19 hours had passed since I was wading in sewage and flood in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, when I got a text from Renegade Volunteer Crew Co-Horts, Flambeaux and Abby.
When my text binged, I was expecting it to be more volunteer meet-up info, but this one was a little bit different. Because life is weird and strange sometimes.
We were in Vogue.
You see, Flambeaux and Abby run Flambeaux Fire and they put together the kind of parties I imagined crashing in all of my teenaged fantasies of New York City. This was their sixth time producing the entertainment for Allison Sarofim’s annual Halloween party and this year’s theme was Picasso. And like everything Flambeaux and Abby do, it was a vivid imagination epic brought to life.
Here’s a closeup of my outfit designed by the genius Garo Sparo.
And what a wild, gorgeous night it was. Captured in Vogue history.
While I was growing up in Florida, daydreaming of such imaginative parties and people, I had this exact image taped to my bedroom wall….
She with innocent eyes and a white net veil, watched over me from the cover of Vogue. She was my version of the holy Madonna. She was my sainted lady of glamour and fashion. I put her ethereal image next to my bedroom mirror. Through lighting like the sun through trees, she guided me through my awkward years of high school, growing up with a household of boys. With flowers in her dark hair and red lips, she still inspires much of my fashion.
I found her vintage Vogue cover in the trash on the street with the first boy I ever kissed. He was a punk rock kid, who was three years older than me and drove a hearse with the words “Death Express” painted on it. We lived near a retirement community in Florida and Mike and I would meet up on garbage nights to go “vintage shopping” together. This Vogue was one of the treasures I found, the white hair flower crown I wear sometimes is also a find from those nights, as well as half of my 1940s jewelry collection.
Oh, what gorgeous things were discarded on the sides of those winding roads.
Presents waiting to be found, nestled in garbage.
I imagine whispering to the past version of me, as she ripped the vintage Vogue cover off and scotch taped it to her wall, that one day, one day, those creative art parties would be waiting far away in New York City, and she would have her picture in Vogue, too.
The past me had an imagination big enough that she probably would have believed it to be possible…
What about you? Yes. I want to get an inspiration junkie fix with you, too. What is one wild daydream you’ve had that you believe can be made true? Let’s continue this conversation over at my Facebook page, so we can dream wildly together.
Sending you kisses, while wearing jewels from the garbage….. xox Veronica