My Favorite Things: "Phantom of the Paradise"

Welcome to another episode of My Favorite Things.

This week, I'll share a corny movie that many of you have probably not heard of and have never seen, even though it was written and directed by an esteemed and well-established Hollywood figure, Brian de Palma.

This film is "Phantom of the Paradise."  (It is available via Amazon Instant Video for those interested.)

I first caught this on cable sometime in the mid-1990s, when I was home from work with the flu. At the time, I thought I had vague memories of it from the 1970s--either on TV or from reading about it in a magazine, but I would have been young and certainly didn't recall most of it if I had in fact seen it.

I was struck immediately by the sets, costumes, music and gore, all of which are ridiculously over-the-top and were presumably meant to be that way.  (Or not? It was early in de Palma's film career.) It was all very 1970s tacky and was hopelessly out-of-date at the time I was watching it, even thought he 1970s were very much cycling back around in the 1990s, in terms of fashion and music influence.

The sets were decorated by a then-unknown Sissy Spacek, and the music--all written and mostly sung by Paul Williams, who also stars as the film's sex symbol [yes!] and bad guy--was nominated for an Oscar.  My favorite performance was Gerrit Graham as Beef, in a deliciously campy send-up of 1970s glam rockers.

I watched the movie repeatedly during the two months it ran on cable.  Then I forgot about it.

Then it made the rounds on cable again in the late 1990s, and my obsession was born. This time I shared it with a few others, some of whom agreed with me that it was a masterpiece of kitsch.  (Some found it boring and ridiculous, of course.)

A friend bought me my first VHS cassette of it in the early 2000s. It was one of the first DVD's I bought when we upgraded to the new technology. Another friend made me a copy of the soundtrack from Napster (the soundtrack was not available in the US at that time and was obtainable only as a very expensive Japanese import).

And upon surfing the web, I was delighted to discover I am not the only person who thinks this movie is fantastic. It is a "midnight movie" that plays in a lot of places (kind of like Rocky Horror Picture Show) and there are websites devoted to it, annual fan conventions, highly-detailed reconstructions of the Phantom costume for sale, etc.

I actually got a chance to see it in a theater at the Dundee when we lived in Omaha, where it played as a midnight movie in October 2007. To my surprise, Mr. 42 and I were NOT the only people in the theater. There was a reasonably-sized crowd in attendance, possibly because the movie stars and contains the music of Paul Williams, who was born and raised in a suburb of Omaha.

I will admit it looked a lot cheaper and cheesier on the big screen than on my TV, and the film reel they had was in pretty bad shape, but it was still fun to see it in its original format, with popcorn.

The pièce de resistance in my Phantom collection is the original movie poster from the 1970s release, which Mr. 42 found for me at an antique store that was going out of business. It was professionally framed and marked down from $179 to $139 in the close-out sale. That's probably more than I would have paid, but it was wonderful to receive such a thoughtfully-chosen gift, and its bright colors and cheesy graphics have graced the living rooms of four different apartments now.  

67 Days

It has been 67 days since Mr. 42 and I last drove a car, which was the date we arrived in Philly and returned the very expensive one-way rental Mitsubishi Gallant we drove here.

That is without a doubt the longest I have ever gone without driving a car since I got my learner's permit at age 15. (Technically speaking, I started driving at age 14--not uncommon for rural Nebraska, where many kids learned to drive at even younger ages if they grew up on farms, which I didn't.)

During these 67 days, we have used the "leather express" (aka our feet) to get almost everywhere. We rode in a taxi to and from the art museum, and that was the only time we've been inside a car since our move. We have only used the subway three times. We rode a bus to and from Ikea.

An ATC I made in 2010. Watercolor and ink on Yupo.

We thought we would be making more use of public transportation here (and we might, someday) but we've also been pleasantly surprised at how many of the things we need to go/do/see/buy are within walking distance. My definition of "walking distance" has expanded a bit, too. If it's within a 30 minute walk and it's not raining/snowing, it's worth the walk.  It is possibly worth the walk up to 45 minutes. If we're talking an hour or more away, we look for some other way to get there or we just don't go (King of Prussia Mall, I'm talking about you)!

The day we gave our car to my niece and her husband--just a couple days before we moved--was one of the happiest days of my life. I've never been one of those folks who regard cars as a status symbol (though I'm not judging those of you who are this way, and I acknowledge that having had constant access to a car or even multiple cars since age 15 puts me in a relatively privileged position to begin with). Once I began my lengthy commutes between Omaha and Lincoln, I came to view cars and driving not as a privilege, but instead as a necessary evil and a pain in the butt. I am so excited to finally be living somewhere that doesn't require you to have a car in order to complete the most basic tasks of life. (Omaha had a bus system, sure, but let's be honest--it sucked.)

Life without a car here has proven challenging in some regards, especially for buying groceries and job hunting. I've had to let several good opportunities slide because they're in a suburb of Philly that is not accessible by public transportation. Plus, I did the lengthy-commute-between-cities thing for five years and I'm not eager to repeat the experience anytime soon.

I am firmly convinced, though, that all this walking is improving my mental and physical health and will trim some pounds off me. Eventually. As soon as I learn to resist the Spanish fries with Whiz...

Sweet and Sour

Sour:  The three boxes that went missing in the move could not be found.  After extensive searches at both the point of origin and point of destination, the moving company has officially confirmed that they're lost.

They were unable to explain how or why the boxes the moving company packed themselves and labeled with a large label that had our last name and order number, as well as the little orange sticker with our lot number, and which were logged on their official inventory and bill of lading as both received and shipped, just disappeared. (They think it occurred in the Omaha warehouse somehow but no other details beyond that.)

Someone stole them? They accidentally got packed into somebody else's crate? Who knows? 

Sweet: We got our settlement from the moving company today. Apparently, they can put a value of some kind on things like pictures which have mostly sentimental value. Plus, we had a definite value on the more practical items like clothes, shoes, etc, that were lost. At this point, I've accepted that the photos are gone and that we can't get them back, and I'm just glad to have it over with. Things could certainly be worse. I'm counting my blessings. At least the two of us, our two cats and most of our things arrived safely in the move. At least Hurricane Sandy didn't wipe out the photos plus everything else we had and leave us shivering in a cold, dark, wet apartment for two weeks.  

Sour: I found out today a job I had applied for and been really hopeful about was given to someone else.

Sweet: A recruiter from the same company contacted me about another job opening they have, and while I'm not interested (it's in a different city and I'm in no hurry to repeat the move experience anytime soon), at least someone is noticing my resume and I have a contact in HR at that company now.

Sweet:  A surprise bottle of expensive and beautiful perfume arrived in the mail today.  (On top of the Tauer bottle that already arrived!)

Sweet and Sour: I ate a hot dog topped with baked apple slices and cheddar cheese for lunch.  ;-)

Sweet: It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas! Woo hoo! (This is the street our apartment overlooks.)

My Favorite Things: Blue Cat Painting

I just read the annual O The Oprah Magazine edition with "Oprah's Favorite Things."

Why do we care about Oprah's favorite things and how she found them? Most of them are things I can't afford, even if I like them (and there's an awful lot in it that I don't like. I mean, sure, if she wanted to give them to me it might be a different story ...)

I have a lot of my own favorite things already. Most of them were not expensive. Some were gifts. Some probably technically aren't "things" but I won't split hairs. I thought I would share them with you from time to time, and I would love to hear about your favorite things, too.

Here's an easy one that many of you have probably already seen, if you ever visited my house in Lincoln or any of my apartments in Omaha.

One of my favorite things is this Blue Cat Painting.  I informally refer to it as "Chess," sort of short for "Cheshire Cat," though this picture isn't exactly of the Cheshire Cat. Just a grinning cat, really.

I found him at an antique/craft mall on Cornhusker Highway in Lincoln back in 1997. He was $35. We had just bought our house and some new furniture to put in it, and we were pretty broke after that, but he was perfect for the decor in our guest bedroom and I couldn't get him out of my head.  We were getting ready for our house-warming party and I just knew I had to have him.  I emptied out my spare change jar, which had almost $30 in it, and scraped together a few more bucks to go get him.

(I put the change in my bank account and did NOT actually pay for him with the almost $30 in pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters, LOL!)

He was displayed in the bathroom at my three Omaha apartments, and is in the bathroom here in Philly as well. I had good luck finding a semi-matching shower curtain that further emphasizes his blueness.

Chess is large and heavy--2' by 3', professionally framed with a wooden frame and thick glass.  He is a watercolor painting with pen-and-ink details. Artist unknown. If it is signed, it's either on the back of the painting or under the frame where I can't see it. The bright blue frame is totally part of the painting's appeal for me. It matches the blue of the cat so perfectly.

The painting has just three colors in it, and most of the shadows and values are created by crosshatch lines. You can see some drips, streaks, brushmarks, etc. on him. The paper is not as white as it used to be, but the colors are still vivid.

I used to dislike the color blue, but this picture helped me learn to appreciate it, and I now have a number of blue things in my home, some of which you  may see in future editions of My Favorite Things.

Philly Fashion in Four Easy Pieces

Here's a totally frivolous entry free of kvetching about the move, free of politics, free of musings on my dying uncle, and free of hurricane-related humor and horrors.

One of the things I didn't like about Boston was the very "uptight" vibe that coursed through the city and even manifested in how people dressed. From the business formal attire (suits, hose, heels) of the company that interviewed me, to the School of the Museum of Fine Arts students who looked more like a J. Crew ad than art school students, I didn't see how I would fit in.

When we visited Philly last summer, we stayed in the business district, and all the ladies out on their smoke breaks and lunch breaks wore bare legs and comfy dress sandals or even flip-flops. We also happened to be a block or two from the Art Institute of Philadelphia, and day-glo hair, ripped tights, combat boots and the usual art-school drag were in full effect. I took all that as a sign that we were headed in the right direction.

In my 40s, I'm no longer comfortable dressing in garments that are too tight, too short or show too much cleavage/bare skin. Finding age-appropriate clothing is hard, but I'm not ready to resign myself to "Mom jeans" and white tennis shoes yet. Part of my wardrobe got lost in the move--shoes, belts, scarves, purses and clothing. I'm trying to put a positive spin on it and think of it as a chance to figure out how I want to dress.

I'll take a pass on one of Philly's most popular fashion trends--front thigh tattoos, which are about the last thing my dimply middle-aged thighs need--but I have enjoyed adopting these other Philly staples:

1) Skinny pants/leggings/jeggings--I had a couple of these in my wardrobe already, but have bought another pair since I moved here. Ross, Marshall's, H&M and Macy's all have plenty in all sizes and colors. (I always wear mine with a tunic or dress over them.)

2) Boots--Philadelphians wear boots, even in hot weather.   Short boots, tall boots. Cheap boots, fancy boots.  There's a strong preference for the cognac/tobacco/camel shades, but black and grey and any other colors are also acceptable. I had some great boots that got lost in the move, so I have treated myself to a couple new pairs, including the gorgeous brown leather beauties you see above. 

3)  Scarves--okay, those of you who know me know that I already love and wear scarves all the time. Some got lost in the move, but I've managed to hold my new acquisitions to just three so far, including this one. 

4) Zip hoodies--nothing ground-breaking here, but everyone has at least one of these, and they're a great equalizer. The ones from Old Navy look just like the ones from Gap or American Apparel.  (My hoodie is actually purple but I tinted the pic orange to match the other items in this entry.)

Now I just need an Eagles or Phillies or Sixers t-shirt and I'll look like a true Philadelphian.