Beautiful South American Ikat Designs...

Ikat is considered one of the oldest forms of textile decoration.  The patterns, created by the complex process of weaving and dyeing, are common to many world cultures both past and present.

 

Central and South American Ikat weaving and dyeing is believed to date as far back as pre-Columbian times.  Current day, Ikat production is still quite common in Argentina, Bolivia, Ecuador, Guatemala and Mexico.

While some Ikat design appears blurred, others resemble printed patterns rather than woven cloth - the finer the pattern the more highly skilled weaver.  Along with skill-level and personal preference, design motif may have ethnic, ritual or symbolic meaning.  Or, perhaps it embodies one’s level of status, wealth or prestige in life.  Some cultures believe the cloth holds magical powers.

I, personally, am humbled by the dedication of time to the history and tradition of the process.  It is the aesthetic appeal of Ikat that catches my eye and keeps me wanting more…

Cotton Ikat ready for the loom...

Outdoor market in Guatemala displaying Ikat fabric ready to be sold...

Couture Joey

Extra-Small

South American Ikat with flannel backing coat, belt and tab.

Vintage silk necktie binding, belt-loops and trim.

Vintage Rick-Rack embellishment.

Vintage Plastic buckle.

Celluloid buttons.

"Dress-Up" - JoeysCoat Style...

Carpetbagger Joey

Small

Cotton chenille brocade coat and tab.
Vintage French yellow and silver metallic belt, loops and trim.
Bakelite buckle.
Bakelite, Celluloid and Vintage Plastic buttons.

An imaginative mix of old-fashioned grandeur and colorful art – I am referring to the image of the Carpetbagger JoeysCoat, not of me playing “dress-up”.  There is, however, a distinct similarity between the refined quality and good taste of Dana’s design and the magnificent vintage gown I was allowed to play in as a child. 

The gown was but one of many belonging to my dear piano teacher, Miss White – a remarkable woman who embraced me as her own.   A graduate of Julliard, Miss White lived directly across from my family home.  When she moved to the neighborhood she purchased three adjoining plots of land - The center, for her architectural masterpiece in which she lived with her Cairn and Rat Terriers, Happy and Gay; the lot to the south for her pool and gardens; the lot to the north for the kids in the neighborhood, complete with a baseball diamond and Badminton net.

Born in 1926, Miss White was thirty years my senior, yet we played together like two kids as we walked the dogs, rode horses, swam, gardened, played hide and seek, and my favorite, dress up.  There were more serious moments as well.  She introduced me to National Public Radio, read to me in French, taught me “proper manners” and to genuinely appreciate the fine things life has to offer.  When she practiced the piano, I would lay on my back beneath the massive Steinway with eyes closed, listening to every note.  Once she had completed her personal work-out for the day, I would hop up onto the bench of a second Grand facing her.  We would play classical duets, stopping only long enough to make certain I corrected my mistakes.

The last time I saw Miss White I was expecting my youngest son.  That was more than thirty-five years ago.  I wrote her a letter in 1999 to express to her the important role she played in my life.  I was delighted when I received her reply in which she described in detail her many adventures.   The letter was typewritten with her familiar signature at the bottom.  It was the last letter I would receive.

 

Miss White taught me so much more than merely to play the piano.  I am thankful for the lessons learned, and most of all, for her extraordinary friendship.

Ticking Meets Silk...

Carpetbagger Joey

Small

Lightly padded vintage ticking coat, belt and tab.

Silk check necktie binding.

Vintage cotton stripe ribbon belt loops.

Abalone buckle and buttons.

Urbandictionary.com describes this style as

"the art of mixing casual clothing and glamorous
elements effortlessly"-

I quite agree...

Woodstock Revisited...

Carpetbagger Joey

Petite

Vintage patchwork coat and tab with denim, velvet and damask stripes and cotton flannel backing.

Denim machine embroidered belt.

Silk vintage necktie binding.  Snap-lace cotton trim.

  Vintage Plastic two-tone buckle.  

Celluloid extruded swirl buttons.

"And everywhere there was song and celebration..."

Farewell La Jolla...

 We’ll be back…

Did You Hear The News?...

JoeysCoat’s

French Grain Sack Joey Line

 will join

Tami Renno – Purveyor of Vintage and Fine Things

February 1^st and 2^nd

at the

Junk Salvation Vintage Market

in

Hillsborough, Oregon

Feels Like Home To Me...

The dismantling of 86 years of a life well-spent is a long, thoughtful process.  The past thirty days have been filled with my big brother by my side, sifting through our history and our mother's before us - an irreplaceable experience.

While my life is imprinted on beautiful Vashon Island in the Puget Sound, my roots are deeply planted in La Jolla, California.  Growing up as a third generation La Jollan, I have a deep love for the once, sleepy little village by the sea.  My maternal grandfather was Postmaster of the La Jolla Post Office; my mother’s La Jolla High School history teacher was my principal; my physical education instructor coached my oldest son.  Back in the day, a stroll down Girard Avenue was met with familiar faces and warm greetings – now there is but a small contingent of “old La Jollans” left.

My dad likes to tell the story of mid-1950, when one could buy a large lot a block from the beach for $1500.00.  These same lots, some with the original ‘50’s homes on them intermixed with pint-size mansions, now command seven figure prices.

My grandparents, practical, family-oriented Norwegians, built their home in La Jolla Hermosa next to Windansea Beach, now a very tony address Gregory Peck once called home.  My folks built their first home in Bird Rock, a tiny beach community just south of La Jolla Hermosa.  Ten years later, they purchased a corner lot on the cliffs overlooking La Jolla Shores.  This is where my dad built my mother's “dream house”.  There were very few homes on the hillside at the time.  The few neighborhood kids all ran in a pack.  We played on the native landscape among downed ancient Oak trees, barrel cactus, fossilized sea life, skunks and rattlesnakes.  It was an incredible place and time.

When the University of California at San Diego broke ground this all rapidly changed.  Our once wild and exclusive playground became a sea of custom-built homes, bringing astronauts and academics, concert pianists and oceanographers with them, enriching my life experience even further.

My recent homecoming, though filled with sadness, is really quite bittersweet.  For the faded memories of my youth seem crystal clear today – with them comes great joy and profound gratitude for the bountiful beginnings of a wonderful life.

View of La Jolla Shores and the hillside where my family home is located...

La Jolla Cove breakwater...

La  Jolla Cove "Children's Pool" - now home to the very odiferous seals and pelicans...