Frivolous Universe

The FU Manchu ladies are back after a long winter’s nap! For three months we’ve been pigging on polenta fries and popping tags like Macklemore. But if you think not having a pot to piss in means looking bargain basement, think again.

Check out our YouTube for a peek at coming distractions from FU.

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Nothing beats a tea party to cure me of a bad case of March ides. For this shoot I grabbed two bolts of my best Balinese batik and headed out to Eagle, Idaho, to meet Ms. Kelly Lynae on her favorite horse ranch.

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And I’ll be damned if that girl doesn’t know her way around a safety pin! Kelly took my vintage batik swathes, procured from a tiny shop in Ubud, Bali, and swaddled the two of us in torqued elegance. I cast my bra aside because it’s April and time to let the minimalist fashion games begin.

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This was the moment I decided to hell with scarves. I transformed the natty red scarf I’d been tortoising around all winter into a plunging halter top. Kelly styled me in thrift store belt and then we tried our hand at interpretive dance.

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Why? Because we live in Idaho. Because I don’t own a TV or a salad spinner and most everything in the great Gem State, including entertainment, is DIY.

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And here are the lessons I took from the long, harsh winter:

1) You will fail along the way to creating something new.

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2) What other people think of you is none of your business.

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3) Do what you love every day. The secret to any great performance, after all, is muscle memory.

 

vintage Indonesian batik from Ubud, Bali; cotton scarf-cum-halter: India; 100-year-old Turkmen necklace: Armor Bijoux

Photography by Kelly Lynae

Videography by Ned Evett

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My take on the Urban Cowboy Cowgirl. With a hint of neon and a prim and proper neck.

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Appearances can be deceiving.  The Urban Cowgirl loves a flash of skin.

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These boots were made for Walken walkin’… to acting class, and the laundromat, and gypsy busses to Jersey, and that cafe I like, and the bodega for a club soda because I drank too much last night.

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(Boots are good for dancing, too.)

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A giant bag is a New York necessity for holding subway reading, and my planner, and monologues, and coffee cards, and a purple pen, and three types of condoms.

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A good hair day always means that it will be a good life day.

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Just don’t try to cat call at me.  I’ll probably flip you off.

 

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Thrift store fashion print mixing Tibetan breastplate photography Matthew Wade

Kelly: Why do we fight each other? A thought bubble rises from some bottomless pit of soul to explode at the surface with resentment.

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Bethany: As I get older, I am recognizing the fight is sometimes more within myself than with the other person. My insecurities skew how I interpret or relate to the other person’s actions. If I am worried about being likable or interesting, I am sensitive to when the other person doesn’t ask me questions about my life.

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K: Nine times out of ten, it’s all me. When some truth becomes newly clear to me, I want to pass it around like a bowl of candy or a tray of Kool-Aid in paper cups. I can have trouble tolerating someone who doesn’t understand my most tender discovery.

B: I wrestle to accept my shortcomings. And I often find a way to resent those very same shortcomings when I see them mirrored in a friend or lover. I feel as though the success or failure of my own personal growth hinges on the self-awareness, or perceived lack thereof, of the people I care about. I’ve been known to drive myself crazy with this line of thinking.

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B: When I see someone where I have been before, I feel connected. It tortures me most when I can’t understand where someone is coming from, why they did what they did. Past memories morph. Did we ever like, love, or know each other? The ground dissolves.

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K: It is a profound loss. Itching like a lost limb, a phantom consciousness natters on inside my head: What if there were some outside thing? A rock, a shoe, or a shovel? A hammer or a mirror? Could we have found a touchpoint to bring us back to ourselves? 

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B: The only thing we control is our own perception.

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K: We cannot come together without losing something. To get a sacred amulet, you must surrender a sacred amulet.

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B:  My desire to be close again is frantically noble. I struggle not to compromise to the point that I muffle my self-respect.

Thrift store fashion beret vintage silk embroidered jacket photography Matthew WadeK: My life is in a state of flux. As I rapidly unearth a new self, my relationships struggle to adapt. Newer friends like Bethany are giving me the courage to let others go.

Thrift store fashion 2 photography Matthew WadeB: Over the last year, I lost a best friend of nearly ten years. Very rarely did we ever talk about our hurt feelings. Two of the the last times we did is when I gave up. Her interpretations of my actions were so far off from any motives I would ever have. I didn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t be friends with me if I was who she thought I was. I grew distant. Things festered. My own understanding of her actions were probably wrong too. In the end, it was our insecurities that eroded our relationship.

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K: Who knows why it ends? Who knows what steers our actions? Maybe I too am addicted to Samsara. For better or for worse. Till death do us part.

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Peace. Peace. Peace.

 

SECOND HAND AND THRIFT STORE FASHION

Bethany:

Yellow XL nightclub dress; Vintage Tibetan Naga ethnic headhunter necklace from Armor Bijoux;  70s Ship N’ Shore vintage polyester blouse; 70s Ship N’ Shore vintage maxi skirt; Mexican silver and lapis necklace; Chinese Ver Marai Cheongsam lace dress; vintage Russian fur hat; vintage palazzo pants; Bamboo yellow vinyl platforms

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