I love this. I am immersed in a theme and I have Holly Golightly all around me.
I'm having so much fun planning and piecing my Breakfast at Tiffany's block. I was shooting to do it as part of August's Glitz and Glamour challenge at Crazy Quilting International but we're going away for the Labor Day holiday tomorrow so I'll have five days without internet access and will miss the deadline. That's OK, cuz Miss Holiday Golightly is traveling...
Now, if you'd read the book, you would get that pun. I'm also reading the story right now for the 1% Well-Read Challenge and loving every little quip -- the verbal banter is fabulous and Miss Golightly is a treat for the senses.
I'm planning a monochromatic color scheme for the block fabrics and I know that two large motifs will be the chandelier in Tiffany's window and Miss Golightly herself.
So I'm off to piece my block now so I have it to take with me on my trip. And look, I get to play with all of these beautiful embellishments in my favorite color...
I can't leave without sharing this excerpt from the book....
Holly Golightly in a conversation with Paul Varjak, the guy who lives upstairs:
"I don't want to own anything until I know I've found the place where me and things belong together. I'm not quite sure where that is just yet. But I know what it's like." She smiles, and lets the cat drop to the floor. "It's like Tiffany's," she said. "Not that I give a hoot about jewelry. Diamonds, yes. But it's tacky to wear diamonds before you're forty; and even that's risky. They only look right on the really old girls. Maria Ouspenskaya. Wrinkles and bones, white hair and diamonds: I can't wait. But that's not why I'm mad about Tiffany's. Listen. You know those days when you've got the mean reds?"
"Same as the blues?"
"No," she said slowly. "No, the blues are because you're getting fat or maybe it's been raining too long. You're sad, that's all. But the mean reds are horrible. You're afraid and you sweat like hell, but you don't know what you're afraid of. Except something bad is going to happen, only you don't know what it is. You've had that feeling?"
"Quite often. Some people call it angst."
"All right. Angst. But what do you do about it?"
"Well, a drink helps."
"I've tried that. I've tried aspirin, too. Rusty thinks I should smoke marijuana, and I did for a while, but it only makes me giggle. What I've found does the most good is just to get into a taxi and go to Tiffany's. It calms me down right away, the quietness and the proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, not with those kind men in their nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligator wallets. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany's, then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name..."