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All winter I ruminated on the past like a dog rolling over in something dead.

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Tentative mountains springs teach us that there is a boundary zone between the old life and the new. Snow clings on peaks. Lupine blossoms in the sage when it’s still cold enough for fox fur.

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In a sage forest the witch casts her spell.

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That some people will die before we can see where they came from.

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April in Hailey, Idaho. You can rock in the red chair on the front porch of the house Ezra Pound was born in.

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The Parallel is an imaginary line, invoked by signage. On one side we are closer to Helsinki, on the other side, Kuala Lumpur.

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In May we test the mountain roads. They are almost passable.

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And spring arrives like a Cymbalta ad, full of hyperbolic promises.

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turquoise sweatshirt: James Perse; teal green jeans: Russian Market, Phnom Penh; wool hat: Calvin Klein; Thai silk top: vintage; turtle amulet: Amulet Market, Bangkok; black cargo pants: Paige; black coat: Made in the Ukraine; Spanish riding boots: Frye; fox fur collared coat: charity shop, London

Kim-Philley-Idaho-dancing

Screen shot from lat34north.com:

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Photography: Ned Evett

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McCall tourism, McCall hiking, McCall sites, Payette River, velvet jacket, blazer, Talbots, wool skirt, layering for winter, silk scarves, vintage suede Bonnie Cashin purseTypically, when I pack for a few days stay in McCall during the winter, “fashion” doesn’t even enter my mind. What I think is – Sorel boots, 600 weight down parka, gortex pants, Smartwool everything, and skis (nordic, because I’m much too timid for the alpine variety). I was born and raised in this tiny, snow-plagued mountain town – nothing could surprise me about this place anymore. Or so I thought.

This is the warmest, driest winter on record in the central Idaho mountains in 35 years. The front yard of my childhood home is actually bare in some places, and the snow isn’t more than a foot and a half in the deepest sections. The last time McCall looked the way it does now, Jimmy Carter had just been elected to office. I wasn’t even a flicker of a thought in my Ma and Pa’s mind at that point.

velvet jacket, velvet blazer, wool skirt, silk blouse, sweater vest, silk scarves, vintage leather belt, Frye shoes, leather loafers, vintage Bonnie Cashin purse, Hazel Cox, handmade jewelry

This year, as I wander the soft, loamy banks of Payette River, in clothing usually reserved for a McCall autumn, I revel in the glorious strangeness of it. I watch the bulbous, pale bodies of the whitefish slowly sway against the low, lazy current beneath the old sheep bridge and think about all the many times my family and I wandered out onto the thick frost heaves that typically cover the banks at this time of year. We’d spend the day luring those small, tender fish to hook and line with gelatinous neon grub lures that would wiggle and dance in the current.  As I watch this year’s hatch of fish roll listlessly in the untouchable center of the river with a carnivorous eye, I wish them well….for now.

layering, how to wear layers, Talbots, Talbots wool skirt, vintage leather belt, August silk, Clifford & Wills, Idaho fashion, McCall fashion

About the outfit: The velvet blazer is one of my favorite finds at a clothing exchange years ago. The silk scarf is another clothing exchange score. The shoes are wonderfully comfy Frye loafers I bought new on Ebay ($40). The rest of the outfit was all purchased at my favorite Boise thrift store – the skirt is 100% worsted wool, made by Talbots ($2.50). The blouse is silk, made by Clifford & Wills ($2). The sweater vest is a silk-poly blend, made by August Silk ($1).

vintage suede Meyer's Bonnie Cashin purse, Bonnie Cashin Coach, Hazel Cox, handmade jewelry, antique Navajo ring, elk ivory

About the accessories: The earrings are hand-hammered bronze and steel, and the necklace is hand-hammered bronze and copper with a hand-dyed silk tassel – both made by Hazel Cox. The belt is a brass, abalone, and leather beauty purchased by my Ma in the ’70’s. The rings are gold, diamond and elk ivory, made by Glade Davies, and an antique silver and petrified wood piece purchased by my great-grandmother from Navajo traders in 1930.

vintage suede Meyer's Bonnie Cashin purse, Bonnie Cashin Coach, Hazel Cox, zebra pen, Frye, leather loafers

About the purse: I bought this beautiful brown suede purse at Antique World Mall in Boise for $20. It was designed by Bonnie Cashin, who used to design for Coach in the early ’60’s. Had my purse been designed during her Coach years, it would easily be worth around $350 – $400, but since she designed it for Meyer’s, a more obscure handbag company, it’s worth is around $100. I swoon for this purse – it’s small enough to be convenient to carry, and large enough to carry my loafers for those times when I have to don my winter boots!

And turns out Cashin was a woman after our own FU hearts – here’s a quote from her biography: “Favoring timeless shapes from the history of world clothing, her staple silhouettes included ponchos, tunics, Noh coats and kimonos, all of which allowed for ease of movement and manufacture. Cashin is also credited with introducing the concept of layering to fashion.”

McCall tourism, McCall hiking, McCall sites, Payette River So, in honor of this unseasonably warm weather and layering queen Bonnie Cashin, drape yourselves in lovely layers of velvet, wool, and silk and go for a stroll along a river, down the street, or wherever you happen to find yourself today.

Pictures of me taken by Ma, all others done by moi.

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“It was one of them days, yes the first Thursday of the new month….” – the opening lyrics of River Forktine Tippecanoe – one of the more compelling of many extraordinary songs on Munly and the Lee Lewis Harlots’ self-titled album.

As it happens, the day I met Jay Munly was the first Thursday of December. Our interaction went something like this:

Me (approaching with awkward slowness and foolish grin): Can I make a request, or do you have a set list that you’re sticking to tonight?
Munly (tall, lean frame bending to better hear my quiet question): Well, you can make a request, but if it isn’t on my playlist I won’t play it.
Me (nervous laugh, still grinning): Oh, that’s fine, I understand. I’m completely thrilled to hear whatever you play. I’m just so happy you’re here.
Munly (accommodating his nervous fan – good man): Just out of curiosity, what would you have requested?
Me: Bird and/or Cat, from your Lupercalians album (duh. Like he doesn’t know which album his songs are on). I really love that album, by the way.
Munly: Oh, thank you (sounding genuinely grateful for the compliment, generic though it was).
Me (feeling desperately awkward but not wanting to part from the moment…this is where I get weird, by the way): I had a really shitty fuckin day today….I didn’t know you were here in town, but a friend of mine called and said you were playing, so I put on my big girl boots and made myself come out for a bit. I’m so incredibly thrilled you’re here. Thank you so much for coming to Boise. Really makes me happy….so anyway, thanks again for being here. I think you’re brilliant….

And with that, before I could catch a glimpse of what I’m sure was an utterly befuddled expression on his wonderfully gaunt face, I ran away to breathe and down a stiff drink. Who the heck talks about her “big girl boots” to Munly? Me….sigh.

Munly, along with a host of other exceptionally talented musicians such as Slim Cessna and David Eugene Edwards, is saddled with the honor of having developed the Denver Sound. This remarkable genre of gothic Americana country has stolen my soul and wrested my heart, and no one renders me willing to surrender soul and heart for the sake of music better than Munly.

During Munly’s set, I stood just to the left of the stage, finding a space where I could experience his sound alone, without the distraction of friends and small talk. How anyone could make a peep during his playing is something I can’t begin to comprehend, yet there were several birdbrains squawking away in the darkened corners of the bar, woefully unaware of what they were witnessing. I think Munly sensed their lacking too – he didn’t play for long. But while he sat upon that black Neurolux stage, I stood fixed to the floor by the humble splendor of his unbridled genius.

Post script: I have always been irresistibly drawn to the banjo. It’s unfortunate that Deliverance has forever marred the commanding beauty of this instrument with ghastly visions of squealing piggies. The banjo possesses a sound that is at once complex and clear. Munly is one of the few modern musicians who has truly mastered its incredible diversity and distinction.

Last spring, my dear manfriend was kind enough to buy me a banjo for my birthday. I can barely play Hot Cross Buns on the beloved thing, but I pluck away whenever I gain the courage to pick it up…..I can play the flute, but it’s a long, arduous journey from wind to string….one I’m happy to take, be it at a turtle’s pace….

By the way, these stunning photographs are courtesy of the magnificently talented Bethany Walter. She slays me with her vision every week.

Jacket: Suede – purchased by my mother in the 70’s.
Blouse: Polyester – thrift store find.
Skirt: Velvet – given to me by Jessica and Kelly, fellow FU stunners.
Boots: Leather – purchased new from Frye.
Necklace/Earrings: Hazel Cox (who else?)

The photographer’s favorite photo of the bunch……….

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