We haven’t had many Monarch butterflies in the garden this year – or maybe we have and I just haven’t been outside as much to notice. Both may be true. This week there were a couple of them flitting about the aptly-named butterfly bush as Andy and I enjoyed a couple of last swims before the pool season comes to a close. They danced in what remained of the summer sun and the suddenly-cooler breeze. Perhaps they were just waiting for the perfect weather. Beauty and warnings abound.
My friend Elizabeth introduced me to Jason Kramer via a Madonna social media post, which is how the best people meet each other. I checked out his charming website here and was instantly inspired by someone who has turned their passion into a career, enough so that Jason earns his first Dazzler of the Day crowning. Don’t take my cumbersome words for it, here’s an excerpt from his website that does a much better job explaining how he made his journey from theatre-lover to costume designer and more:
My fascination with the magic of Theatre began when my parents took me to a production of Peter Pan at 7 years old. I remember noticing that Peter’s “shadow” was made of a sheer fabric; that there was a wire helping him and the Darling children fly; that Tinker-bell was actually a tiny little spotlight that was definitely not kept alive by the power of my applause.
None of those realizations detracted from the magic—what they did do was ignite a creative spark in my brain. I knew that I was going to be one of the people who makes magic. Fast forward to California State University, Long Beach. This is where I started to learn about storytelling through Costume design. As a Costume Designer, I have a unique relationship with the characters I’m designing for. I get to use my tools to share our special bond with the audience. I get to speak to the audience about the world in which the characters inhabit, their innermost thoughts, feelings, relationships and experiences through the subliminal language of costume design.
I find great satisfaction in the collaborative process of design and do my best to instill joy and passion in every project I am a part of. I am inspired by costume history, Old Hollywood glamour, and contemporary fashion design. I find immense pleasure in creating detailed and expressive design that not only informs the viewer, but perhaps inspires the emerging magic-makers of the future.
Besides costume design, I feel the most powerful when I’m drawing—I’ve been doing it since I could hold a pencil! I also love to drink fancy coffee beverages, and binge murder mystery TV series and old seasons of Rupaul’s Drag Race. I believe dogs are the greatest gift ever bestowed upon humankind, and little boys should play with dolls and wear dresses if they want to. I also love pizza and tacos.
Currently, I’m living in Ashland, Oregon with my husband and two cats, Trixie and Pepper. I’d love to work with you—whether I’m designing costumes for a production, working as a Design Assistant, or bringing your designs to life via digital illustration, I’m here to bring excellence, passion, and JOY. ~ Jason Kramer
The last week of August has come and gone. It was an emotional doozy, one that required a lunch-time treat of the pistachio ricotta cake as seen below, but this blog runs on autopilot so that’s what it did. As summer winds down outside, this website continues on its journey. To that end, here is the weekly recap.
Pharmacists are the happiest people.
It really is a confusing time.
Gratuitous clickbait in the form of shirtless male celebrities.
Dazzlers of the Day include Kaelan Strouse and Naomi Osaka.
Greeting September with a swim is the best way to remind the month that it is still summer, and it will be even after Labor Day is over tomorrow. School may begin (sorry kids!) but summer continues, and the pool remains open and heated. Donning trunks of coquette cherries (and leaving the Speedo to the Olympians) I step into the warm water, remembering… or trying to remember.
Swimming is different in September, in the same way the light is different. It comes with the constant threat of cold – something that doesn’t happen in July or August. No matter how warm the water is, or even the air on a sunny day like today was, you get the feeling that you are right on the verge of being cold, like it might suddenly turn chilly and you’ll have to rush inside.
On this day, a pleasantly sunny throwback to the sunny days that this summer was kind enough to grant us, I swim in relative silence. The insects are buzzing and humming, and the air conditioner mumbles in the distance, but mostly it is quiet. There is no coquette music playing, no kids screaming and laughing. It is the end of summer and it happens in silence.
The water is still too, matching the quiet. Even as I paddle into the deep end, the waves seem less rowdy, less active than they did a few weeks ago. Summer’s wind-down can’t help but be a little melancholy.
The wind dances along the treetops, while the bees flit among the blooms of the seven sons flower tree. When the pool first opened, we swam beneath the blooms of the cherry tree – this is a more fragrant, though less showy, bookend of floral splendor. The promise of September coming soon has been answered with quiet confirmation.
While the morning glory typically signifies the end of summer, this pink variety harkens to the early days of our coquette season. For the first day of September, this pink morning glory bridges our coquette theme with the continuation of summer, marking its final weeks while gently preparing the way for fall. Apologies – I shouldn’t even use the f-word when most of September is still technically summer. To that end, let’s head outside into the sun for another summer Sunday… while it lasts.
Some birthdays are quiet, as if biding their time until some more spectacular number. That was certainly the case with my 49th, which was sent just with Andy on a quiet late summer weekend in Boston. The weather was the greatest gift – sunny skies, but not too warm, with nights perfectly comfortable for walking home. We arrived on Friday night, and all of Southwest Corridor Park was in bloom to greet us – starting with this lovely red rose.
The park has been giving a gorgeous show all summer, and it shoed no sign of slowing down, unlike the gardens at home. It felt more like the height of summer rather than the start of the final month of festivities. There were just enough puffy clouds in the sky to make for a beautiful overhead.
Oe the eve of my birthday, I’d gotten Andy tickets to see Kristin Chenoweth’s new star vehicle, ‘The Queen of Versailles’ at the Emerson Colonial Theatre, where it was making its pre-Broadway run. Ms. Chenoweth soared, and there was praise in the material – a few judicious cuts here, a little letting out there, and there may be magic headed to the Great White Way.
My birthday itself was mostly a calm and quiet affair, with Andy providing the exquisite ‘Angeliques Sous La Pluie’ by Jean-Claude Ellena for Frederic Malle, which has been on my wish list for years. It was a fitting choice, as this one reminds me of summer evenings in Boston from long ago, when I would wear a sample of it when I needed something light for the heat.
We took several strolls through the Boston Public Garden, which is always our favorite haunt, and ended up stopping for brunch at a place overlooking the garden. Without a plan, without fanfare, without a printed agenda, my birthday was mostly winging it with my husband, and I couldn’t have planned a happier day.
We meandered through the garden, exiting near the duckling statues and walking through Beacon Hill. I found a birthday hat to greet the fall (more on that later…) and, more thrillingly, managed to find the elusive peach ice cream that Suzie and Chris had failed to procure time and time again.
After dining at Wink & Nod later in the evening, Andy and I walked back to the condo through a gorgeous clear night, and if I have to face a 49th year on this wretched planet, at least I can do it where beauty is still a balm, and love is still in the air.
This is only a partial clickbait-and-switch, as I am offering the draw of Jeremy Allen White in his underwear but also supplying a couple of links of more of him dazzling in this post– so there is some substance behind the prettiness. Take a moment and click on those links to get your fill of the bulging Jeremy Allen White, and scroll down this delicious bulge listing, then come back and join us for the real reason for this post: a celebration of August.
I haven’t felt very joyful these past few weeks, which is typical near the end of summer and the passing of another birthday. It also sets a very questionable stage for the fall season here on ALANILAGAN.com. Our coquette summer is coming to its inevitable close, and it is time. The contrast between what is about to be unleashed here is profound. Perhaps a bit jarring. Day and night. Brace for whiplash, because if I’m not ready for this jelly, you are definitely not ready for this jelly.
Before that, here’s a quick recap or recaps for anyone who wants to attempt making sense out of the past month’s trajectory. I certainly can’t, but I’m in it. It’s impossible to see the forest through the trees.
August 2024 – Week the Second.
August 2024 – Week the Fourth.
Fading like the end of August fades, a candle is barely discernible as pink in its solitary light. The final faint whispers of a coquette summer rustle along a night breeze – how it slipped away so quickly is the saddest recurring mystery. On this last day of August, here is another song to keep the summer going – this time from our early summer pal Mitski. It wasn’t on any of our previous summer coquette playlists, and while I don’t have a fourth one in the offing, there is still time for a song or two before the summer finally departs.
I’m beautiful, I know cause it’s the season But what am I to do with all this beauty? Biology, I am an organism, I’m chemical That’s all, that is all I’m liquid smooth, come touch me, too And feel my skin is plump and full of life I’m in my prime I’m liquid smooth, come touch me, too I’m at my highest peak, I’m ripe About to fall, capture me Or at least take my picture
Echoing this fun post with a feline twist, here we have another jab at all those weirdos with a hugely unjustified persecution complex.
Proving that this beautiful brat summer of 2024 is not quite over, Naomi Osaka donned this spectacular green ruffled tennis outfit for her opening volley of the US Open, and in my mind this kicks open the door of some fun and fine fashion finally being worn on the tennis court. She easily won her set, so it doesn’t seem to impede her skills in the least, and for being brave in this and so many other ways, she earns her first Dazzler of the Day crowning.
The increasingly-tumultuous weather we’ve had of late has coaxed a couple of azaleas into bloom, far from their typical blooming season. The throwback to spring is bittersweet given the late hour of this summer, but I paused to look at this anomaly, enjoying memories of when it all began. Spring feels very distant. Summer does too, even if we’re still in it.
There is danger here, especially if these buds were intended for next spring. I would never rob the future for a momentary jolt of pleasure in the present.
Seeing co-workers in the office elevator: not a nod of recognition.
Seeing co-workers in a random store: hi bestie!!!
The garden has been quietly busy of late, with our cup plants and butterfly bush providing fertile feeding and pollinating ground for the birds and bees and a hummingbird as seen here. Both continue in their long blooming period, allowing for enjoyment by these visitors that will last through the start of winter. The bees and insects will depart first for the season, then the hummingbirds will go – only the finches will keep coming back into the slumber time.
The gardens have been wanting to go to sleep for a while now. I stopped fertilizing and feeding them a few weeks ago. Once the ostrich ferns take that turn to brown, it is senseless to try to keep things going and growing. The only things I keep feeding are the container plants, as they will require the nutrients for as long as we want them to be presentable. Let us not be too quick to overlook the importance of these plants in the fall. Cool nights don’t mean an instant end to the pageantry. Not yet…
In the meantime, the birds and the bees are still humming along…
A rustling and a scuffle, held high above the ground where such things usually take place, drew my attention to the crux of the Eastern white pine and a coral bark Japanese maple tree. A pair of squirrels quarreled or played in the arms of the latter, sending a few maple leaves fluttering to the floor, before they charged into the feathery planes of the pine boughs. What could have caused such a tussle? The curiosity into the lives of squirrels takes me blessedly out of the day, and anything that takes us out of ourselves is a good thing. How many hours have I spent self-fucking the ego? Surely enough for a lifetime.
Let us look to the trees, and beyond to the sky, to figure out ourselves through detachment and distance. It all goes around and comes around, and around and around we go…
