The Lost Museum

Mr FS and I visited Berlin for the first time this summer. Because of my family's lucky escape from Austria in 1938 and because so many people I knew in childhood and beyond had lost relatives to the Holocaust, I was apprehensive. As it happened, I loved Berlin. We stayed in a now trendy area of the former East Berlin.

As usual, we got a museum card, in this case, a 3-day pass. All the museums are fairly small and several are clustered in "Museum Island." So we saw the must-sees--like Nefertiti--and then checked out some of the less visited exhibits.

One that intrigued me was at the Bode Museum: "The Lost  Museum." The exhibit consisted of full-size black and white photos of lost art works. Some were simply lost. Others were taken by Allied forces. Most taken by the Russian forces still have not been returned. Many works were stored for safekeeping and then were destroyed in a fire.  This last is, of course, ironic in the extreme, given the manner of death of so many people during the war. Here is an interesting essay on the exhibit from the Wall Street Journal.

The exhibit was almost empty. It was very moving. And, of course, the lost people are never far from one's mind.

In the lounge, we perused a catalog of the exhibit, which included many works not on display. I took a special look to see if there were any Veronese paintings among the lost. Indeed, there were.

Why did I look at Veronese?

Almost thirty years ago, when I was studying art in Chicago courtesy of the National Endowment for the Humanities,  the director of my seminar kindly invited me to dinner with a well-known scholar. The dinner was not a success. We went to a trendy restaurant, which was so noisy that I wince at the memory. There was a wait of over an hour. UGH. Also, I could tell the scholar was kind of bored with us, probably saving his energy for people who could help with his career.

He was an incredible gossip and I shared with him one delectable morsel. He then told a story about how he came to own a Veronese.

How do Scammers Do It?

A few days ago, we were inundated with mail addressed to WRONG PERSON with our address. I opened one without looking at the name  and discovered that WRONG PERSON was applying for credit. So I--good citizen--called ATT, Verizon, and a few other places to alert them to the scammer.

The customer service people were unconcerned. I got "Perhaps it is the previous resident" (we've been here for 25 years); "Perhaps your neighbor accidentally wrote down the wrong number" (no); and even "We're sorry. We cannot give you information on someone else's account (very suspicious of ME).

Well, I just opened an ATT bill (because I thought it was MINE) and discovered that WRONG PERSON has a bill of almost $400! Then I noticed other mail ("your statement enclosed") addressed to HIM. I wrote "Not at this address"on the envelopes and put them outside to be picked up. Who knows if they will ever return to the companies.

I can't even DEPOSIT a small check without producing picture ID. American Express is always flagging scammer charges. How do people set up fraudulent accounts?

Should I re-alert the companies or assume that it will be--as before--a waste of time during which I will be subjected to pitying comments and suspicion. I figure we're all paying for this stuff one way or another.

If Janice Can Do It, I Can Do It

Pretty much everyone in the entire universe reads and learns from the Vivienne Files, right? Well, in case you missed it, Janice is now thinking of selling some of her beautiful Hermes scarves.

Well, if she can de-accession items of such beauty and quality, why am I having so much trouble donating...let's see, a St John sweater with a hole in it in an unflattering color? A camouflage jumpsuit that I thought Frugal Son would like for a Halloween costume? An Armani sport jacket that is cut way too big for the men in my life? You get the idea.

Guess what? All these items came to me courtesy of the thrift store. I did some good for a charity by buying them. I can double my goodness (so to speak) by giving them back to be sold to the next person (except the St J, which will probably go--via the thrift store--to a bulk fabric buyer).

Really, if Janice can say good-bye to such beautiful things, I should be able to do the same to my motley collection.

Thank you, Janice, for the inspiration.

FOMO NOMO?

FOMO: fear of missing out

A fairly new acronym for me. It was used quite often in the recent mania regarding the Nordstrom Anniversary Sale. I read all the blog posts. I even bought something: a set of underwear for Frugal Son.

I get excited by sales as much as the next person. Probably more. I was raised by two sale-addicted parents. I am, in fact, writing this while taking a break from my on-going and inefficient efforts to declutter.

BUT--back to FOMO. As a little experiment, I put some of the most-touted items from the Anniversary Sale on my Nordstrom Wishlist. Guess what?

Though most of the items sold out, many have now reappeared...at even lower prices. The two Brahmin bags, the two Longchamp bags, various sweaters: all are now 50% off. One sweater I coveted is 65% off.

They are, of course, selling out even as I type. Still, seeing that Wishlist helped me a lot. I can wait till next year.

Hurricane Katrina: The Lite Version

Ten Year Anniversary. Visits from Commanders-in-Chief Present and Past.

Across Lake Pontchartrain from New Orleans, we experienced a lite version of Katrina. We were with a few neighbors in the library of a Catholic High School a few blocks away. The then mayor was upstairs in the language lab with her Spanish teacher husband.

We were there for two (three?) days. The plumbing went out after the first day.

Several members of our group walked through streets filled with downed trees and downed wires to report back on the condition of everyone's houses. The whole area smelled like gas for a few days. No power, no phone service, and even after the streets were cleared, no gas.

Within a few days, the Red Cross came with food. We lent our neighbor, who owned a generator, a window ac unit, and he let us sit in an air-conditioned space for an hour or two a day.

The second pic is the during, the view from the library; the rest are afters. The elegant woman in the orange windbreaker is our neighbor, Ha, now 95. She still looks like  a model on all occasions. The car with the doll is the work of our wealthy neighbors. And that's our house! Luckily, it is an old house, very strong, so the trees only made a hole and did not destroy the entire house.

Jacqueline de Ribes Cocktail Dress: How to Sell?

From my downscale shopping in Paris in June . . .
to upscale shopping my closet

HELP WANTED

 Many years ago, I acquired a Jacqueline de Ribes dress at one of my usual venues. I knew the name--probably from reading Vogue in the 1980s. (My memory was a veritable storehouse of miscellaneous info. Alas, not so much for recent things).  The dress had lingered for many months unsold. So I finally bought it. 

There's no size in it, but it fits Miss Em. She doesn't want it, not having a J de R lifestyle.

I first tried to sell it a few years ago. I had read that Didier Ludot, the famous Parisian vintage couture shop, was having a LBD show. I emailed a pic  and asked--in French that was corrected by Mr FS--if they would be interested. As usual--no reply.

Yesterday, I picked up an Architectural Digest from the FREE BOX at the library. Newest issue. I discovered that The Metropolitan Museum of Art is having a J d R show, featuring both her own designs and the chic stuff she wore (People with that caliber wardrobe don't follow the Kondo decluttering program--or I guess they love everything). 

So here's my question: how do I sell it? And for how much? It's the twin of this one, offered for $950 on 1st Dibs.

Thanks for any advice. 

Shopping in Paris: A Shallow and Boring Post

Miss Em told me that we should have two email threads: one for travel/art and one for shallow concerns. This is a shallow post: shopping in Paris, summer 2015. We were also in Berlin and Amsterdam, but did not buy anything other than food and drink.

I had prepared for shopping in Paris by looking at the Monoprix site. I was--sort of--interested in some slouchy pants (Eileen Fisher type, 20 euros) and some knit linen pieces (also Eileen Fisher-esque, 20-25 euros). I was planning to wait for the sales near the end of my stay.

Shopping was jumpstarted, however: after a stressful delay and dash for our connection at JFK, we made it...but our luggage did not. AirFrance offered us 100 euros per person for necessities. Of course, this involved saving receipts and sending in paperwork after return.

Wearing our scuzzy clothing for a day after arrival (luggage showed up after 3 days) encouraged us to take up the offer, even though I tend to distrust such offers, having been burned many times before. In we went to Monoprix where we each spent a hundred euros: Mr FS on some jeans and a linen shirt and a hairbrush and me on the slouchy pants and some linen pieces.  We still haven't gotten the money back (though it is supposedly en route, after many hours on the phone...usual bureaucracies).

Two weeks later, les soldes began and everything we bought was 1/2 off. So I bought ANOTHER pair of slouchy pants and some scarves. Miss Em arrived and we bought her some things too. She's been in Serbia longer than anticipated and her clothing is in rags.

Our only other shopping was at a nearby market (rue de la Convention--not a fancy area). We got Miss Em a vegan bag  for 35 euros (how I hate that term) that closely approximated a leather bag she saw in Vienna that was 300 euros. The seller was the quintessential French man. He said to Miss Em (add heavy accent) "I would like to give you a kiss. Not a French kiss, because your parents are there." 

At the same market was a vendor where there were a zillion people. Miss Em and I investigated: Spanx! Miss Em and I joined the fray and got some bras for 10 euros (not sexy ones, comfy ones).

Then we started a fray of our own. In a big vat of assorted tee shirts (2 for 5 euros!), I spied a Majestic tee (these sell for around 90 euros). I started searching. A French woman behind me saw what I had and said to her companion: "Majestic!" Then they started frantically searching. Suddenly, we were surrounded.

Mr FS asked Miss Em what was going on. She said proudly "Mama started it." Miss Em decided she didn't like the Majestic so we put them back. 

I had a nice chat with two women at the market. The first was French: she practiced her English; I practiced my French. I asked her if one could bargain at the market. She said non. Then I spoke to a French-American woman who seemed to be a Spanx addict. She had an extremely-plastic-surgeried face, a rare sight in Paris--at least at the places I go. She also said that one could not bargain at the markets.

I had a nice encounter with the Spanx-guy. He was unsure if I knew the difference between HAUT (tops--10 euros) and BAS (bottoms--8 euros). He asked me in French and English. Then I said in my perfect English: "My English is better than my French." I followed with the same sentence in my faulty French and received many compliments.

Since the exchange rate was so good I did take a look at Longchamp le pliage bags (78 euros vs $150 back home, even cheaper on the ugly summer sale colors) but decided to get a lower cost per wear on the one I already own.

That's it! There are ecstatic posts all over the internet on how cheap Hermes and other luxury brands are for US travelers now. Still, the thought of schlepping back a bunch of stuff gives me pause. I find shopping abroad a stressful activity in any case. Besides, I always want to start saving for the one really big ticket item on my list: plane fare for the next trip.

Do you shop when you travel?