Let’s be honest, the only thing anyone is going to be searching the internet for right now are pictures of the best and worst Oscar gowns. I personally prefer the Met gala since those dresses tend to be more outlandish. For that matter, I also can’t get enough of the Miss Universe national costumes. Here are some of my favorite dresses from various award shows over the years.
I’ll keep this simple because I want to get back to the show, but let’s just say I would happily accept the wardrobes of Cate Blanchett, Dita Von Teese and, surprisingly, Anne Hathaway. So without further ado…
The power of red.
Pale and lovely in pink…
Orange is a hard color to pull off but these are beautiful.
Yellow is equally challenging and not a color you often see on the red carpet which is too bad.
Green is also not terribly common.
Blue is my favorite color.
Purple, the color of royalty…
Silver and white definitely pulls focus.
Brown is not a color you associate with sexy and yet…
I love weird, structural plants and anything that attracts hummingbirds or has alien looking flowers. Where does one find such specimens you may ask? It seems Australia has a plethora of them. Not only are they weird and even (swoon) toxic, many of them happen to be well suited to our climate here in LA. While I’ve mostly stuck with California native plants, I admit I have been flirting with Australia lately. I’ve always been a sucker for an accent.
Some of the oddest looking plants in the world can be found in the land down under and lucky for you, they are showcased in this article by Nadina Hughes. I love her blog, you too will love it.
This plant is called a Desert Pea and is protected by the Australian government. No picking these little aliens, no sir. I’d love to have an army of these crawling across my yard. I wonder if I can find seeds for them.
Here are a few more weird plants, some from Australia, some not. I love the bat faced one.
Bat Faced Cuphea Photo by JKehoeCannonball Tree Photo by WahjSwaddled Babies Photo by Tim Waters
Then there’s this… Â This is an Australian Baobab tree and that’s pretty much all I can say definitively about this picture. Why is this girl being swallowed by it (birthed by it?) and why does she look like Laura Ingalls Wilder? Apparently, these trees were used as jail cells once upon a time!?!
This is a Corymbia Ficifolia and it’s a beautiful Australian tree, indeed one of the most spectacular in all the world. So fuzzy.
And more fuzzy: Acacia trees. There are so many different types. Make sure to do your research though, some of them can be invasive in southern California. That means they can be bad breaker-uppers too.
I’m having a love affair with Grevillea right now. I planted a Grevillea Long John in my front yard and it’s seductive. Grevillea have pine tree like needles on them and require very little water. They love full sun and scorching heat. Their best feature, however, would have to be the flowers that spring magically up and out like exploding firecrackers or caterpillars. There are so many different colors it’s dizzying and hummingbirds love them. Thank you, Australia. Behold!
Now, let’s not skip over the Australian plants that can kill you…or at least make you violently ill.
This pretty little Black Bean tree produces large pods filled with toxic seeds from March-May and will make you very very sick. I hate myself for loving you…
One of the ten most poisonous plants on earth, the Strychnine Tree, also known as the semen strychnos (let’s be adults please) produces orange like fruits that contain neurotoxins. Ingest one of these and you’ll likely experience convulsions, paralysis, or may even die. It’s used in small doses in homeopathic medicine and in large doses in rat poison. I’m intrigued but I have to pass.
There are over 2000 types of Euphorbia, most of which contain a toxic sap known to irritate the skin, eyes, and even cause blindness. I planted this Blackbird Euphorbia in my yard so yeah, duly noted.
I see Angel’s Trumpets all over Los Angeles. Guess what? These Australian imports can be poisonous.
Pitcher Plants are found in many places, not just Australia. They trap insects in their evil little vases and have been known to devour whole rats. You can buy them at California Carnivores.
Deadly Nightshade and Oleander also call Australia home. Can everything in Australia kill you?
If danger and beauty are your thing, you can find many Australian plants at the magnificent Seaside Gardens in Carpenteria. Not only do they sell rare imported plants but they also have demonstration gardens for Australian, South African, and California natives. They were doing drought tolerant before we had a drought. You can also go to australianplants.com and order some plants online.
Finally, may I recommend Wicked Plants by Amy Stewart. Witty, informative, and chock full of great illustrations, Stewart will take you on a tour of the villainous botanicals lurking in your own back yard. Yes, Australia, we too can be devious here in the states. Maybe it’s because you’re beautiful, bad, and mysterious, but I believe you and I are made for each other, mate.
My wedding dress had a train of ethically acquired peacock feathers on it. I’m going to let that sentence sit there for a minute for you to absorb…
Shall we continue? If I read that sentence I’d hate the person who wrote it but alas, it’s the truth. Were they really ethically acquired? Well, at least the woman I bought them from swore they were. She also charged me what I like to call the “not plucked premium.”
The feather has a long and storied past in the fashion world dating back in the Middle Ages and has primarily been a sign of social status. From Venetian masks to the boas of Cancan dancers, the feather has tickled us for centuries. Read all about it here.
There was a time when wearable taxidermy was all the rage, friends.
Actress Christie MacDonald, circa 1902.
Clara Bow
Louise BrooksJean Harlow
It fell out of fashion largely because of what might be the first recorded animal rights campaign.
Today there are plenty of folks making hats from actual roadkill they come across like this beauty by James Faulkner:
Or perhaps this one by Margot Magpie for that special gent in your life.
Photo by Dafydd Owen
Or this peaceful white winged bride by Bat Cakes Couture. You can read her artist statement on her Etsy store.
Or the evil twin. The model looks a little like Tippi Hedren.
The undisputed king of feather fashion, however, Â is Alexander McQueen. When I saw his exhibit in New York, I actually got teary. Just magnificent. It was as if he reached into the back of my brain and pulled out everything I always dreamed of.
Don’t go hungry, model girl. You can cook and eat the eggs in your hat.
This bird is soaring on the sky of my torso, bucko.
Look to the future…far into the future.
This is exactly how I get dressed in the morning, truly.
This.is.beautiful. I can’t even think of a sarcastic thing to say.
Head explodes in pure joy. I need a minute.
But let us not neglect your feet. You will be feathered from head to toe by the end of this piece.
These are fabulous. These are Dior.
Pretty pretty by Pedro Garcia.
Clips you can put on any pair of shoes by Kathy Johnson. Yes please.
Ok, these are scary. Yet magnificent. No, still scary.
I present you with a foundation garment.
And those zany Victorians and their morbid jewelry. Hummingbirds. I saw a necklace just like this in the hunting museum in Cairo. I stood there feeling guilty but completely mesmerized.
And now, I take my leave of you. Go. Dream of birds. Â xoxo
The king of creepy himself. The duke of dainty death. He inspired a generation of illustrators and storytellers. He thrilled and terrified children across the globe. The one, the only, Edward Gorey.
He had a lot of cats.
I’d bake him a cake if I could.
Kafka had nothing on him.
I bet he knew how to treat a lady.
He looked fantastic in fur.
People like really really looove Edward Gorey. There was an Edward Gorey Ball in LA. It was before I moved here. Let’s have another!
“The intersection of stardom and madness, mystery and decay meet at the crossroads of Rockhaven Sanitarium. The once-thriving refuge for troubled minds now sits fallow, crumbling and silent as it awaits an uncertain future, much like its past residents.” -Sezin Koehler, author American Monsters.
I recently had the privilege of touring the abandoned Rockhaven Santitarium with Atlas Obscura. Hidden away in the quiet Crescenta Valley, it’s quite a gem. While I anticipated a creepy good time when I signed up for the tour, what I got was a lesson in feminist history.
In the early 1920’s Agnes Richards, a widow and single mother, worked as a psychiatric nurse at some of the most notorious asylums in the country. Agnes was appalled by what she saw at these facilities, specifically the treatment of female patients. Remember that these were the days of “female hysteria” where anything from lesbianism to menopause or even your husband’s affair with his secretary could land you in an asylum. It was not uncommon for men of means to have their wives committed when they found a new girlfriend as it was considered quicker and tidier than a divorce. There are even stories of families sending their children to asylums for the summer so the parents could travel unencumbered through Europe. It was terrifying easy to have someone committed and nearly impossible to be released on your own accord.
The treatment of patients was deplorable in asylums. There was little expectation that the patients would recover and therefore little or no regard to their health or safety. These were still the early years of psychiatry and mental illness was viewed with great shame. Once someone was committed they were often forgotten about, deemed an embarrassment to their family.
Agnes Richards founded Rockhaven in 1923 to be the antithesis of these asylums. With the intent to cure the women (and the occasional man) rather than hide and control the “mental defectives” as they were called in the system. She sought to treat people with dignity while they were in residence. To begin, Rockhaven was more of a spa or a retreat than an asylum. To look at the rooms today, while they are indeed in need of repair now, you can still see the happy colors and attention to details meant to cheer up the residents. Never referred to as patients, they were simply called “the ladies.”
Rockhaven founder Agnes Richards
The ladies of Rockhaven were expected to dress themselves and attend three meals a day in the cafeteria and to contribute to the best of their abilities. They were also expected to engage with their surroundings in the hopes of reintegrating back into society as soon as they were able. Gardening classes in the three-and-a-half acre meticulously manicured property as well as day trips into LA, music and art therapy were all offered. Again, this was groundbreaking in the world of mental health where caged beds and electroshock therapy were still the norm.
Rockhaven was the first mental health institution for women by women and was founded just three short years after women gained the right to vote. This was almost unimaginable at the time yet Agnes maintained Rockhaven until 1967, then passed it on to her granddaughter.
The original building and grounds were lovely:
Now, let’s talk about the parties. Agnes believed it was important to remove the stigma of mental illness so family members were invited to visit every day and there were parties held for every possible occasion. Mother’s day, birthdays, practically every day was a reason to celebrate.
Among Rockhaven’s famous residents was Marilyn Monroe’s mother, Gladys Eley, who resided there for 15 years and was a bit of an escape artist. She once ran away and got married then returned of her own accord. Billie Burke, best known as Glinda the good witch also stayed at Rockhaven. It seems Rockhaven was the precursor to all those Malibu rehab centers. The view sure is pretty.
And now, without further ado, let’s head inside Rockhaven Sanitarium:
Clothing left behind. Apparently they found fur coats and makeup too.
Two of the bathrooms. Every single one has a different color scheme with matching wallpaper and tile.
This room:
It’s important to wash your hands, ladies:
The ladies’ names are still in the closets:
The hallways are pink, SUPER PINK.
There’s wallpaper everywhere.
Rockhaven is currently owned by the city of Glendale and is in a state of disrepair. The Friends of Rockhaven, a non profit organization have been maintaining it as best they can and are lobbying to have Rockhaven added to the historic register due to its place in feminist history. Its fate is uncertain but I can say it would be a huge tragedy for it to be demolished and replaced with condos or a shopping mall which is precisely what the The Friends of Rockhaven fear will happen. I personally would love to see an investor with a love for historical detail buy it and turn it into a spa or a hotel.
I think this fountain is a great symbol of the work Agnes did at Rockhaven.
Rockhaven is rumored to have its fair share of ghosts and I think that’s a selling point honestly. What’s interesting about the stories is that they aren’t menacing but rather conjure up images of women who wish to return to a place where they found sanctuary. If you’d like to learn more about Rockhaven, check out this documentary. There’s also a coffee table book of photos coming out by writer Emily Lanigan and photographer Jason House. You can see some of those photos in this eloquent article by Sezin Koehler.
Last, here is the memorial rose garden, each rose bush has a plaque:
Welcome to Freaky Fridays where I post links to the odd and the fantastic. Thank you to my friends, especially Sally and Andrea, who provided me with pure gold this week. Have a weird news story? Send it to dearmisshavisham@gmail.com
Breaking News (hardly): George Washington’s teeth weren’t made of wood says Smithsonian.
Curbed wants you to party like the Bauhaus did and so does Miss Havisham.
If you ever find yourself in Budapest, you simply must go to Memento Park which is essentially where all communist statues go to retire. After the fall of communism most of statues and monuments pertaining to that period of history were immediately removed from around Budapest. Here they now live for your viewing pleasure.
The controversial practice of sin eating existed from Medieval times up through the early 20th century. Believe your sins can be consumed by another person leaving your soul free to enter the kingdom of heaven? The church sure didn’t think so. Â Read all about it here.
I am obsessed with this story. Read about the Russian family who lived alone in the Siberian wilderness for over 40 years then watch the video by Vice of the last surviving member of the family. They had no idea WWII ever happened.
Love taxidermy, hate the idea of dead animals? These beautiful pieces by artist Kelly Jelinek may even be better than the real thing.
And another:
I’m not going to lie, I hate this furry nail trend as reported by Bored Panda. No person who actually needs to USE THEIR HANDS could have these. It has to be a joke or some runway fashion gimmick, right? Very teen wolf, baby.
Only slightly less practical are the Guinness Book famous nails of Lee Redmond who owned the longest natural lady nails in the world. Sadly, Ms Redmond lost her nails in a car accident. She tells of her tragic loss here.
Want to stay young forever? Try the vampire line of cosmetic procedures where blood is injected into your various body parts for a youthful undead glow. I’ve been bathing in the blood of doves for centuries, dearies. How do you think Elvira stays so young?
Who doesn’t love a red velvet? This recipe from Say Yes will make you say yes, yes, yes, oh yes!
Here’s a tutorial for a do-it-yourself Miss Havisham’s wedding cake from Craft Hubs. The mice are a nice touch.
Be still my heart. This one is from Erin Gardner of Wild Orchid Baking Company and Erin Bakes. There isn’t an ugly cake on this woman’s site.
Baby head cake pops from Conjurer’s Kitchen. She started out as a taxidermist. Heaven.
And more taxidermy crossover: This past weekend I went to Break Bread at the Think Tank Gallery in downtown LA and saw these masterpieces by Scott Hove.
Last, but certainly not least, Christine McConnell who is one part baker, one part photographer, one part pinup girl. If you don’t know her, get in the know. She bakes the cakes, styles the photos, stars in the photos, and takes the photos. Pre order her book, follow her on instagram, invite her over for tea (Come on over, Christine).
On this President’s Day let’s take a look at some of the little known spiritual dalliances of our former first ladies.
Jane Pierce, wife of Franklin Pierce, was obsessed with death and illness from a very young age. She often wrote metaphysical letters to her family members discussing mortality and the afterlife. When she suffered the tragic loss of their son Bennie prior to her husband’s inauguration in March 1853, however, she made it her mission in life to reconnect with him.
The first lady and her son, Bennie.
The family had been traveling by train in Massachusetts when the train derailed and their car was overturned. The 11 year old boy’s skull was crushed, a sight Jane could never recover from fully. Consumed with grief and guilt, Jane sought out the help of the Fox sisters, three sisters from New York who played an important role in the development of spiritualism. In fact, it can be said that they pioneered spirit communication. Leah, Margaret, and Kate Fox had made a career out of speaking with the dead from a very young age through the spirits knocking or rapping on furniture and walls in response to questions. It’s said they discovered the murdered corpse of a traveling salesman under their home by asking the spirit to spell out its location. The skeleton found under their house, however, was a construction of several different corpses and included the bones of a chicken as well.
The Fox sisters had become fairly famous by the time the first lady called on them to perform a seance in the White House. It was unusual for single women to earn their own money and earn they surely did. In five years they presided over more than 400 seances, many of which are well documented. Not much is known about the actual White House seance, but Jane Pierce wrote to her sister that her son appeared to her in dreams twice after and that her soul was now calm.
From left, Margaret, Kate and Leah Fox.
Around 1888 the two younger Fox sisters became embroiled in an argument with Leah, the eldest of the sisters and their manager. Margaret and Kate were offered $1500 to expose their methods.  They held a press conference for 2000 people and confessed that their years of success as mediums had all been based on lies and that the rappings were the result of toe joint cracking and well timed routines. The two women had developed drinking problems by this point and now, shunned by the spiritualist community, would recant the confession but the damage to their reputations was done. Both died penniless and were buried in pauper’s graves in Cyprus Hills Cemetery. Their sister Leah, who they never reconciled with, is buried in Greenwood cemetery in Brooklyn. They are still discussed in some paranormal circles without mention of their trickery ,but fakes they certainly were. Harry Houdini, who made a career out of debunking spiritualists, said that had the women not confessed and been paid the $1500 they would have starved.
The two younger Fox sisters
Jane Pierce had shared the story of her successful seance with the Fox sisters with Mary Todd Lincoln. Mary  was a controversial figure in Washington from day one of her husband’s presidency. Prone to wild fits of overspending, she once purchased 400 pairs of gloves in a single month. She also undertook the complete redecoration of the White House using federal funds, a decision that was wildly unpopular during the Civil War when many citizens were suffering personal losses and struggling to provide for their families.
In February 1862, Mary Todd Lincoln’s son died of typhoid. She was met with little sympathy as so many young men were dying in The Civil War and the public blamed her husband. Even Mary’s family were cold, many were confederate sympathizers.
Like Jane Pierce, Mary called on the services of well known spiritualists like Cranston Laurie, also a high ranking employee of the US Postal Service, young Nettie Colburn Maynard and “another identified in the record only as ‘Colchester of Georgetown’ to conduct these ‘calls to the dead’ in the White House Red Room.”
Mary is said to have been so taken by the young spiritualist, Nettie Colburn Maynard, that she secured a furlough for her brother as well as a job for Nettie as a clerk at the Department of Agriculture. She was desperate for Nettie to remain in Washington and asked Nettie to perform a seance in the presence of the President. Mary believed she was speaking to her son and that after the seance “He comes to me every night and stands at the foot of my bed with the same, sweet adorable smile he has always had…”she wrote to her sister.
Nettie wrote in her 1891 memoir, Was Abraham Lincoln a Spiritualist? Curious Revelations from a Trance Medium, that she and her congress of spirits had influenced the President on matters of state and had brought about the writing of the Emancipation Proclamation. Bold claim, Nettie.
After Abraham Lincoln’s assassination, Mary would travel through Europe meeting  more spiritualists. She was also photographed by William Mumler, a well known spirit photographer, in 1871. The image of Lincoln’s ghost resting his hands protectively on Mary’s shoulders is said to have brought her great comfort.
In the years that followed Abraham’s death, Mary fell into a deep depression mixed with paranoia. Due to the delay in Lincoln’s estate settlement, Mary was convinced she would end up penniless and once tried to sell her entire wardrobe. She also believed the city would be consumed by fire. Her son, Robert, eventually had her committed to Bellevue Place an upscale asylum for women for several months. The hearings leading up to her hospital stay were a source of great humiliation for her. She never forgave her son. As explained in The Doctor’s Review:
Some said that Mary claimed to hear voices through the walls; servants were forced to stand guard over their fearful mistress while she slept. Her alternating habits of wasteful spending and frugal saving were exposed before the court. Some historians believe she may have had bipolar disorder, though few would go so far as to diagnose schizophrenia, despite the fact that she seemed to suffer at times from psychosis and delusions.
One of Mary’s doctors, Willis Danforth, was the star witness. He reported that Mary had told him that an evil Indian spirit was pulling wires out of her left eye, that she was distracted by premonitions of her own death and that she was prone to vomiting up her meals to foil imaginary poisoners. The manager of the Chicago hotel she lived in explained how Mary had shown up in the elevator half-naked, and sent all her belongings to Milwaukee one day believing the city was being consumed by a raging fire.
After Mary’s death, many theories surfaced surrounding her apparent madness. A brain tumor, possible syphilis, post traumatic stress disorder, bi polar disorder…the list of possible causes is long. What can be said for certain is that she was preyed upon by fake spiritualists and is now only really remembered for her folly and her madness vs her political beliefs when, by all accounts, she served as her husband’s conscience for much of the war.
I can’t hide it, I love Martha Stewart. I’m not even ashamed really. Maarfa’s got great recipes that I will never end up cooking but think I will, her garden is transcendent, and her Halloween issue has me giddily flipping the pages searching for what her costume will be this year. Oh Martha, come over and have a slumber party at my house. We can stay up all night, mosaic our nails with fine china shards and knit some pashminas from all that extra cat fur flying around my house. The next morning we can sip homemade absinthe, plant 7000 black tulip bulbs in my backyard, and design a miniature animal barn for all the teacup pigs we’re going to rescue.
No matter how much I love me some Maarfa, there is one section of her magazine that causes me to stop and really reconsider my life choices and that’s her monthly calendar. However does she do it all?
Ever striving to approach the majesty of Martha, I humbly submit my own schedule for your eagle eyes. Here are the LA events I will be attending in the next few weeks, maybe I’ll see you there, dearies.
Come get your pretty book fix and support artists from near and far.
Break Bread Opening Night February 13th. Events through March 13th
There’s a whole month of events at Think Tank Gallery from February 13th through March 13th which include culinary treats, sexy acrobats, and…a whole room made of cake by Banksy collaborator, Scott Hove. Â Cake, guys! They had me at cake.
The great and benevolent Prince of Puke will be orating at Luckman Fine Arts Center. I have my tickets, do you? I met John Waters when I was in college and it is one of the few times in my life I have felt star struck (the other being Eddie Izzard). I was so nervous and tongue tied I couldn’t say a word, he just patted my arm and said, “I know sweetie. I know.”
Drive to the porn capital of LA, The Valley, and drink in a building shaped like a barrel. They’re offering food and special drink pairings to make you forget where you are and who you’re with.
I was in fifth or sixth grade when our teachers trucked us all out for what has to be the oddest school trip combo in history: The Cleveland Museum of Natural History and the Football Hall of Fame. There I was pale, skinny, bookish, all knees and elbows and just dreading going to the sports portion. Some things don’t change. In fact, I actually just had to look up what sportball hall of fame is in Ohio while writing this because clearly I only have a real memory of the museum. Needless to say, I was in the minority on that trip.
This was the first time I’d been to a natural history museum and I stood there staring at the giant taxidermy dioramas frozen in awe. I had not expected this. I thought this museum would be all geodes and planetariums, which I would have also been fine with, but this…this was magical. I stood there so long it felt like time had stopped. I nearly missed the bus to the Football Hall of Fame and someone had to come find me and drag me out of the building. I loved walking through the dark rooms lit only by the lights in the nature scenes. I loved the painted backdrops behind the animals, I loved the theatre of it. I never wanted to leave. From that day on, I was enthralled.
Taxidermy is a polarizing topic especially, I find, here in California so let’s be very clear on the subject: I love taxidermy but I don’t support killing for sport. Big game hunters make me sick. The taxidermy I collect is all very very old (mostly Victorian) and somehow that makes me feel better about it. I have no interest in actually creating taxidermy myself and I nearly faint when someone jokes about me stuffing one of my cats after they die, so my relationship with taxidermy is still a bit complicated.
For me, it’s about understanding the Victorian’s relationship with the natural world and their obsessive desire to preserve everything. They were fixated with death and mourning and I suppose I was/am too. I’m also obsessed with human mummies and funeral photos so I don’t really discriminate across species at least.
This past weekend I bid on a number of pieces at auction that were all Victorian pets. This was an exhaustive and fascinating collection of taxidermy, mourning jewelry, automatons, and antique erotica held by Treadway Toomey Auctions in Chicago. The auction was held to raise money to fund grants for contemporary artists. Here’s an excerpt from the program:
Treadway Toomey Auctions is pleased to offer items from the Estate of Candice B. Groot. This important single-owner collection spans much of the late 19th through 21st centuries and includes fine timepieces, erotica, fine taxidermy, automata and decorative arts in addition to exceptional modern and contemporary art and ceramics. The collection will be offered for sale in four auctions throughout 2016 with proceeds benefiting the Virginia A. Groot Foundation, a nonprofit arts organization.
Candice Groot was an artist, teacher, philanthropist and passionate collector. She established the Virginia A. Groot Foundation in 1988, named in honor of her mother. The Foundation awards annual international grants to contemporary artists who work in three dimensions to help allow for the development of their work.
But I digress, this collection floored me. Whoever had these mounts made back in the day clearly loved their pets and wanted them with them always and Candice A. Groot recognized their genius and procured them. Here are a few of them from the auction house website:
Oh kitty, you are special.
And my personal favorite:
The fact that they’re pets is what drew me to them. These weren’t wild animals killed for sport, they were members of the family put on actual pedestals, propped up on velvet pillows or worn on the heads of their humans.
Probably the most famous of all Victorian taxidermists is Walter Potter. Well known for his anthropomorphic dioramas of animals, he is a classic example of the Victorian “whimsy” that quickly fell out of fashion in the twentieth century. Potter displayed his creations in his museum and they were well loved at first, then lost their appeal altogether for a time. His collection was sold off in 2003 piece by piece. Two of his pieces, quite large in size, were auctioned off this past Saturday and fetched the price of $100,000 and $140,000 so someone still loves them (besides me, of course).
The auction also contained a fair amount of mourning jewelry of a similar type. All the pieces had paintings of the dearly departed’s eye in the center of them. They’re beautiful and haunting.
I encourage you to have a look at some of the odd erotica pieces too, they’re quite something. There are canes with secret compartments, naughty pocket watches, and ladies compacts with secret paintings inside to name just a few of the choice items. The Victorians weren’t all high collared dresses and courting couches, believe me.
Lastly, I leave you with a few of the antique automatons that I coveted:
And who doesn’t love a smoking monkey?
Thank you, Candice B. Groot for having such exquisite taste and for setting up such a noble fund for artists. I just wish I’d won the pooch on the velvet pillow.
Miss Havisham's Tea 