A Brave and Startling Truth by Maya Angelou:

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns
To a destination where all signs tell us
It is possible and imperative that we learn
A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it
To the day of peacemaking
When we release our fingers
From fists of hostility
And allow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it
When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate
And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean
When battlefields and coliseum
No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters
Up with the bruised and bloody grass
To lie in identical plots in foreign soil

When the rapacious storming of the churches
The screaming racket in the temples have ceased
When the pennants are waving gaily
When the banners of the world tremble
Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it
When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders
And children dress their dolls in flags of truce
When land mines of death have been removed
And the aged can walk into evenings of peace
When religious ritual is not perfumed
By the incense of burning flesh
And childhood dreams are not kicked awake
By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it
Then we will confess that not the Pyramids
With their stones set in mysterious perfection
Nor the Gardens of Babylon
Hanging as eternal beauty
In our collective memory
Not the Grand Canyon
Kindled into delicious color
By Western sunsets

Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe
Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji
Stretching to the Rising Sun
Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor,
Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores
These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it
We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe
Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger
Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace
We, this people on this mote of matter
In whose mouths abide cankerous words
Which challenge our very existence
Yet out of those same mouths
Come songs of such exquisite sweetness
That the heart falters in its labor
And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet
Whose hands can strike with such abandon
That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living
Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness
That the haughty neck is happy to bow
And the proud back is glad to bend
Out of such chaos, of such contradiction
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines

When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
Without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it.

Today I’m over pretty. I’m irritated by the idea that we’re all girlish all the time and that we wake up in the morning with perfectly tousled hair and smooth legs and underarms. I mean it. Sometimes I spit. Oh I do. I spit maybe even every day. And though I think about eatting with poise and grace – often – I’ll drink OJ straight out of the jug.

I’m over all the pretty little things on blogs and pinterest and in magazines. I’m over the idea that clothes don’t crease & wrinkle around the hips when you sit in ‘em – hell, even the idea that women have hips seems like a dirty little secret.

I have to ask myself before I find something “inspiring” – do I like the clothes, the styling? Or am I pining after a thin image I’ve been programmed to believe is the holy grail?

In an age of digital cameras so fine you can see the mere thought-form of a future wrinkle, our media is obsessed with airbrushing not realism.

Every so often, sometimes standing in front of my wardrobe, I find myself making disgusted noises- like I’ve eaten way too much processed sugar. All these pictures of teeny young girls wearing perfect clothes with perfect skin next to the perfect man in a perfect forest- oh – it’s just so much bs.

Do real live folks wear well put together outfits anymore? Yes they do – I have a friend in her 50s that has some of the most fabulous freckles and a bit o curve and let me tell you – she can dress. She looks killer. Always – Modern and Classy and Stylish.

I start to exclaim – demand:  Where are the blogs that document real live folks in well put together outfits?!
But I know – the dude from The Sartorialist says that curvy women are the main group of folk that consistently say him nay when it comes to snapping street style for his blog. So we’re inundated with gazelle like young women, or waif like older women that are mightily eccentric and artistic.

Because gals with any bit of curve are, by and large, self conscious. Every so often we come across a pretty picture of a woman with a slight bit of padding and hold it up – tape it to our fridge – vow to let self acceptance into our lives. But as the photos of good looking curvaceous are so few and far, we’re back to our wistful ways soon.
Marilyn Monroe is the pinnacle of bit-o-padding and beauty appeal. Why? In front of a camera – on screen, she owned her appeal. She was comfortable in front of a lens.

You know what irritates me most? There isn’t a great source of inspiration for how to dress realness well and I’m not talking about how to “camouflage those problem spots” I hate those articles you find in Oprah or In Style. How many items of clothing does one ever look at and say, well that won’t look good on a skinny girl?

Now I am not advocating American obesity. I think in shape bodies look better in clothes than out of shape bodies – skinny or curvy.

I am advocating that we take refreshing walks, eat whole delicious I-can-pronounce-all-the-ingredients-in-it food and learn to actively be joyful in movement. If after all that, you, like me, still have a pot-de-creme (that means belly chub) then you let it go – and say, yes, take my picture Mr. Sartorialist, because this is what a healthy, happy, beautiful spirit looks like – and it’s housed in my incredible body.

You’ll see a range of non-professional beautiful models grace the digital pages of Unabashed apparel. I meet women with that joy de vivre and I can’t help but beg them to model. Role Models as well you see.

I’ll be looking for some women about the streets of my small town to photograph in their style savy ways. Pictures will be few and far between – but I hope I’ll capture a few for you – and hope even more that more blogs, magazines, and pins will include more attainable inspiration as well.

for so long I’ve wanted to stamp it. my look – on everything. yes. stamp stamp. create create. but i’m like a crazed squirrel running willy nilly after too many nuts showered from the heavens, or an oak tree…

what? -you say.      oh you know exactly. -I say.

half stamp – look to the left, carve stamp more, look to the right, carve something different.

A little J bird said, Sabelle, that’s what they call me. Okay that’s what one person calls me & I like it so I’m going to use it This Is My Story, back to the point. J bird says, Sabelle, you’re Creativity from The Book of Qualities* and I said, surely not! Too big of a compliment. J bird – yes yes! but you are see?

And she’s right  – I love all the colors. I love rococo art ladies with all their ruffles and flounces – for shame. I love modern Japanese design. nothing. bare. And I love a deep drink of red velvet. and I love unbleached muslin. I love dark detritus and curling and secretive and I love light so bright it hurts your eyes with dust flecks floating honestly.

right this second I’m quite happy I gobble up all of it. Yes. Gobble.

Range I’ll be calling it. Like all the colors and all their palettes on a wheel.

*The Book of Qualities = the best book ever. My all time favorite. Chances are you’ve received it from me if you’ve known me for just 1/2 a min.

This Little Piece of Gloriousness shared by my pal Angie: An Open Letter to the Fat Girl I Saw at Hot Yoga – yep it’s hysterical – and it’s also  well put – about the point of yoga (or as my grandma calls it – yogurt).

This lineup of meals – not because it’s a “cleanse” but because it’s 2 weeks of healthy vibrant good-for-your-soul whole foods.

Photos by Ashley Fleetwood and Amanda Sattler

I’m having the pleasure of working with the talented Kyra Dosch-Klemer once more (whoop whoop!). Kyra always asks these questions that get my intense heart fluttering a mile a minute.

We’ve been talking good design recently. A little known secret – I love me some modern spartan design. Yes. With no frills. No fruff. Gracia trys to beat this out of me, but it creeps back in the guise of “early primitive antiques”.  And the quote of all design quotes – “Simplicity is the highest form of sophistication” (-Mr. Da Vinci). It’s about guts really. If you wear, make, live with just barely enough – then all your bones, intentions, and talent show don’t they? Or the lack of good bones, purpose or any talent… yepper. Simple means courage in my little corner of the design world.

So this fella, Christian Jackson,  -he combined fairy-tales and damn good simple design. Whoa. Heaven for me.

And my favorite:

Yes indeed. Brilliance.

I love the beginning of things. Mornings – especially like this one full of bright sunlight and fog hanging in the valleys. There’s a dress in here friends.

Beginnings like:

the first sip of coffee or wine.

the glimpse of s slip of fabric turning into magic.

and a hellebore’s sleepy head rising from a cold ground.

I don’t know about you but I’ve been waiting on winter. I need a little cold snap and a soft snow falling to feel like I’m ready to start anew. Today felt so like spring I couldn’t begrudge being stood up by winter any more. I let it go and threw my arms wide to spring… Now it’s bound to snow

This photo reminds me of the new year. By one of my all time favorites – Au fil de:

This year was a whirl of goodness and hard work and deadlines and standing up and getting over and letting go and moving on and making changes and starting new.

Last year I resolved to have less-but-better.

This year I’m tackling angst and unnecessary crap cluttering up my ability to see. I’m over clothes that make me rearrange myself 18 times during the day. And I feel that way about my inner bits too.

I’m done with some of the bullshit.

If it doesn’t serve me or others -it’s finding a new home. And so I’m:

Going to be posting less often but sharing better thoughts/updates/inspirations.

Embarking on a one of a kind adventure. I’ll be featuring a special item every so often in the atelier and in the online shop that is both breath-taking and unique. Look for the first one in February.

Ending the Gratitude Friday series. It feels like it’s time.

Meeting change with jubilation and a firm hand shake.

Taking naps without feeling a bit of guilt.

And growing some of the best pumpkins my bit of the mountains have seen (thanks Apple).

As it’s our last Gratitude Friday, I’m going to tell you that I’m most grateful for your readership, support, comments, cheers, kindness, and help.

Let’s keep prodding one another forward.

Shine on dear folks.

Bewitched swan brothers (who are naturally princes) can only take human form for a short while at night. To break the enchantment, the sister must not laugh or speak for six years all the while hand making her brothers shirts from a nettle plant. There are obstacles of course, including death by burning stake, but I’m not giving any more away.

A tale of love but instead of the whole normal prince meets princess love, it’s a tale of love and dedication between family. What better story to bedeck the atelier window during the holiday season?

And the prince(ss) finished shirt to come is absolutely lovely. Happy Holidays Friends!