Photographer: Bethany Walter | Frivolous Universe

Once upon a Story, Story Night

By: Bethany Walter

02-12-2011

There was a graphic designer who was hired for her first career job at a small, creative marketing firm. She got to dream up and create things such as filming a dog and pony show to showcase the company’s portfolio. Life was pretty good.

Then one day a copywriter in a light brown dress with shoulder length, curly hair and a bicycle helmet on entered the firm’s doors smiling. Her laughter was magnetic, warm and inviting. Her name was Jessica Holmes. The designer knew instantly she wanted Jessica and her to be good friends.

Four years later, after another successful evening of Story, Story Night, the designer is wearing ochre tights (Target: $5) and celebrating that friendship with Jessica, and the ones that have followed in her wake.

Jessica attracts talented, passionate and goodhearted people. Because of this, the designer has met many new friends. This dress is a Target hand-me-down from one of those generous and creative souls, Kelly Lynae, a woman with a mesmerizing singing and writing voice. Bottoming out this outfit are chocolate velvet, high heeled shoes from a thrift store, $5-6.

It is hard to tell what is going on in this photo, but you should know Kelly is wearing something epic and she might be sharing it with you on Monday.

The wooden necklace was a Christmas gift from last year. The green turquoise the designer may never take off is antique Navajo silver jewelry given to her by her mom.

This is the designer’s date, another gifted and talented friend of Jessica’s. He’s a conceptual artist whose paintings are inspired by introspection and social analysis. His name is Marcus Pierce and he is a keeper. Largely because he waited around for a long time while the designer shot photos of the FU ladies.

Thank you Jessica, for changing and enriching this designer’s life. I hope there is no end to this story.

Anna, I love these photos you took of me.
AND . . . Happy Birthday Kelly!!!

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Full Plate

By: Jessica Holmes

01-12-2011

Jessica

Once upon a time there was a laid-off girl with a little side project. See, before the epic fails and falls of late 2008 she was a copywriter for an advertising agency. She would sit in her hip desk tapping on her hip Mac and think about the empty something cushioning her life. When “let go,” she was nothing but relieved. She could live on the cheap, and really figure it out. You know, life.

Instead, she had a side project. A little storytelling thing. Where people come to tell true (and vulnerable and surprising) stories on a theme. Live on stage and without notes. Like The Moth. So after months of creative daydreams and planning sessions, Story Story Night was born. And ka-f*cking-boom. Unprecedented crazy magic. With sold-out audiences of 300/400+ every month.

And it’s my baby. My little wunderkind. And officially full-tilt out of my control. But still overwhelmingly in my hands. This is officially a full plate situation people.

So that was our theme for November 28, FULL PLATE: Stories of Biting Off More Than You Can Chew. I am the host (as well as the artistic & marketing director / driving force) behind Story Story Night. As you know by now, frivolous etiquette dictates the host should step it up big time, with a touch of bad assery. You are supposed to stand out. With ka-f*cking booms of surprise and delight.

I dress for the theme. Usually, I’ll have the vision for the outfit a month or so in advance. For FULL PLATE, seriously, how could I not embody the wonder of this Semplice embroidered and sequins peacock black lambswool and angora rabbit hair sweater ($5, thrift store)? With, to bite off more than I could chew perhaps, this CoryLynnCalter black waist high sequins skirt ($18, thrift store).

Over the top? Thank you very much. Especially paired with these posh tights leftover from Thanksgiving (and Nordstram’s Rack in Portland), and Enzo Angiolini black velvet and gold pumps ($7, thrift store).

Eat it up. Seriously. Once upon a time clothes were made to be delicious and you can buy them for about 500 pennies. Then fly away. Just take out the shoulder pads. Forged metal earrings ($3, thrift store).

The whole outfit matches my tattoo that was inspired by the brilliant freedom and wonder and danger that is my aftermath of this fall. I call it the infinity awesome pen bird (Chalice Tattoo).

Looks like I’m fading away into the background though, which happens to be the posh wine bar at Red Feather, the site of our new Story Story Afterparty. Until next time, and next theme.

Thanks Bethany Walter for the photos. You’re my laid-off work spouse for life.

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ATTACK OF THE 50 FT. WOMAN! (aka Return of the killer heels)

By: Kim Philley

29-11-2011

Kim

Until recently I lived in a country whose denizens tend to hover a couple inches north of five feet. I stand 5”11 in my stocking feet. When I wear heels I am RuPaul tall. Cyclops tall. Throw in a little peroxide and gird me in buckskin, and I’m Daryl Hannah in Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman.

Wooden snake bracelet: inherited from my mother

Big leather belt: borrowed from my aunt

Silk dress: Dué Per Dué (thrift store)

One of the first phrases I learned in Cambodia was khapoous nah! : Khmer for “really freakin’ tall.” Cries of khapoous nah! syncopated my walks through Phnom Penh’s open-air markets. Afterwards, I had plenty of time to consider khapoous nah’s meaning as I iced my forehead, invariably having clobbered it on a low-hanging tarp pole.

My favorite pair of earrings: tourist shop (Luang Prabang, Laos)

Ankle boot with patent leather heel: Cole Haan (Dillard’s)

Black semi-opaque tights: Calvin Klein (Marshall’s)

In Southeast Asia, I tend not to wear high heels to avoid decapitation, and as a public service to small children. One night in Phnom Penh I was on the prowl for a bottle of Bordeaux to bring to a dinner party, and so I made a pit-stop at the grocery store in my Cole Haan ankle boots. As I rounded the corner out of the wine aisle, I wheeled into a mother and child in the freezer section. The little girl grabbed her mother’s hand and craned her chubby face skyward. Her lips wobbled; her eyes widened. I stood my ground like a giant, solemn Easter Island head.