding future as a woman.

Her hair, her make-up, her fabulous figure? These details never seemed to touch the reality of my life. Those clothes reflected life adventures and possibilities.

What I soon discovered, however, was that the $.25 to $.50 I was able to save each week would not be enough for the most amazing outfits and accessories. Even if I did manage to save $3.00 to $5.00, Woolworth’s had sold out what I planned to buy. Therefore I would have to go back to examples of versatility, talent, independence, and creativity of the women I knew in life.

In the early sixties, major sewing pattern companies – Advance, McCall’s, and Simplicity – created their own line of Mattel endorsed pattern designs. The cover art was as fun and clever as the “ready-to-wear” wardrobe booklets. Any smart and self-sufficient young woman could have all the designs she wanted for the initial investment of $.50 to $.75.

I wanted to be that kind of young woman; therefore, I learned to sew under the tutelage of my grandmother, along with the official Barbie sewing pamphlet included in the patterns. Even today, I find these directions to be a great primer for anyone wanting to learn the art of sewing. More than just instructions, these directions encouraged the young seamstress to have fun with cutting-up, a stitch-in-time, the hemming way, and getting-on-your-mark. And best of all, Barbie never complained about having handmade outfits, many of which coordinated with the fabrics worn by my mother and me.

And later the next year, when my Barbie met Ken, she found that he never lost interest in her either.

Despite all the protests and complaints about your possible mixed-messages to my unconscious, I remain your friend. The Barbie I knew helped teach an adolescent what real adventures in life we must take to grow-up amid any decade’s superficiality and conformity.

The Mayor's Love for Postage Ephemera

The Mayor's Love for Letters and Stamps: A Project Gallery

My husband collected stamps while I collected vintage postcards, as well as family letters and autograph books. Since all items were of some value - monetary or nostalgic - I created my own collages first from some of these items and then scanned them for projects.

I still have that French love for decoupage (and that 1970s love affair with it), so most of my projects are "decoupages" from those scanned collages that I print on card stock from my computer. Remember that United States postage stamps are in the public domain if issued before December 31, 1978. You can also use original ephemera or scrapbook paper; however, the weight of these items may not survive the decoupage process well.

Here are a few of my projects with postage stamps.

Paper Mache Houses with Vintage Photos, Stamps, Postcards, and Pharmacy Labels




Vintage Stamps Made into a Collage for a Handbag

Antique Hawaiian Postcards with Stamps

Purchasing Stamps for Projects?

bornatthewrongtime.etsy.com

Unless you are investing in creating a work of art or a commemorative piece, I would use cancelled stamps that you have collected over the years. Is that not possible? Here are examples of sources for purchasing cancelled stamps online:

Try Western New York Book Arts Collaborative at wnybac.etsy.com

For large amounts of stamps try stampsandmore.etsy.com. This site offers a large variety of quality vintage postage stamps, available in mixed lots or selected themes.

stampsandmore.etsy.com

See how you can create a monochromatic look as in this mini art print in blues by Packandpost via society6.com? You could design personal stationery from a jpeg of your scanned creation.

If you wish to sell your work, then check about a country’s public domain for stamps at Stamps and the Public Domain.

 

society6.com

In the next post I’ll share these tiny stamp houses being created.

Pinned from twokitties.typepad.com

Tiny Stamp Houses, from heatherdonohue.wordpress.com

The Mayor Visits the Post Office

"But here I am, and here I'll stay. I want the world to know I'm happy.” [Stella-Rondo in Eudora Welty’s wonderful short story "Why I Live at the Post Office"]

Eudora Welty

No, I do not live at the Little Town Post Office, but I do have a small connection. When my mother finished high school in 1940, she moved to a “small” Little Town and began working at the post office. Although my mother was not the Stella-Ronda character in the Welty story, I can hear her also saying, "But here I am, and here I'll stay. I want the world to know I'm happy."

With the next few posts, I will spend time at the Little Town Post Office sharing step-by-step DIY gifts, jewelry, art, and home projects that use vintage stamps and stamp scrap sheets. 

For now you might enjoy reading the funny and poignant short story "Why I Live at the Post Office." (You can read it online, but I have not linked to it for copyright reasons.)

The Mayor Speaks on Education

The Mayor in Third Grade

In 1956 I began kindergarten in a “Little Town.” I was four-years-old with a birthday in late December. Never having been away from my mother much, I was terrified. Not helping was having a kindergarten teacher who looked like Lewis Carroll’s Queen of Hearts who slammed her ruler on each little desk or rapped knuckles with that same weapon. I do not remember anything but the terror, the tears, and loneliness.

First grade was not so bad because I had a nice teacher like the one in Ding Dong School – if we had had a television and I actually knew who she was. I fell in love with Joseph Fitzpatrick, and I learned to enjoy music, games, and snacktime. I remember little beyond those experiences except wondering why Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer would go down in his story.

Second grade got tougher – mean and scruffy little classmates, mayonnaise sandwiches that went bad by lunchtime, trying to use a Hula Hoop, and performing on stage. I do not remember whether I was in the red-, blue- , or yellow-bird reading group, but I was not in the “top-bird” group. I must have been a yellow bird because I was still very scared; however, happily I had another nice Ding Dong School matron look-alike.

That year my family moved to another “Little Town” somewhat deeper in the South. I was behind all the bird reading groups and math groups. Worst of all, I had a teacher who looked and acted much like the witch in Wizard of Oz. I remember nothing about those three months except standing in the corner for crying all the time – watching spiders spin webs.

Third grade began with a good teacher but with rowdy classmates who knew less than I and would enjoy making me cry. Thankfully, this teacher was visited by the stork so that our class was divided between two other poor teachers.

I walked crying into that classroom. The teacher took me aside sweetly and held my hands. As I looked in her face, I realized that I had never seen anyone so beautiful. Mrs. Adkinson was a gentle princess with strawberry-tinted hair and fair skin. To build my confidence, she let me stay after school to help her with chores. I got Mrs. Adkinson all to myself before I walked home every day.

I remember being loved and getting the help I would need to catch-up after a few years to grade level. I remember making many friends whom I still have today.

At eight-years-old, I was now READY for school.

Third Grade Class Photo: Mr. Sanders was always a terrible photographer!

 

Little Town's Origin, Part One

Hi! I am Jenifer, Mayor of Little Town. Little Town began in the finished attic space of my house that was my husband's hobby room. When other men had yet to hear of a "man cave," my husband had his own "man heaven." Enjoy a tour of Little Town here.