I went back to Peacock Feathers and the downtown Antiques Shop to purchase those items which I had previously staked my claim. Clicky on images for maximum XTREME enhancement beyond your wildest dreamz. Or, rather, to properly view at proper size.
They weigh about as much as a cat and to be honest, they are really too big for my head, but STILL. I've never seen anything like it in my life and I needed to own them.
I thought that Michelangelo's painting of God creating Adam expressed the true emotion of love more deeply than a simple heart-with-initials ever could have. Because metallics and shoes and metallics are always equivilant to love.
Yes, flower power. Note the plastic flowershaped belt buckle and the flowershaped buttons. If that's not power, than I need to find a new energy source like NOW.
All of these things were 20% off their original price because my beloved Peacock Feathers in moving to Mystic. If you don't know about Mystic, then let me tell you.
Mystic, Connecticut is what New London (my town) is currently aspiring SO HARD to emulate, but there are too many toothless drunks and 50 year old high school dropouts for that to be a reality.... so cute little kitschy businesses usually up-and-leave in a matter of less than a year. Mystic, Connecticut is the equidistance of all things overpriced and unnecessary, a place pumping out class prejudice and snobbery at an exceedingly high rate.
Basically, once my beloved little vintage store on the corner of Nothing and Nowhere; my little diamond in the rough looming in all its musty turquise elegance moves to Mystic, everything will be overpriced and the owner will be unwilling to "hold these pretty things for me, pretty please... I will come back in a week with money I promise" because there will always be some Mystic resident who can afford to pay MORE. Someone who lives in a little beachside home with her small yapping dog and her cute little kitchenette in the guest room and her stupid, stupid lobster paraphanalia (because one MUST decorate with crustaceans if one resides in Mystic, Connecticut) and her cobblestone driveway that she has to carry her Louboutins over, lest they get nicked.
Ugh. I hate her already, this bitch who is already scheming to steal precious vintage goodies away from my New Londoner mitts.