Tag Archives: Julie Seyler

Rolling With the Zeitgeist

01 Wednesday May 2013

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The spirit of the times. Watercolor ink drawing. Julie Seyler.

The spirit of the times. Watercolor ink drawing. Julie Seyler.

BY JULIE SEYLER

Zeitgeist is a fabulous word. Not only does it begin with the letter Z, but it rolls off the tongue, and has a definition worthy of punditry. In broad terms it means, “the spirit of the times.” An iced, dry martini with a single olive is a zeitgeist moment of the early 21st century. Let me revise that – that was more likely a zeitgeist moment of the mid-1950s. Chocolate martinis, dirty martinis swimming in olives, and pomegranitinis define now.

These meanderings make me hark back to what defined the zeitgeist of the ’70s, when we later-50-year-olds, approaching 60 year olds, and dare I say it, already approaching 70 year olds, were the generation shaping the zeitgeist. Today, that generation, “us,” is the soon-to-be-demographic definition of “senior citizen.”

We all react differently to being on the right side of 50. I have come to refer to this new/next stage as no longer being in Kansas a la Judy Garland in “The Wizard of Oz.” I straddle the fence, desperately clinging to youth, and slowly accepting the fact that I am no longer in any way “young.” And this leads me to ponder: What was the spirit of those times – the ’70s?

Everyone has their own memory bucket, but for me, I hear slogans: “Sex Drugs and Rock ‘n Roll;” “Make Peace, Not War;” “If he’s old enough to fight for his country, he’s old enough to vote.” There were movements: The Black Panther Movement, the Peace Movement, and the one I glommed on to – the Feminist Movement. I was a devotee of Gloria Steinem, but am ashamed to admit that I never read Betty Friedan’s book, “The Feminist Mystique.” For me, the Supreme Court’s decision in Roe v. Wade balancing the interests of the mother, the child, and the state in determining the legal right to have a safe termination of pregnancy was a cause for celebration. (Of course I am flabbergasted that anyone could even conceive of a desire to overturn that decision. It boggles the mind. But that’s another blog.) That’s my partial list of the world around me between 1968-1977.

It all seems so safe and innocent, although my mother reminded me that those years were also characerized by a great deal of violence. I’d forgotten the race riots and Kent State and the utter devastation of lives wrought by the Vietnam War.

There’s a Method to My Mascara: Plump Up the Volume

26 Friday Apr 2013

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There are NEVER too many mascaras

There are NEVER too many mascaras.

BY JULIE SEYLER

Does anyone remember reading Cosmopolitan (Cosmo) magazine in the 1970s? Helen Gurley Brown’s creative inspiration for the single woman – the risqué diversion from Glamour and the now defunct Mademoiselle? Cosmo always ran a quiz. Maybe all the teen mags did. Maybe they still do. In any event, the purpose of the quiz was to give you, the reader, an insight into your personality. Pop psychology in 10 questions as to whether you were an innate extrovert, who embraced the idea of a party with 100 strangers, or a natural introvert, who could think of nothing more fun than a dinner for two by candlelight. Somehow, the choices given were always made to be mutually exclusive. You were this way, or that way, but never a combo of both. I loved taking those quizzes, and counting how many times I answered (a) or (b) or (c), and getting my nutshell diagnoses in a 100 word paragraph. Better yet, was picking the (a) or (b) or (c) based on my prediction of what the magazine had determined was my primary personality trait.

I don’t remember any of the quizzes today, but one question from one quiz has stuck in my mind over the past 40 years. And rather than it being a reflection of how I have changed, it is a reflection of how I have stayed exactly the same – at least with respect to this particular thing.

The question asked what make-up would I take with me to a desert island. I could choose between mascara, lipstick, or foundation. Hands down, I chose mascara, and today I would still choose mascara (albeit I love my red lipstick also).  Without mascara on, I always feel just a little bit naked, except at the beach – I draw the line at wearing makeup on the beach.

I am very methodical about how I apply mascara. I always have 6 to 8 wands of black mascara with a different type, size and style of brush. I keep a set at home; a set at the gym. And a travel set, because I hate the idea of leaving home without my mascara. People look at my line up and say, “Huh? Why do you have so many mascaras?”

Well, there is a technical method to my madness. The old ones help build the eyelash so it doesn’t clump. The medium old ones help lengthen the eyelash, and the newest mascara gives it shine. (As soon as I discard an old mascara, I buy a new one.)

I have shown my mascara application process to all my guy friends, and they are so appreciative. In fact, I think money can be made on this process.  I intend to ask one of my colleagues if my mascara system can be protected as a business method patent.

7 mascaras and one red lipstick

7 mascaras and one red lipstick.

Walking Like a Tourist in Manhattan

22 Monday Apr 2013

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Observing the city from on high. Bowery Savings Bank.

Observing the city from on high. Bowery Savings Bank. All photos by Julie Seyler.

BY JULIE SEYLER

Sometimes I pretend that I am a tourist in Manhattan. I go for a walk with my camera looking for things that I would notice if I were on vacation in an unknown city. I might wander down Second Avenue or take the bus up to the George Washington Bridge or, if in the mood for a boat trip, hop on the ferry to Staten Island. It’s always great to see the Statue of Liberty.

Liberty in the distance.

Liberty in the distance.

One day, I walked south on the Bowery. At the corner of Houston Street, like almost every block in the city, construction was going on. To protect against falling debris, a tarp overhang, bolted down by a mesh wire wall, had been erected, thereby creating a covered pedestrian walkway. I was about to cross the street when I noticed that the obliqueness of the early morning, eastern light created shadows on the sidewalk. When the wind blew against the wire mesh, it looked like ripples on a lake …

Sidewalk mesh. Photo by Julie Seyler

… and the steel bars holding everything down reminded me of a Franz Kline painting:

Shadow lines on a sidewalk. Photo by Julie Seyler

I kept walking south, and came upon a grand old building supported by columns in a Greek Corinthian style, and decorated all over with ornate floral fretwork, which seems to be a ubiquitous characteristic of 19th century architecture.

The Bowery Savings Bank

The Bowery Savings Bank.

It was the Bowery Savings Bank Building, completed in 1895 by the firm of McKim, Mead and White. It had been designated a New York City landmark back in 1966. The architects had even taken into account the ground one stood on before entering the imposing doors of the bank. Red and white mosaic tile had been laid down in a checkered pattern. It framed a red vine with sprouting leaves. Given the speckled concrete floors that support modern commercial buildings, it seemed so exotic despite its somewhat battered condition.

Mosaic tile. Bowery Savings Bank.

Mosaic tile. Bowery Savings Bank.

At Canal Street, I turned around and headed back uptown. The tenement buildings remained a testament to the city that once was. Slowly, they will be torn down, and replaced with glass boxes. That is the history of New York. Each generation makes its mark, and with it a little more architectural history is stripped away. I snapped this photo in memory of all the long lost fire escapes.

Fire escape confusion

Fire escape confusion.

Deep Affection, and a Pillow to Prove It

19 Friday Apr 2013

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"The Cycle of Love". Pillow art by Julie Seyler

“The Cycle of Love.” Pillow art by Julie Seyler.

Sometimes, we may think the cycle of love refers only to the cycle of our lovers and spouses. But, does it not also refer to the cycle that imbues the greatest friendships? The cycle of affection, happiness, joy and love we feel, over and over again, when we remember how lucky we are to have the people in our lives whom we call great friends?

So here’s to the five-month anniversary of the blog, and the cycle of love that underlies it. Thanks to everyone for following and reading.

Traveling with Scissors (Remember When?)

16 Tuesday Apr 2013

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Scissors from Spain, bought in 1984

Scissors from Spain, bought in 1984.

BY JULIE SEYLER

I have a pair of scissors I bought in Toledo, Spain in 1984. Everyone knows the connection between Toledo and El Greco, but the city was also once famous for its swords. I could neither afford, nor did I want a sword, but I most definitely wanted a keepsake that would capture their essence.  Every tourist shop was filled with swords and knives, and cutlery characterized by the basic inlay of gold or silver known as damascene ware. The design was different from anything I saw back home, and after much thought, I decided a pair of scissors would be the perfect souvenir. Not only pretty and unique, but functional. They were packaged in a black velvet pouch.  The pouch is long since lost, but I always know where those scissors are because they define a moment in time.

I was 26.  I had met a friend in Lisbon.  My traveler’s checks, totally $1500, were stolen the day after I arrived.  So we started out with a morning at the American Express office, but quickly got back on track and headed out to the beach in Cascais, and up to the medieval village of Obidos, and back down, and across, to Spain.  En route to Marbella, I got a speeding ticket. It was ridiculous, not the ticket, but me driving since I didn’t know how to maneuver a shift.  Once I got into fourth gear, I stayed there because it was comfortable, and easier, than downshifting to third.  We paid the fine, and drove into Sevilla. From there, we circled Andalusia hitting Granada to see the Alhambra and the Cathedral in Cordoba. We drank sherry in Jerez de la Frontera, saw the aqueducts and a bullfight in Ronda, and moved north to Toledo, where I bought the scissors.  In Madrid, our last stop, I lost my camera, but had absolutely no problem boarding the plane with a pair of scissors in my bag.

So whenever I use those scissors I am reminded of the girl and the world of 30 years ago.  I was somewhat fearless and mighty trusting, because although my money was stolen, and I was stopped by a Portuguese policeman, the world seemed like a safe place. I think back and so many things were different.  I always went to the post office to buy stamps because the best way to communicate was through post cards.  Overseas phone calls were prohibitively expensive, and you had to find a place that had international telephone service.  I was able to afford a three- week trip not just because everything was cheaper, but because I could sleep in a lumpy bed in a hostel, and didn’t give a thought to group showers with a bunch of other kids. Even losing my camera was not devastating, because I used film.  The camera was gone, but not the 12 rolls of film documenting every adventure before Madrid.

Fade back to 2013.  Needless to say those scissors have became dull after 30 years of use.  One night, Steve was sharpening knives, so I asked if he could hone the scissors as well. Who knew a knife sharpener is the death knell of a scissor blade?  They no longer cut, and I am in the middle of researching scissor sharpeners, because I can never give them up.

The Saturday Blog: Love Eternal

13 Saturday Apr 2013

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Kissing gravestones, Trinity Church

Kissing gravestones, Trinity Church. Photo by Julie Seyler.

We see this photo of contingent gravestones as a metaphor for eternal love. They are leaning on each other, never to part.

Oh Baby! The Art of a Pink Push-Up, Padded with Plastic Ones

12 Friday Apr 2013

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Pink push-up bra. Julie Seyler.

My pink, push-up bra. Assembled by Julie Seyler.

BY JULIE SEYLER

I walk crosstown to swim several times a week. I wear my bathing suit under my work clothes, and always remember to pack my underwear. Except when I forget. It happened a couple of summers ago, so before I got to my office I ducked into Strawberry’s, a discount women’s department store that carries everything from umbrellas to shoes; sweaters to lingerie (albeit the lingerie selection is limited). The choices run from leopard print to neon blue, all made with 100% non-natural fabrics. The best I could do was a hot pink, perfectly constructed, push-up bra in a material designed to evoke faux silk. It looked sort of like a bathing suit top, but it got me through the day. I came home, and retired it to the back room where I keep all my art supplies.

But the basic bones of the bra spoke to me. It amounted to sculpture, and given its vibrant color, I knew I had to do something with it.

So, I lined a wooden box with black velvet. I figured the pink sheen of the polyester would pop out when placed against the black. Over the years, I have purchased hundreds of spools of vintage silk thread. The colors are super pure, and the texture of the thread is lush. I selected a red and a blue to sew the bra into the black velvet box. I am enchanted by miniature plastic babies, so I sewed a few of them onto the bra. I loved it when it was finished, and decided that my friends Deb and John might also love it.

I am so flattered. It’s hanging in their guest bathroom downstairs for all to peruse when nature calls.

Close-up pink push-up bra.

Close-up.

My Buddy, His Birds, and Appreciation from the Sidelines

08 Monday Apr 2013

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Birdland

Birdland. Photos by Julie Seyler.

BY JULIE SEYLER

I have a friend who is a birder.  When he first told me that he took excursions to Central Park every Saturday morning during spring migration season to catch what was coming up from down South, I was baffled.  But over the course of our 20-year friendship, I have come to appreciate the mystery of birdwatching.  So while I have never become a bird groupie, I thoroughly understand the pleasure that comes from a successful sighting; the thrill of spying the bird that seemed to get away. And the overall satisfaction of a day spent with warm-blooded creatures that have the power of flight.

And because I know the excitement of seeing something rare and unexpected, I no longer blink an eye if we are driving along, and come to a sudden stop because he spots something in the sky, on the road or in a tree. As a result, I have picked up minimal knowledge of being able to distinguish terns from gulls, and plovers from sandpipers. But basically, I’m a rube.

Nonetheless, if I’m going on vacation to someplace that is known for some exotic, colorful bird species, I most definitely pack my binoculars.  I know I have been very lucky to have seen lilac-breasted rollers, spoonbill cranes, secretary birds, and malachite kingfishers.

Lilacbreasted roller. Botswana

Lilac-breasted roller. Botswana.

So on a recent trip to Sherwood Island State Park in Connecticut, my friend brought the car to a sudden roadside stop to check out bufflehead ducks.  On the walk to the beach, he pointed out Canada geese and coots, and then off he went with his binoculars to see what else he could find.

seeking shore birds

Seeking shore birds.

He came back with a report that he had seen a few more buffleheads, some mergansers and long-tailed ducks. For a 30-minute stop in 30-degree weather, it was definitely gratifying.  Meanwhile, I had ended up walking along the beach checking out the shells. I guess nature calls differently to each of us.

me holding a shell

Me, holding a shell.