WeavingTheRedThread
Weaving the Red Thread is a running visual diary from Blixa 6 Studios.
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WeavingTheRedThread
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Yummy!
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theinsidesource:

New York Fashion Week is Fast Upon Us
By Jauretsi
Expect some tasty Inside Source tidbits coming next week as the mayhem unfolds starting September 6th. Until then, I leave you with this GIF of one of our favorite fashion obsessed protagonists, photographer Thomas (inspired by 60’s Brit photographer David Bailey). “Some people are bullfighters, some people are politicians. I’m a photographer” says the man embracing his camera.
(Photo: by iwdrmfrom Blow-Up 1966)
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Is it a path in a rose garden? A thumb-sucker? An evil clown? The choice is yours.
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Remember when you were 12 and you had that heart-throb poster taped to your wall that you stared at as you fell asleep in the not quite so dark light of summer? Maybe you even practiced kissing with it - not sure quite how it was supposed to feel. As I watched this polaroid transform from gray to a field of sapphire in my hand, that’s what it reminded me of.
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You know that first time you stuck a whole popsicle in your mouth and held it there just a little too long. Then, when it got too cold to bear you tried to take it out but it was frozen to your lips and ripped off some skin when you pulled it out. Yup - it happened to me too when I was sixteen. I was eating a Fudgesicle while driving my Dad’s 5-speed VW Rabbit up Queen Anne Hill in Seattle. When I saw this image emerging from the gray Polaroid film, I could feel the raw places on the inside of my mouth where the skin had torn away with the frozen chocolate popsicle, just like being sixteen again. Awesome.
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Remember how you used to roll down that long, grassy hill in the lazy summer afternoons behind your grandparents house? You would run to the top of the hill, lay down in the cool green shade of the oak tree and tuck your arms close to your body. It started out slow but pretty soon you were really rolling fast - the world spinning blue then green, then blue then green, over and over as you tumbled to the bottom of the hill. Standing up was hard at first and everything swirled around you. Then, getting your balance back, you would run to the top of the hill and do it over and over again until it was time for dinner.
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The subtle, vintage pastel colors of these French antique billiard balls called out to me with a dozen faint voices from deep within a stall in the Paris flea market. It was all I could do to stop and honor their faded beauty with a quick, surreptitious snap before wandering deeper into the labyrinth in search of delicious treasures of the golden past.
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As you turn the next corner in the labyrinth of the wondrous Paris Flea Market, this haunting collection of antique doll heads lays in wait. A decaying, vintage grotesque for you to discover and covet but impossible for you to fit in your suitcase.