Petite bon. Pretty bon. Small good. Pretty good.
And then came Leni--at least that is what I am calling her--the cat with one hundred names. Mitch calls her Pettibon (which is good too). I saw her a few weeks ago lounging atop a mountain of old red luggage in the window display of this pretty vintage shop in my neighborhood. I was out with Leo at the time and we stopped dead when I saw her staring back at me. This shop is run by a kind woman with kind friends. They all have kind eyes and they all foster cats (because there are a million on the loose in this town). It is nice to know a lot of these creatures have warm homes and full bellies because people open their personal homes and shops. I like the concept. This little thing is called Katie at the moment, but it really isn't her. She looks tough, even though she is small and long. She has medium length hair in dark dark grey with a light grey bit that hides underneath like a mystery. Mitch and I walked to Bernard Street to pay her and Dadette (the foster mama) a visit in and amongst the million wool sweaters and long skirts and hats. She liked us and we were approved.
We might have a cat soon! I am excited; this self proclaimed despiser of felines. I am very excited to watch her slink around the growing mountain of long bodies, half stuffed limbs and thread for miles. She'll like it here I think.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Margot Polo Presents.
One paw in a bag of my grandmother's cookies (oatmeal raisin) and another resting against a freshly sewn leg lying on top of its partner's busted knee. While the Doll Factory is not quite ready for business, it is open at last. Today the doors swung wide at the sight of a pretty Singer sitting in a row of ladies. It was the first machine that called me.
Singer Stylist 522.
The machine itself is my favorite color (winter white) and it sounds very nice when in operation. It was sold with a beautiful little sewing table complete with a wooden top that parts like a hairline with arms that swing on hinges when opened. It has a little angled drawer for bobbins and pin cushions and tapes and little things like that. It is very beautiful on it's bowed legs (like a Great Dane named Lee Ronaldo) with the quiet bevels. At the time, I was traipsing up St. Laurent with my parents after a heavy smoked meat, dill pickle, spicy pepper, mustard, fried chips meal when we passed the sewing shop that I have been prowling restlessly and pennilessly for weeks now. I am sure the employees took me for a shoplifter up until today.
Christmas come early to Montreal. Thanks ma and pa, this is really the best gift I have ever received.
I just made a Lady Long Bod for the first time in a long time. I have some serious troubleshooting to do, some extensive research and a whole lot more experimentation in the cards before these things are ready. But I am on my way! Ohhhhhhh, stuffing a tiny leg never felt so good.
Coming soon to all, an Etsy store called Margot Polo Presents consisting of a line of dolls: Lady Long Bodies with their long limbs and soft hearts, and Lucy Goosies, pretty fowl friends; prints, paintings and books. Time to get serious. Mom and Dad, thanks a million. Everyone, feel free to place your bets and your orders (soon). Also, let it be known that I laughed aloud at myself this evening when I realized (after far too much work) that it is nearly impossible to turn an inside out doughnut inside right. Learning curve. I have a healthy bit to learn.
One more also, it feels wonderful to share my new city with my parents. Today we cruised St. Laurent, ate some Schwartz's, walked around, did some shopping for babies, home, shoulders, feet, living rooms and our tables. I almost forgot how fun it is to shop with my ma.
Party time. Speaking of time, it is time to hit the hay. The photo below inspires me in lots of ways (and to open the windows more).
Singer Stylist 522.
The machine itself is my favorite color (winter white) and it sounds very nice when in operation. It was sold with a beautiful little sewing table complete with a wooden top that parts like a hairline with arms that swing on hinges when opened. It has a little angled drawer for bobbins and pin cushions and tapes and little things like that. It is very beautiful on it's bowed legs (like a Great Dane named Lee Ronaldo) with the quiet bevels. At the time, I was traipsing up St. Laurent with my parents after a heavy smoked meat, dill pickle, spicy pepper, mustard, fried chips meal when we passed the sewing shop that I have been prowling restlessly and pennilessly for weeks now. I am sure the employees took me for a shoplifter up until today.
Christmas come early to Montreal. Thanks ma and pa, this is really the best gift I have ever received.
I just made a Lady Long Bod for the first time in a long time. I have some serious troubleshooting to do, some extensive research and a whole lot more experimentation in the cards before these things are ready. But I am on my way! Ohhhhhhh, stuffing a tiny leg never felt so good.
Coming soon to all, an Etsy store called Margot Polo Presents consisting of a line of dolls: Lady Long Bodies with their long limbs and soft hearts, and Lucy Goosies, pretty fowl friends; prints, paintings and books. Time to get serious. Mom and Dad, thanks a million. Everyone, feel free to place your bets and your orders (soon). Also, let it be known that I laughed aloud at myself this evening when I realized (after far too much work) that it is nearly impossible to turn an inside out doughnut inside right. Learning curve. I have a healthy bit to learn.
One more also, it feels wonderful to share my new city with my parents. Today we cruised St. Laurent, ate some Schwartz's, walked around, did some shopping for babies, home, shoulders, feet, living rooms and our tables. I almost forgot how fun it is to shop with my ma.
Party time. Speaking of time, it is time to hit the hay. The photo below inspires me in lots of ways (and to open the windows more).
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Peter and Margot.
A man walks into the room with a haircut. Nice haircut. Thanks. The light is low and round, hanging from a silk scarfed pendant. The light blinks through the horses in the print. The dancing makes her think of a certain unborn child, busy and content just growing in there; all tucked in. The man brings her back as he moves in beside her. Hello. Hello. I like what you did with the lamp. The soft light on the haircut. I like what you did with the hair. Thanks. Me too. Good.
We're back.
It feels good to be at home today. Tucked in. Tucked in. Tucked in. There is something about this colorful weather (a new type that is easier to describe by color and feel than anything else) that pleases me. It feels nice to be in that smooth shift again, I am swiveling back into an old self, a comfortable and relaxed version of myself. It feels like putting on a great coat. There is nothing better than a great coat, no matter what the style.
I had an old yellow slicker on my hands last year in the early fall after the first season of planting. I think it was Zach's, I am not sure, but now it is gone. I had been living at Mel and Zach's beautiful home with the red kitchen at the time and for some reason, I wore that yellow rubber coat with the yellow corduroy cuffs and collar perfect for cold snot wiping everyday. It felt so good to put on, the rubber lying on top of layers and layers of soft wool. Oh yeah, I really like the cold (even though I complain and winge) deep down.
Fall is an exciting time for fashion.
New paragraph. That statement stands alone. My wardrobe is droopy. I seem to have jumped off a ship and lost a tonne of my baggage because my closet is sliiiiiiiim pickin's. Cheers to losing baggage. Wash your hands of it. (I am learning this as if new everyday). Anyway, I like wearing strong things, I trust myself, if anything else, and I trust myself in those clothes. I have this one jacket. Long and loose with the tightest woven thread that make up this wild floral pattern against the prettiest blue backdrop. It really is a gorgeous coat (too cold to wear it now), and I always feel great in that jacket. It also took two attempts to purchase. I initially saw it as a set at Ragpickers somewhere in the Housecoat section (housecoats make the best jackets and the selection is always amazing). It called me.
Coat and dress. Sixties. 41 dollars. Okay, the matching dress was totally insane and I knew how it would hang on my girls. I didn't need the dress. I needed the jacket. So I took it off it's partner and brought it to the front. I was stoned and charming and asked if I could buy it as a separate. She was a young turd with a bubblegum mouth and said no. Shoot that mouth right off. Okay. I stormed home across the street from Ragpickers when I had the privilege to live in the Exchange for a cool minute and so on. A few weeks later, I went back and a different woman was working. I like her, whoever she is. I usually hit up Ragpickers when I am feeling droopy--hats and the little gloves--and she is usually the one to ring me up. The last thing I bought from her (I imagine her name is Jenn, double N Jenn, she has a look) was the headpiece I will wear on my wedding day. Anyway, I brought the coat over and asked again and she not only said of course, she also let me name my price. Which was genius. That coat was worth three hundred dollars to me. I paid twenty because that is all I had in my wallet. No tax, fuck yah. She is cool. That is what cool is. She even made me wear it home.
Alright, my parents are flying towards me right now. I am going to run to catch the metro at Place Des Art so I can meet them. Shoot. Gotta run. Fast!
Mergs.
Post script in italics for feeling. Dear Rags, after reading one letter from you and writing back, I walked home through the rain thinking of you in the grey room. Grey day. Then I unlocked my mailbox and there was another letter with a stencil of my address (stencils are the best). Holy cow, what a great day. Merci one million.
We're back.
It feels good to be at home today. Tucked in. Tucked in. Tucked in. There is something about this colorful weather (a new type that is easier to describe by color and feel than anything else) that pleases me. It feels nice to be in that smooth shift again, I am swiveling back into an old self, a comfortable and relaxed version of myself. It feels like putting on a great coat. There is nothing better than a great coat, no matter what the style.
I had an old yellow slicker on my hands last year in the early fall after the first season of planting. I think it was Zach's, I am not sure, but now it is gone. I had been living at Mel and Zach's beautiful home with the red kitchen at the time and for some reason, I wore that yellow rubber coat with the yellow corduroy cuffs and collar perfect for cold snot wiping everyday. It felt so good to put on, the rubber lying on top of layers and layers of soft wool. Oh yeah, I really like the cold (even though I complain and winge) deep down.
Fall is an exciting time for fashion.
New paragraph. That statement stands alone. My wardrobe is droopy. I seem to have jumped off a ship and lost a tonne of my baggage because my closet is sliiiiiiiim pickin's. Cheers to losing baggage. Wash your hands of it. (I am learning this as if new everyday). Anyway, I like wearing strong things, I trust myself, if anything else, and I trust myself in those clothes. I have this one jacket. Long and loose with the tightest woven thread that make up this wild floral pattern against the prettiest blue backdrop. It really is a gorgeous coat (too cold to wear it now), and I always feel great in that jacket. It also took two attempts to purchase. I initially saw it as a set at Ragpickers somewhere in the Housecoat section (housecoats make the best jackets and the selection is always amazing). It called me.
Coat and dress. Sixties. 41 dollars. Okay, the matching dress was totally insane and I knew how it would hang on my girls. I didn't need the dress. I needed the jacket. So I took it off it's partner and brought it to the front. I was stoned and charming and asked if I could buy it as a separate. She was a young turd with a bubblegum mouth and said no. Shoot that mouth right off. Okay. I stormed home across the street from Ragpickers when I had the privilege to live in the Exchange for a cool minute and so on. A few weeks later, I went back and a different woman was working. I like her, whoever she is. I usually hit up Ragpickers when I am feeling droopy--hats and the little gloves--and she is usually the one to ring me up. The last thing I bought from her (I imagine her name is Jenn, double N Jenn, she has a look) was the headpiece I will wear on my wedding day. Anyway, I brought the coat over and asked again and she not only said of course, she also let me name my price. Which was genius. That coat was worth three hundred dollars to me. I paid twenty because that is all I had in my wallet. No tax, fuck yah. She is cool. That is what cool is. She even made me wear it home.
Alright, my parents are flying towards me right now. I am going to run to catch the metro at Place Des Art so I can meet them. Shoot. Gotta run. Fast!
Mergs.
Post script in italics for feeling. Dear Rags, after reading one letter from you and writing back, I walked home through the rain thinking of you in the grey room. Grey day. Then I unlocked my mailbox and there was another letter with a stencil of my address (stencils are the best). Holy cow, what a great day. Merci one million.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Bread basket for one.
Bread day today. Three pieces of toast (peanut butter and butter and peanut butter and honey) in the morning and two bagels for lunch. Giles swung by Leo's house after he finished his lunch (yogurt cheeks with pea hair and a veal beard again) and after bundling the boychild we walked over to Club Social and got coffees in tall skinny glasses and sat outside with our faces craned towards the sun. Sweet fall warmth.
Leo sat quietly, preoccupied with a myriad of strange contents from within the bowels of my Milk bag. What a kid. When the sun tucked in just enough to feel cold again, we left our empty glasses behind in search of a spot bathed in direct sunlight. Yesterday we sat in a park on Prince-Arthur sandwiched between St. Laurent and St. Denis eating (my very first) Schwartz's smoked meat sandwiches in the sun. Delicious, delicious, delicious. Today we sat eating hot sesame bagels from Fairmount Bagels talking about life. At one point, this soft beauty turned to me in all her silk and said, "you live here".
I know. YuhdunnevenKNA. I know. It is a pretty nice place to live, especially when I get to chow down on a hot bagel with a loved one. First came Mitch's mama, then Mike, and then Sula and Rags, and now Jillian. We have been blessed with a stream of great company thus far. This time spent with her has been so good, so fulfilling, reassuring, adventurous, hysterical. The list is forever long. It felt so good to go into a shop with one of my best girls today, stroller et al and try on the best damn pair of jeans I have ever seen. The search for my right pair is OVER! Hallelujah. I saw them and I just knew. Black, leather, chain. Woooooh hoo hoo baby. Super sass to the max. Speaking of which, R Rouge and I dolled up after a quick sprint around the neighborhood last night for the opening of our pal Nick's photo exhibit. It was beautiful--his work so soft and so technical. Clinical almost, in the clean sense of art. It was an interesting mix of people at the opening and Jill and I met some wonderful people to share a round of beers with after the show. It felt nice to leave the house in a long striped dress with smart shoes and a sleek 'do.
Leo is sleeping bum up, face down. I just made sure he was breathing. He is.
Hot sugar tea with milk, perfect beverage for the weather today. Montreal has been wonderfully bright and crisp as the last of the leaves cling and finally shake loose giving way for the winter. I am excited for a new look. New jeans, new look, new routine, new town, new friend, new outlook. My parents are coming tomorrow! La la la, I am so giddy just thinking of all of the things we will eat! Coffees and jewish patries (the petit pain au chocolat are pleasurable), smoked meat sandwiches, oysters, bagels by the half dozen, cheese, bread, breakfast, Mitch's famous pasta on Friday night! We might even visit Quebec City.
Good space Margot today. This is a photo taken inside of the children's big top at the Winnipeg Folk Festival. I love capturing dads and their babies.
Leo sat quietly, preoccupied with a myriad of strange contents from within the bowels of my Milk bag. What a kid. When the sun tucked in just enough to feel cold again, we left our empty glasses behind in search of a spot bathed in direct sunlight. Yesterday we sat in a park on Prince-Arthur sandwiched between St. Laurent and St. Denis eating (my very first) Schwartz's smoked meat sandwiches in the sun. Delicious, delicious, delicious. Today we sat eating hot sesame bagels from Fairmount Bagels talking about life. At one point, this soft beauty turned to me in all her silk and said, "you live here".
I know. YuhdunnevenKNA. I know. It is a pretty nice place to live, especially when I get to chow down on a hot bagel with a loved one. First came Mitch's mama, then Mike, and then Sula and Rags, and now Jillian. We have been blessed with a stream of great company thus far. This time spent with her has been so good, so fulfilling, reassuring, adventurous, hysterical. The list is forever long. It felt so good to go into a shop with one of my best girls today, stroller et al and try on the best damn pair of jeans I have ever seen. The search for my right pair is OVER! Hallelujah. I saw them and I just knew. Black, leather, chain. Woooooh hoo hoo baby. Super sass to the max. Speaking of which, R Rouge and I dolled up after a quick sprint around the neighborhood last night for the opening of our pal Nick's photo exhibit. It was beautiful--his work so soft and so technical. Clinical almost, in the clean sense of art. It was an interesting mix of people at the opening and Jill and I met some wonderful people to share a round of beers with after the show. It felt nice to leave the house in a long striped dress with smart shoes and a sleek 'do.
Leo is sleeping bum up, face down. I just made sure he was breathing. He is.
Hot sugar tea with milk, perfect beverage for the weather today. Montreal has been wonderfully bright and crisp as the last of the leaves cling and finally shake loose giving way for the winter. I am excited for a new look. New jeans, new look, new routine, new town, new friend, new outlook. My parents are coming tomorrow! La la la, I am so giddy just thinking of all of the things we will eat! Coffees and jewish patries (the petit pain au chocolat are pleasurable), smoked meat sandwiches, oysters, bagels by the half dozen, cheese, bread, breakfast, Mitch's famous pasta on Friday night! We might even visit Quebec City.
Good space Margot today. This is a photo taken inside of the children's big top at the Winnipeg Folk Festival. I love capturing dads and their babies.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Closed for good.
The old Face is dead and gone.
Facebook that is. Yesterday, after an enlightening three piece conversation with Mitch and Giles, I decided to turn off, close shop, check out, shut 'er down, and delete my account for good. What change can occur with a simple little shift in mentality. I have been looking to make a healthy change in my life for a few months now and this seems to be a good start. I am tired of hanging on (to what good?) and scouring pages for tidbits and pretty photos (I can go to the library). I am tired of publicizing and being publicized. Tired of eating up unnecessary and overshared information (for what good?).
The idea of social networking via the internet as a whole is quite a strange concept and the more thought invested into this subject specifically, the less interested I become.
I will miss seeing the baby photos though. Weird, I know, but I will. I trust Tiny Moms and Lisa will email the best ones (of babes Chili and Ribbons) to old Aunty Meg's uncool hotmail account. Thanks guys.
I much prefer the post. Nothing beats coming home to a tangible letter. Yesterday I received a great one from MJ (who recently told me she decided to challenge herself to writing actual letters to people she cares about for the first time in her life). Similar to MJ, I am hoping this decision will be a good personal challenge and am quite curious to see what comes to fruition in the spaces of time that I normally spend perched in front of a screen cruising through party pics (well, you know). I don't live in Winnipeg anymore, time to face the facts. I live in Montreal; time to step outside and meet some people.
Short sentences today. I don't have much to say on the subject now that it is finished. Let it be known that I will continue to write letters and emails as I used to (maybe even more so now that I won't be logging into the Face four to ten million times per day), I will continue to upload photos a la my Flickr account, and I will continue to maintain this very post (come to think of it, it is nearly time for a new one altogether) as it has been and continues to be a great writing outlet and exercise for my brain.
Also, Giles has landed. Last night we went for a very long metropolitan adventure run in our matching Running Room gear, winding through the core of Montreal's downtown. We ended up at a tiny joint tucked behind Concordia where we stuffed our faces with Zatar, pizza and diet pepsi for old time's sake. I missed her so. It is amazing how such a highly anticipated visit of pure quality and comfort like this one can feel so normal while it unfolds before us. It felt so normal to run beside her, darting crazy angles through throngs of people just to chase all the green lights. It felt real good.
I feel better already. Thanks for reading.
Megs
Facebook that is. Yesterday, after an enlightening three piece conversation with Mitch and Giles, I decided to turn off, close shop, check out, shut 'er down, and delete my account for good. What change can occur with a simple little shift in mentality. I have been looking to make a healthy change in my life for a few months now and this seems to be a good start. I am tired of hanging on (to what good?) and scouring pages for tidbits and pretty photos (I can go to the library). I am tired of publicizing and being publicized. Tired of eating up unnecessary and overshared information (for what good?).
The idea of social networking via the internet as a whole is quite a strange concept and the more thought invested into this subject specifically, the less interested I become.
I will miss seeing the baby photos though. Weird, I know, but I will. I trust Tiny Moms and Lisa will email the best ones (of babes Chili and Ribbons) to old Aunty Meg's uncool hotmail account. Thanks guys.
I much prefer the post. Nothing beats coming home to a tangible letter. Yesterday I received a great one from MJ (who recently told me she decided to challenge herself to writing actual letters to people she cares about for the first time in her life). Similar to MJ, I am hoping this decision will be a good personal challenge and am quite curious to see what comes to fruition in the spaces of time that I normally spend perched in front of a screen cruising through party pics (well, you know). I don't live in Winnipeg anymore, time to face the facts. I live in Montreal; time to step outside and meet some people.
Short sentences today. I don't have much to say on the subject now that it is finished. Let it be known that I will continue to write letters and emails as I used to (maybe even more so now that I won't be logging into the Face four to ten million times per day), I will continue to upload photos a la my Flickr account, and I will continue to maintain this very post (come to think of it, it is nearly time for a new one altogether) as it has been and continues to be a great writing outlet and exercise for my brain.
Also, Giles has landed. Last night we went for a very long metropolitan adventure run in our matching Running Room gear, winding through the core of Montreal's downtown. We ended up at a tiny joint tucked behind Concordia where we stuffed our faces with Zatar, pizza and diet pepsi for old time's sake. I missed her so. It is amazing how such a highly anticipated visit of pure quality and comfort like this one can feel so normal while it unfolds before us. It felt so normal to run beside her, darting crazy angles through throngs of people just to chase all the green lights. It felt real good.
I feel better already. Thanks for reading.
Megs
Monday, November 1, 2010
Fruit basket upset.
Some large portraits and the like. Big ups to Danika for the photo know-how, I was a lost lamb until she came along. Mercy. Merci!
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