Mode O'Day

It is firmly established that I love vintage clothing. I love the styles, cut, and fabrics that were used in the mid twentieth century. The workmanship of the simplest of garments is superior to anything you could buy in a department store today. Even the "low-end" brands were better quality. The fact that so many of these garments are now over 50 years old and still being worn is proof.

After buying a particular red dress I love, I wanted to know more about the designer. The label read "Mode O'Day" and under that, "Styled in California." I decided to do a little research.

 In my red "Mode O'Day" dress at Christmas (I have an apron on)

The Mode O'Day label

The year was 1932, and the country was deep in the depression. Most prudent people would not have thought it was a good time to start a business, but three brothers who were immigrants from Lebanon, throwing caution to the wind, started Mode O'Day. Their strategy was to manufacture dresses by the dozens, and instead of selling them wholesale to retailers, sell them from their own stores, passing the savings onto the customer. In their early days, most of their dresses cost $1.

The first Mode O'Day shop was founded in Glendale, CA, and by the mid 1960s, there were over 700 stores in over 30 states. Most of the stores were independently owned franchises. The individual owners would be able to purchase the dresses, on consignment, directly from the factory located in Utah. The Mode O'Day corporation also supplied display materials and most everything these small business owners needed to get started. 

 The outside of the Tacoma, Wa Mode O'Day

Inside the Tacoma Store, 1947

 

Pictured above is the local San Jose Store 1955

Another shot of the San Jose shop located at Valley Fair 1955

I personally don't remember the Mode O'Day shops. The company was purchased sometime in the Mid 1960s  by the Gamble-Skagmo Corporation. At the time, Gamble-Skagmo owned many retail chains, from Pharmacies to Hardware Stores. In my research I haven't been able to pin-point the time of Mode O'Day's demise.  I know that sometime in the 80s the company changed its name to "Fashion Crossroads," in an effort "to update their image." 

There are a lot of Mode O'Day dresses out there. Most of the 1950s styles are nipped waist, full skirt, and the sun dresses usually have a bolero. You can find dozens for sale, right now on Etsy, Ebay and other websites.

 

Oh yeah....I have a blog!

Greetings! Yes, I am still alive. Frank is still alive, and I have been a very bad blogger.

I apologize for being away so long. There are a few reasons I've neglected this blog. Obviously Frank's cancer was the most important thing in my life at the time I stopped. He had a successful surgery in June, in which his lymph nodes came back negative for cancer. He had gotten the melanoma before it had spread. His recovery was lengthy, and he was unable to drive almost all summer which made life difficult since I was working in the City and he had gone back to work (probably too early) and had developed complications. He has been well since September, and we are counting our blessings. 

The second reason I've not cared to write is I really have not been going out much. I haven't been taking photos when I do go out, so it seemed pointless to write. I am still very involved in Mason's skating, and focus a lot of attention on that.

The third reason is that there were certain people who were reading my blog, that I sensed did not like me. I also believed they might try to use what I write against me in some way. I know it sounds a little paranoid, but I was not in a position, emotionally, to have any sort of negativity directed at me. Today, if there are haters out there reading this, I can't be bothered to give a damn. Read and hate away! 


I have had some major changes since I last wrote:
1. I left La Rosa and am happily unemployed and taking care of the kids since September. 

2. I left the Bombshells around the time Frank received his diagnosis. 

3. I got FAT again!    

Working at La Rosa was something I loved. I loved the clothes, I loved the customers, my coworkers, and all of it. My family did not love me working up there. I was too far away from the kids after school and I didn't get home until 9PM some nights. I had to choose, and anyone who knows me, knows I will always choose my family over work. 

Leaving the Bombshells was one of the hardest things I have done in my social life. The girls and the club were a big part of my life for over 6 years, but we had all changed over the years. Marriages, kids, different responsibilities and I was struggling managing my time. I knew I would not be able to honor the commitments involved with being in the club, so I had to go inactive. 

As for the weight gain...what can I say except I like to eat. I really like to eat when I feel stressed. I also really like to eat when I'm not going out and have no reason to get dressed up. I gained back almost all the weight I lost in 2009 and 2010. I returned to weight watchers a couple weeks ago and will remedy this situation. I have lost 6.5 pounds the first two weeks, so I know I will not have a 30 inch waist by Viva, but I will be on my way. 

Now that I am back, I may start writing in my weight loss blog again, but I will definitely be back to write about people, places and events that I enjoy. Maybe a little history on certain things that interest me. Who knows? 

Frank and I in December

   

Social Obligations (AKA: FUN)

Since I am going about life as if there isn't a dark cloud looming above us, and operating under the assumption that Frank's cancer has NOT spread (we will get final word after his surgery next week), I have carried on with life, as usual. Here is a little bit of what I've been up to, besides work.


June 1, I went to see Marti Brom at the Verdi Club. I love that venue and I am a huge Marti Brom fan. It was a good time, I got a couple jives in, but I forgot my shoes. these photos are courtesy of my friend Corinna. 

Corinna and I

Corinna and Veronica

Marti and Quarter Mile Combo

Buster trying on my shoes with the help of Teresa...

Thursday, June 7, I had a ticket for JD McPherson at Great American Music Hall....wait let me back up. Wednesday June 6 I received a call from an old friend, Rob Melberg, that he had won 2 tickets to JD McPherson and gave them my name. I had 2 extra tickets for the show and put it out there on Facebook to see if anyone wanted them. I found a taker, and had no problem switching them with the box office. 

I am a JD superfan, and was surprised and thrilled to see Mando Durame playing sax with him. Even more surprised since the dork that I am didn't recognize Mando when he said "hello" to me outside the club. I thought he was somebody local that I just didn't remember because I am older than dirt and I often don't remember people. I worked for Royal Crown Revue several times, selling merch and promoted a couple shows. I felt like a moron not recognizing him, but he wasn't wearing a suit, like every other time I've ever seen him. 

My friend Susan's boyfriend, Ray,  plays keyboards for JD, so it was nice to see him back in town. Susan and he live in Chicago, but Ray used to live in the Bay Area. 

Behold, an abundance of photos from the show:

Surgery

Frank had an appointment with the Cancer specialist yesterday. His surgery will probably be in about 3 weeks. The doctors will do a test the day before to determine which lymph node is the one that should be removed, and then the next day they will remove either his left armpit node, or one in his arm or both.

Whichever they remove, he will be unable to move or use his left arm which will be difficult since he is a leftie. I will be home to fully take care of him after. I have spoken to my boss and we are going to hire a part time employee to help in the shop while I am gone. Frank will be down for about 2 weeks.

We won't know what stage his cancer is at until after they examine his lymph node.

Right now, I am going through the motions of life as if this is not looming before us. Working, making social engagements and doing my best to KEEP my social engagements. It is hard because I just want to curl up in a ball and cry sometimes. It hits me at weird times, like watching Frank talk to our kids, or getting a lovey text from him.

Thank you!!!

Thank you to everyone who commented on my blog, and everyone who read it and cared. Frank's appointment Thursday had to be moved, due to the doctor being in surgery. She was kind enough to call Frank to discuss what her plan for him is, which is a surgery to remove his lymph nodes and to remove more skin and under the skin around where they removed the initial mole. 


His appointment is Tuesday, so hopefully we will have a surgery date, then. I have friends lighting candles and saying prayers all over the world. Thank you for all your support and kind prayers. 

The candles are burning for him!

Cheesy pic of us...love him...

The C Word

And I'm not talking about C U Next Tuesday. 


Tuesday we got the news that the mole that I nagged Frank to have removed for two years is Malignant Melanoma. He has an appointment with a Cancer Doctor today, I suppose to schedule more tests to find out if it has spread to his lymph nodes. 


I will never joke about him being my imaginary husband again. He is very real. He loves me more than anyone else ever has. He loved me when I thought I was unlovable, and gave me a life that at one time I didn't think I deserved.

Mason's First skate Contest!

Yesterday, Mason competed in his first skate contest, held at Lake Cunningham Regional Skate Park. The contest was initially a "Skate Patrick's Day Contest" but due to weather, had to be rescheduled to May. 


At 11, Mason was skating in the 12 and under group. There were 5 or 6 kids in his age group, total. When it was his turn, his first run was flawless. Here are some photos my friend Scott Foss snapped.

 

 Here is a photo of Frank, Mason and I just before Mason started his second run

When they announced the winners, I kept hearing the other kid's names called, and then there it was. "In first place, Mason Smallwood!" Mason's buddies all were screaming for him, and Brody picked him up and carried him to where they were handing out the prizes. Mason won a deck and a bag of "swag." 

I am thinking of starting a blog dedicated to Mason's skating, if I can find the time. 

Something to look forward to...

Just got my ticket for JD McPherson in San Francisco at the Great American Music Hall June 7. Can't wait!

Upstart Crow

Here is another old blog I wrote in 2004 about a Campbell, CA punk institution from the early 80s. The photo is from the summer of 1984 taken in Palo Alto, CA. That is me in front with the cigarette.

Upstart Crow

In Campbell, CA, 1983-??? "The Crow" as it was fondly referred to, was a cool place for people of different subcultures to congregate. It was a bookstore/coffee house and the first place I ever tried an expresso drink. There was a large patio off the dining area that had a vine covered arbor. The patio was surrounded by a waste high black metal fence, and most people who were too lazy to walk around would just jump it. There was a large tree (oak I think) along the side for additional shade during the day. 

 

For about a year Wednesday night was the night to be there if you lived south of Palo Alto or Fremont and North of Gilroy. It was the time when most everyone involved in some kind of 'subculture' would meet up. There would be mods, deathrocks, punks, skins, skaters, dance club kids, and even the few rockabillies that were around town. At times there would be several hundred people meeting there. We would meet, some people would have booze hidden, we'd smoke cigs and cloves and just sit around hanging out and bullshitting. 

 

In those days if you were in the "scene" you pretty much knew who everyone in the scene was. Most of us were 16-19 but there were a few old-timers who had started listening to punk in 78 or 79 and they were around 22 or 23. The older ones were more deathrock like than punk. Today, the subcultures are so multi-generational it's hard to know who everyone is or where they came from or who they know. Back then, if you saw a kid wearing creepers, you knew who they were and if you didn't, you'd walk up and start talking to them to find out what crew they hung out with. I kind of intermingled with a lot of different groups. Having a touch of ADD made me get bored with people and situations and I'd move on to other groups of people, but trying never to burn bridges. 

 

Summer of 84, the Crow started to crack down on Wed nights. To many people drinking, scaring away paying customers, and one night there must have been over 200 people, so they planned to close at 7 pm on Wednesdays. People were bummed, and there never was again a place like that where you knew EVERYONE would be in one place. 

 

Summer of 85, people still went to the crow but it wasn't a once a week thing. We'd go any night, around 6 or 7. Next to the Pruneyard where the Crow was located, was a creek. Today it's all developed as the "Los Gatos/Campbell Community Creek Trail" for squares to ride their bikes on. Back then, no trail, just a hole in the fence to a trail that led down to a creek and under a bridge. We spent that summer drinking under that bridge. There was a huge willow tree with a mattress under it. The tree was like a cave. Some people would camp out there. One night some of my buddies brought a Colemen stove down to the creek. They took sticks with long string attached to them and tide balogna on the ends. They caught crawdads and then saute them in butter. I was to grossed out to try one, but they were loving them. 

 

We scared away the vagrants who had once hung out under that bridge since we were there almost every day when there wasn't a show or something better to do. We even had a couple planned parties down there. It was far enough away and the cops never came down there. We didn't bother anyone. When they were making that dumb ass community trail, they cut down the willow tree. 

 

I still drive over that bridge and glance down there sometimes. I miss my youth, and I miss those people and those times. You know, when you just didn't give a shit what you were going to do with your life. When you didn't have responsibilities and your only objective was to be with your friends and have a good time. Politics didn't mean anything, you just knew you hated Regan. Damn...I need a smoke, I'm feeling kind of misty. 

 

 

The way I was....

"When one man, for whatever reason, has the opportunity to lead an extraordinary life, he has no right to keep it to himself. "
Jacque Cousteau


I believe this to be true. I believe through fate, and adventures in the pursuit of happiness, I have been living an extraordinary life. I often feel guilt, wondering if I deserve it, or if it is rewards for "dues" that I paid when I was younger.


I've been reading over my old blog on myspace. Wow...so much living in the last 9 years. I want to share some of it with you all over the next few months. I am going to make a real effort to blog. Time is an issue with me now, working in the City and Mason's skateboarding. I also want to share some stories of when I was young.


Here's a pic of me in 1985 with my friend Mike Hauser, RIP

Here is a blog I wrote in 2004 about 1984-85:

Part time Gutter Punk

When I was 17-18, I was in and out of my parent's home. They would kick me out or I'd just leave and be gone for a couple days or a couple months... During one of my escapades to San Francisco, I traded a beer for a stolen BART pass that had like 19 dollars on it. Back then BART cost about 1.35 to go from the City to Fremont which was where my dad lived. I would leave my mom's house with about 4 or 5 bucks. Take the bus to Palo Alto, then catch the Sam Trans to SF. It would take me like 4 hours to get there, but I'd be let off in the Mission. I'd take muni up to Haight or North Beach and look for people I knew or just meet new ones. Back then, almost every night of the week there would be a show at the Mab. Local bands, and sometimes some headliner types. There was a liquer store accross from Clown Alley in North Beach in China Town that would sell booze to minors. I would usually spend my last 1.50 on a quart of beer or Boonesfarm. I can still taste that Boonesfarm Stawberry Hill or Tickle Pink. It was like fruity juice that made you all warm. Me and whatever group of scamps I'd be running with would go to this HUGE pit around the corner from the Mab. There was a mesh fence around it, I guess it was where there was once a building, but it had been torn down. We would go through a hole in the fence and walk down and sit on the ledge of this open pit and drink and bullshit and get high. When we all had a good buzz going we'd walk back up the hill to Broadway, past the barkers yelling at us to come look at the strippers inside. Why the hell would they try to lure punk kids into an asian strip club, I don't know. Once we actually went in...about 8 of us, and there was this tiny little asian chick, she didn't look older than me...standing in the front of the room totally nude. She was holding up a veil. The barker had said it was free to get in, we were drunk, and when we sat down he says "OK, I need 7 bucks from all of yous" and we just got up and walked out...the Asian stripper, looked sad and dropped her veil as we walked out. Don't know why...it was obvious we didn't have any money. We'd walk past these places and the sex shops and Taquerias to the Mab. Sometimes the show would be free, sometimes we'd wait in the alley for when they would be loading and unloading equipment and sneak in. sometimes one person would go in and get stamped and we'd lick our hands and try to get it to transfer. The Mab had a pinball machine and we'd stand around playing pinball sometimes between bands. I remember seeing 45 Grave the night before Halloween in 84, I think it was. I'd eaten a pot brownie so was kind of really not with it. Afflicted used to play there a lot. The skins loved the Afflicted because they had a song dedicated to them "If you're young and wired and tired of the disco, shave your head and come to San Francisco." Sometimes after a show I'd go with some of these punk kids and sleep at a squat. Some abandonned house or building...smelled like piss and puke, but mostly like piss. When I'd get tired of that I'd use that BART ticket to get back to Fremont. It was Green which meant the kid who traded it with me stole it from a handicapped person. I'd have to be sly and make sure the BART workers didnt notice that it was green.