When Yves Saint Laurent took up the reins of Dior from Dior, management was concerned. After all, YSL was only in his early twenties. Can you blame them? At first, everything was OK.
Trapeze to Trouble
The black dress and the floral print dress on the left were parts of Saint Laurent’s first collection on his own, called Trapeze. The exhibition guide talks about “trapezoidal” silhouettes and the “free spirit of the Sixties”, even though it was only 1958. It was a success, but but the success was short lived. In 1960 Saint Laurent called his collection “Beatnik.” Talk about the Sixties, leather jackets with mink trim! One short velvet evening dress featured bobble fringe trim. Gorgeous had almost left the building, but I think this black number with the swag of pearls might be worth its weight in silk crepe.
Yves was ushered out the door, but one wonders if the success of his own fashion house made the management of Dior regret running him off. When Yves left, they promoted Marc Bohan out of the London branch. His classical training returned the house and its clientele back to the safety of traditional haute couture without resorting to boredom. He borrowed from Russian tzars and the traditional Chinese cheongsam, keeping everyone happy for close to thirty years. Some of it is a little too Eighties for me, but I’d wear others.
Haute couture was being replaced by ready-to-wear around the world. Many of the French fashion houses had disappeared and others sold out to mass marketing. Dior remained. Enter an Italian, Gianfranco Ferre’. After Bohan’s freewheeling style references, structured suits and wafting evening gowns, Ferre’ took the house back to classicism. The exhibition guide gives him credit for everything from Baroque architecture to Impressionists, even Cubists and Surrealism.
To my untrained eye, he seemed to embody both the best of Dior himself and his successor, Saint Laurent. The simple column of the empire-waisted dress a la Josephine, which was named Palladio, spoke to me, but I think my bestie liked Glory, the black velvet number encrusted in gold, even better.
One thing I noticed about the Ferre’ dresses is that a goodly number of them had a lot of stuff on them. Like the stripped gown on the front row. I loved most of it, but then the bodice looked like someone’s granddaughter had come to work one day and glued a little of everything onto it. Same thing with the polka dot dress in the back. Just too much stuff.
And speaking of too much. How about that gray suit with puff sleeves and the really big bow. Sure, it’s too much but I love it anyway. I would hang it in my closet next to Dior’s houndstooth suit with the more conservative black bow.
Mr. Ferre’s designs finish out the first gallery of Creative Directors. Come back next week and we’ll look at three of the later directors. Meanwhile, enjoy the fashions.
Now that we’ve browsed through the entire Dior exhibit together, let’s go back and take a closer look at some of what is called fashion. I say that because to me, clothes should be designed to wear. They should look good and make me look good when I wear them. I can’t say that all the fashions in this exhibit would compliment the wearer.
Fashion and the Decorative Arts
I’ve said it before, the Decorative Arts are my favorite part of any museum. Paintings and sculpture are nice, but what I love most are practical items made sublime by their decoration. A Meissen vase can completely captivate me. My favorite museum ever was the Silver Collection at the Hofburg Palace in Vienna. Such a bland name for such an extraordinary place.
Many dresses in the Dior exhibition are certainly sublime. Would that my closet had such delights! Take the black and white number with the coolie-style straw hat above. Anybody with about an ounce of clothes sense would tell you it’s not in vogue. Fully pleated wool skirts and jackets with peplums are just not the thing. I don’t care. I’d wear that anytime. Not to a baseball game, of course, but give me an excuse to dress up and I’d put that number on. And in vogue or not, ooohs and aaahs would follow me wherever I went. The black taffeta, off-the-shoulder number next to it is pretty wonderful also.
However, I didn’t feel that way about everything I saw. As time marched on the dresses were less decorative and more arty. The show is partly chronological, but then it explodes into a kaleidoscope of eras. Dresses designed to grace the form of post-WWII damselles stand next to fashions better suiting an ancient Egyptian priestess or a Zulu warrior princess. Some of the outfits didn’t look like they would grace anyone or anything. When I put on an outfit, I don’t want people to say, “My, that’s an interesting outfit.” I want them to say, “Wow, you look great!”
To see the most egregious examples of these interesting outfits, you’ll have to go to the exhibition yourself. The photos I’m using in these posts were taken by Bill during my first visit. He’s as drawn to gorgeous as I am, so he didn’t waste his focus on interesting, much. During my second visit I was so busy trying to match the various dresses to their description in the exhibition guide that I failed to get a single picture.
In the chronological part of the show, the focus is on the various directors of the House of Dior. First, of course was Christian Dior, himself. The suit on the far right with the big black bow? I want it so bad I can taste it. It’s name is Adventure.
I didn’t love everything he did as well as that one piece, but it’s probably safe to say I love everything he designed better than anything anyone else did. For instance, the black double breasted belted jacket next to MY ensemble is entirely too bulky for my frame. I’d look like someone’s living room drapes which have decided to take a walk.
Bill only took one more picture in this section of the exhibit, a lovely gala gown from 1950 called Oceanie with an ‘ over the e. The amaranth red tulle dress is embroidered with sequins and beads, so I have no idea what that has to do with the ocean.
In fact, many of the names assigned to the ensembles had little to do with the ensemble it is assigned to. Some of the directors labeled everything as a “Look” and assigned it a number. I found that as disappointing as a red dress with a blue name.
There’s more to the exhibit, of course, but let’s put Mr. Saint Laurent off until next week.
I have a very pleasant difficulty. I’ve had so many wonderful vacations that “the trip of a lifetime” barely has any meaning for me. Each has been a “trip of a lifetime” in one way or another. It began with my mom. That lady knew how to plan a vacation. I will never forget the American Heritage tour we took that included Washington D.C., Monticello, Mount Vernon, Williamsburg and Lincoln landmarks. Before I met Bill I had a remarkable trip to England, a visit to Paris and a wonderful tour of Bavaria. Since Bill came along we have had one memorable trip after another, both in the United States and abroad. Hawaii? Yes! Caribbean? Yes! Europe? Yes! I never thought I’d see the Pyramids and now I have been twice. So what were we supposed to do to mark a special milestone?
An Anniversary Cruise?
Letting go of the backyard vow renewal ceremony, surrounded by friends and family and solemnized by my pastor, was tough, but it wasn’t just my anniversary, it was Bill’s too. So I started recreating my vision. Exchanging the Phoenician for a Back East ramble and my two decade diamond for a pond-side home had both been good decisions. Third time is the charm, right?
Bill and I daydreamed about the possibilities on our patio as summer became fall. We’d always wanted to cruise the Mediterranean, but the cost had always scared us away. We began to understand this splurge was the perfect choice for our Anniversary Cruise, but the Mediterranean is a big place. What ports of call, what cruise line and which ship would we chose. We had time, but it was a big decision.
As the year rolled to an end, I realized my favorite travel agency would be having their annual travel show in January. Since one of the important things about this cruise would be the people who went with us, I spent several days sending out emails to all my friends and family explaining what we were planning, hoping they’d join us on the adventure. Unfortunately, we were in no position to treat our friends and family to this cruise, so not only would they have to find the time to join us, they’d also need to find the funds. Our responses ranged from, “Gee, we appreciate you thinking of us, but no,” to “Try and stop me from coming.” In the middle were a whole lot of maybes. There were also many, many unanswered emails. Welcome to the Third Millennial!
Days of Discovery
On a bright January day, bestie, hubby and I took in CTC’s annual travel show. I got several bags full of dreams, but my husband only saw one ship. I did my due diligence, unaware that Bill had already decided what we were going to do. At that point, he didn’t realize it either.
I was torn between two choices. I’d always dreamed of enjoying the luxury of an all suite ship, but since our Danube Waltz adventure on the Viking Tor, I’d been craving one of their ocean cruises. Bill suggested I take a look at the new ship Celebrity was building, the Edge, and he was also interested in a Sailing Yacht Cruise. I spent a long afternoon in Sandra Rubio’s office as she explored the various choices we were considering. Then I spent days comparing the prices of the various cruises with the experiences we’d enjoy.
A few things were clear. Te price of the all-suite luxury cruises would prohibit most of the other people from joining us. The Sailing Yachts would offer us an amazing ceremony, but the ship we were most interested in would be getting an overhaul in 2019. Taking the Viking cruise would mean no possibility of my grandnieces and nephews joining us. The Edge was interesting and would accommodate the kids, but it was at the bottom of my list.
I’ve already let the cat out of the bag, Bill’s choice won the day – but did he choose the Yacht experience or the Edge? Come back next week! I’ll spill the beans!
Just when I thought Dior From Paris to the World was the best fashion exhibit the DMA had ever had, I found out it wasn’t even over yet. Certainly the gallery with all the celebrity gowns had to be the climax and end of the exhibit, but no, there was more gorgeous to enjoy! Come along and I’ll share the rest of the goodies.
Pretty in Pink
My bestie teases me about my OCD tendencies when we are visiting exhibitions, bazaars and galleries. I’m very systematic about it, because I don’t want to miss anything. As alluring as this confection of evening wear will be as you exit the big central gallery with the celebrity dresses, I recommend detouring to the left as soon as you enter this gallery. Two treats wait for you there. One is called “Lengendary Photographs” and for my husband the photographer, it was one of his favorite parts of the entire exhibit. For me, it was the area called “Total Looks” that deserved all the attention.
Pictures are not allowed in this gallery, so you will have to use your imagination, but there is a semicircle of vignettes displayed. Each vignette is based on a color and is decked out with everything imaginable in that color. You could easily lose yourself for an hour trying to comprehend the items in each vignette. There is no one season or look that is focused on, so the timeless nature of Dior’s designs and their versatility is well-demonstrated. Perfume bottle is juxtaposed with a pillbox hat sporting an outrageous hat pin. Shoes, jewelry, handbags, dresses, capes – literally, you name it, is served up in delicious coordinating hues. It’s truly mind-boggling!
Eventually you will have to shake off your obsession with “Total Looks” and see the next gallery. There’s a section here called “Dallas and Beyond” which highlights memorabilia from Dior’s visits to Dallas and elsewhere. If you have room in your brain to take in more, then this is a good place to soak up some more information about the designer himself. I confess, I’ve merely glazed over it so far. I hope to go back soon and have another stab at details like this. All the galleries have displays full of idea books, videos of fashion shows, swatches of material and other items I really want to know more about, but the brain can only absorb so much at any one time.
Finally, with a guilt-free conscious you can gaze on “Splendors of the 18th Century.” According to the Exhibition Guide, Christian Dior wanted to bring flamboyance back to Paris after the dark days of World War II. His fashion house was decked out in all the glory of Versailles and the pink confection at the beginning of this post is the DMA’s attempt to capture that. It was also a chance to show off one of the DMA’s most gorgeous paintings – The Abduction of Europa by Jean Baptiste Marie Pierre.
The Final Morsel
You’re almost through, as if anyone actually wanted to be. Beside the “Splendors” display is the entry to “Field of Flowers.” This gallery is devoted to all looks floral – a floral dress for every occasion. Samples from all eras of the fashion house are displayed together. Some you will love. Others you will wonder why they bothered. I was particularly impressed with some of the handiwork. When you realized that every bead and ruffle is applied by hand, some of the dresses will blow you away.
I’m planning to revisit the exhibit as often as I can between now and September 1st. So far, hunger is what eventually dragged me out of the exhibit. Maybe next time I’ll eat BEFORE I go, rather than take a turn at the exhibit first. In fact, if you’re panning your visit, eat first. You’ll need your nourishment.
It’s taken three posts just to get you from the entry to the final gallery. To exit you’ll have to make another dash through the fashion show themed hall ways. Then you’ll find yourself on the other side of the small entry area with its red lights and samples of Dior’s Revolutionary new look. If you come back next week, we’ll talk about some of my favorite and not so favorite pieces in the exhibit.
While the rest of the world gets rich and famous with social media, I blog on in anonymity – at least for the most part. I’m famous among my real life friends and on Facebook among my followers, but beyond that it does me little good. However, anyone driven to write, the way I am, needs a place to express themselves, so I blog on. However, from time to time my blogging does get me a few perks. That happened last week.
Dallas Art Fair
If you’ve been paying attention, then you know this is my third post about 2019’s Dallas Art Fair. If not, some details about the main event are here and I also attended an introductory event I described on Monday. Last Thursday morning I reported to the FIG (Fashion Industry Gallery) for the Opening Press Conference. There among other media types, I perused the event’s art offerings and listened to a series of speeches by the designated dignitaries.
One of my favorite parts of the day was wandering around the space with a tag identifying me as “MEDIA.” My thoughts about the media are not always congratulatory, but it’s nice when a lowly blogger like me can be of service.
It meant skipping an MLS meeting, but I felt that was a small price to pay to attend the event as media. Deciding what to wear was a bit of a challenge. I’d been disappointed in my fellow females’ fashion choices the evening before, but encouraged by the men’s sartorial offerings, I pulled out a recent purchase, a long blouse from one of my favorite designers, to pair with leggings and some lacy wedge sandals.
My next challenge was making my way from my almost-rural home in Heath through the morning traffic to Downtown Dallas. That went better than I anticipated, but my hope of parking in the DMA parking lot was dashed. They don’t allow public parking until 10. I parked in the First Baptist lot, so all I had to do was cross the street to The Fashion Industry Gallery at 1807 Ross Avenue.
I was not completely ignorant of the FIG’s existence and I knew it was in close proximity to the DMA, I just had no idea it was right there, nestled between the DMA and the Fairmont. The most prominent feature on the building where I crossed the street was a restaurant. My first guess at a possible entry was a false lead, but I saw someone who looked like they knew where they were going, so I followed. Voila, I had arrived.
I have a sneaky feeling that anyone with chutzpah and a knowledge of the event could have gotten a media pass. I saw them selling tickets at one kiosk, so I went up to the next one, where the lady asked, “Media?” I said, “Jane Sadek, local blogger.” She handed me my anonymous media pass, but it was the key to a weekend of art, so I was glad to get it – in spite of the casual offering underlining I was certainly no VIP.
Inside the Galleries
Then came the pay off for missing the meeting, fighting the traffic and searching out a parking spot – I was in. I had about a half hour before the press conference would begin, so I wandered through the galleries. I’m never sure what to expect from Contemporary Art, but I was happy to discover most of what was exhibited was at least interesting. I found a little of everything, from robots to hand woven rugs. I also found craftsmanship. These weren’t just ideas thrown together for their shock factor. These were works of love, executed with skill and attention to detail. To me, that’s art.
Satisfied the exhibit was worth part of my weekend, I planned to return with fellow art lovers in tow. It was time to make my way to the press conference – which, by the way, was 10 minutes late. Someone had overlooked tagging the first piece of art in the gallery which would provide the backdrop behind the podium.
As I surveyed the room I realized the female sector of the population had resumed their domination of the fashion scene, in contrast to the previous evening’s disappointing turn out. Now, the guys were back to boring and the women were strutting their stuff. I giggled a bit to myself over the “Dallas in Spring” vibe. One woman in a fringed-wool, hounds-tooth micro-miniskirt, paired with turtleneck sweater, teetered over high rise booties. She chatted up a friend in a frilly sundresses over suede boots. A pair of Asian women, speaking a language I didn’t recognize, wore voluminous layers I couldn’t quite identify above comfortable walking shoes. Then the denim skirt with the shell anklet over Adidas joined them. I couldn’t resit taking a few pictures to respond to the rod iron shoes I’d seen in a gallery on the floor above.
A series of dignitaries made speeches at the podium, that’s when I learned I’d seen something cooler than I even realized the evening before. The whole thing is dedicated to the idea of pop-ups and a permanent home for the Dallas Art Fair. With that kind of synergy, I bet it will be a very interesting spot, so put River Bend on you list of things to check out.
On the evening before, I’d wondered about the significance of choosing 214 as the name of a gallery. It certainly wasn’t the suite number. Like the characters in The Purloined Letter, I’d overlooked the obvious – it’s the Dallas area code. Apparently in international art circles it is a familiar number, one to be proud of. That cheered me.
Then I was momentarily taken back to my previous disappointment with idea-over-craft art. As they announced the pieces which the DMA would purchase from the Fair, among the others was an odd, idea-driven installation which I’d seen at 214. To me it looked like a room which was being set up for a presentation of some kind, but the workers weren’t finished. Instead various tripods filled the space and the walls had random video showing on the screens. I peered through the glass plates attached to the tripods, but nothing was gorgeous.
I shook off my disappointment and congratulated the artist in my head for capturing the curator’s attention. Everyone doesn’t have to like something for it to be art. Thankfully, the DMA had purse-strings long enough to wrap around other pieces and many of them were enchanting, even to me.
So, I hope you made it to the event. Thanks to the Dallas Art Fair for expanding my horizons and giving me the opportunity to share the Fair with my friends.
So, on Friday, I begged you to go to the Dallas Art Fair. I hope you did. It certainly loomed large in our weekend. However, the Fair’s Opening Press Conference was actually Chapter Two. Chapter One played out on Wednesday evening. Come along and I’ll tell you all about it.
Out of the Loop
The Dallas Art Fair just had its 11th event and somehow I was completely out of the loop for the first 10. I’ve been busy, but I thought I was paying better attention than that.
However, I love me some Dallas and I take the drive over the I-30 Bridge quite frequently, usually headed down to the Dallas Arts District. My membership in the Dallas Museum of Art has never wavered. I keep my eye out for Nasher events. So, I’m not sure how I became so disconnected with an event like the Dallas Art Fair.
Back in the Loop
While I may not be as plugged in as I used to be, as a regional blogger, some organizations do keep me in the loop. The DMA, the Perot, Preservation Dallas and the Arboretum all have me on speed dial, figuratively speaking. So, when I got an email from the Cultural Counsel inviting me to an artsy thing in the Design District, it wasn’t exactly a surprise. I checked my calendar and then invited the hubby along.
Happy on All Counts
As principals of a real estate photography company, we are always interested in new construction and new developments. We arrived at River Bend eager to find out exactly what was going on in this new addition to the Dallas Design District. At first glance it was comparable to other business/retail spaces all over the Metroplex. The invitation had mentioned “Late Night Gallery Openings, Clare Woods Book Signing, and SOLUNA Performance.” Galleries we understood, but the rest had to be discovered.
The invitation had not mentioned comestibles at all, but a happy Art Fair associate greeted us and pointed us towards the serving lines. Gladly the choices were not limited to cheese cubes and bad chardonnay. Bill tried a local brewery offering from a series of kegs (I’m dieting again, so I was going to wait for the promised mineral water) and then we headed to the buffet line. Caterers were whipping out chicken and pork street tacos, shrimp tostadas and corn-on-the-cob. I loved it all, but that probably had a lot to do with the avocado crema. Bill wasn’t as crazy about the entrees. He doesn’t do avocado and I’m guessing the other offerings were a poor substitute, but he loved the corn. I’d recommend the caterers, but I never found out who they were.
Next stop was a door with a large sign advertising Soluna, the musical portion of Dallas’s Art Month, sponsored by the Dallas Symphony Orchestra. I was there to get a bottle of Topo Chico Mineral Water. The space was devoted to the evening’s audio entertainment, an “Icelandic musician” with “signature trolls”. The music wafted out of the performance space and I could tell it was a little out there for me. Bill ducked his head in and his main complaint was the overuse of volume.
Continuing down the way we visited a couple of gallery spaces. One only had a few pieces and the other seemed more actively devoted to the consumption of Modelo than the presentation of art. It was time to head back in the other direction and see what we could find.
On our way back to the center of things, we focused on the ceramic murals of the exterior walls. A book signing by the murals’ artist was part of the evening’s offerings. Bill wasn’t fond of the mosaics, but I was more pleasantly effected by the thematic river vistas. Returning past the trolls, we happened upon some more gallery space and these spaces seemed to be more serious about the art portion of the event.
Our final stop was the 214 space, which serves as a gallery and as the offices for the Dallas Art Fair. Well-fed and having consumed as much as we could understand concerning the art offerings, we headed home. The next morning, I’d learn more about what I’d been looking at.
A Few Observations
I would be the first to admit that my taste in art leans toward the figurative and peters out some time shortly after the Impressionists. I find many things to like about contemporary artists who continue the figurative and classical traditions in art, however I have not given up completely on the non-figurative and alternate genres. I’m still trying, even if I don’t find myself enchanted. So, I’m not a good person to critique the art we saw that evening.
The people watching was spectacular. I was happy to observe jeans and yoga pants were not the dominating fashion statement. In fact, the gentlemen, rather than the ladies, were setting the bar. Socks were so last century for these guys and all the pants were tight and short.
Winning the award for tightest and shortest were those who wore cuffed pedal pushers. I have no idea of the proper name for these short trousers. We ladies used to call them capri pants, back in the day. But trend-setting short pants weren’t all I noticed. The top halves of these guys were also trendy. Those with longer pants had a sort of khaki/safari vibe to them. My favorite item on the men was a white straw trilby with a florescent orange band.
The women just did not measure up. They seemed more interested in volume than style, like a pair of harem pants in a loud plaid. Other versions of comfort were apparent. The crispest female fashion icon was a sweet young thing in black leather short shorts. Her long legs were shod in high-heeled platforms with an interesting collection of straps. Her other clothing and accessories were black and gold. Her hair was a slick black bob. Kudos to her for appearing to care whether anyone looked at her or not. The rest of the women certainly didn’t indicate whether they cared one way or the other.
Wednesday, we’ll head back to Cancun, then Friday I’ll chat about the press conference. Come back to visit!
Here’s a few things I didn’t have a place for in other posts about Club Med Punta Cana. I hope they’ll help you decide you need to go there and visit. If so, call my friends at CTC Travel.
Dinner A La Carte
You never have to face down a buffet at Punta Cana unless you want to or unless you didn’t get your Indigo reservations in soon enough. Indigo reservations can only be made in person at the restaurant on the day you want to eat there. They start taking reservations at 9 AM and if you wait too long, you either won’t get the time you want or you won’t get in at all.
We celebrated our anniversary by having dinner at Indigo. It was a lovely meal, but Bill made better choices than I did. He had some kind of whole fish and he says it was one of the most amazing meals he’s ever had. I had some Dominican shrimp in a plantain bowl. Good, but not one of the most amazing meals I’ve ever had. Here’s a few pics from Indigo and that meal.
Another Dinner Choice
With so much free food and drink available, we didn’t see much reason to spend money that way, but there was one opportunity to do just that. It was called La Cava. On the patios of Samana and Hispanolo (for dinner only) there was a section set aside for La Cava guests. You become a La Cava guest when you purchase wine, whiskey or cigars from La Cava and enjoy them with a meal. If we’d been there longer, we might have considered it, but we did just fine with the included comestibles.
There were a few shops at the resort and they had lovely things – but there were no bargains. Not a single one. Especially not on larimar, a semi-precious gemstone found only in the Dominican Republic. The cheapest larimar I found at the resort was a pair of earrings with a tiny piece of larimar hanging from each stud. The price was $80 and if someone had brought it to me, I would have thought it was some cheap trinket they got for about 5. So none of my friends got larimar.
At the resort, everything is priced in Dominican pesos and while everyone can tell you how much that is in euros, they are not so good with dollars. That made shopping quite challenging. It also almost caused Bill a heart attack when he saw a receipt with a bottom line of 4210.
Several years back, Club Med celebrated its 45th anniversary by printing up lots of T-shirts and other items with the number 45. The items sold like hot cakes So, when their 50th came, encouraged by the sales of the 45 items, they printed up lots of 50 merchandise. However, the 50 merchandise was a bust. They almost had to give it away to get rid of it. but while everyone was rejecting the 50th anniversary merchandise, they were still requesting items with 45 on it. You’ll see the 45 logo all over the resort on everything from t-shirts and bikinis to flip flops and beach bags. Vintage 45 items are a status symbol. We spent a lot of time speculating on the ubiquitous logo and as we asked around, trying to solve the mystery, we discovered there were almost as many answers as their were t-shirts. Some Americans thought it was for Trump – NOT! Some French people claimed it was the number of a popular soccer player. I asked the Chief of the Village and he gave me this skinny. So, in case you ever go to a Club Med resort and wonder, well here’s the answer.
Farewell to Punta Cana
I think that about covers it. You should have everything you need to enjoy a resort vacation with Club Med – and I heartily suggest you give it a try. I’m probably the only person on the face of the earth that wouldn’t think it was the best vacation ever, but my best vacations are devoted to satisfying my inner Museum Girl.
Would we ever return to Club Med Punta Cana? If we were the sort to repeat destinations, then there is no reason we would not. It is a beautiful resort with great food and a lot of fun things to do. We just rarely return to someplace we’ve already been.
So will we ever do Club Med again? It is certainly a possibility, but we’d probably only go for three nights, not five. We had a great time, but while Bill is more active at sports than I am, neither of us prefer sports for days on end. I can see us doing it before or after a vacation devoted to all my museums, palaces and historic sites or just getting away for a few day.
Winning the fabulous door prize from CTC Travel certainly gave us a new favorite possibility on our wish list, but we’ve already got the next trip planned. I’m just not ready to tell you about it yet. Right now, as I finish up this post it is June, shortly after our Club Med vacation, I have no idea what I’ll be offering up next week on Travel Talk, but please come back. I promise it will be fun!
Three days into my tropical vacation I was finally excited about something. We pooled our resources for a limo (one way only) and headed to Freeport. I was happy to finally be on familiar ground.
We Hit the Sidewalk Shopping
Our limo dropped us off at a shopping area near the casino. Each of us had a list of people to buy for and some cash to spend. This one wanted a watch, someone else was looking for jewelry and I’d heard you could get good deals on porcelain and crystal. My list really just consisted of Mom and Aunt Edie, so I took an interest in what everyone else was looking for and helped them in their search.
When it came to understanding what was a bargain among the luxury items we saw, my friend Debbie actually had a better grasp, but I was the one with a good sense of direction. I was able to maneuver us around the shopping maze with ease. We browsed around all morning and at the end of it, I was able to direct everyone back to the place they’d seen their favorite thing for the best price. I got some Wedgewood pieces for Mom and Aunt Edie. I was going to get my dad a golf cap from the resort. That just about did it.
What’s for Lunch?
We’d heard from somewhere that the best place for lunch was at the Freeport Princess snack bar. Like the shopping area, the Princess was near the casino. I have to confess that when I got there I wished we were staying there rather than out in the boonies. This place was happening. The clientele was very different from the families with 2.5 kids and the college students we had out at the Grand Bahama Hotel.
That’s where we made the love connection. The guy in the solid yellow shirt and bell bottomed jeans was Michael and he was a hunk. It was one of those across a crowded room sort of things. He had a crew of friends and they sorted themselves out among my friends, but Michael and I had energy.
The guy in the white jeans and hat was the organizer of the group. He pointed the conversation towards the guys coming out to see us on our end of the island. Michael and I were happy to go along with whatever anybody else dreamed up as long as it meant our chance encounter would get an opportunity to develop into something.
It was nearing the time we’d arranged for our limo to return and pick us up. The guys planned to borrow a car from somewhere and drive to our end of the island. It seemed like a great plan. After all the disappointments I’d endured so far, it seemed as if my vacation prospects were picking up.
There was giggly girl talk all the way back to the hotel. While Michael and I had been an item from the get-go, the other connections were still pretty loose, so there was a whole lot of bargaining going on. We all agreed on one thing, Michael was the hunk of the bunch and he was all about me.
We had dinner at the buffet and started watching for the guys. Come back next week and see how that went.
Royal Caribbean calls their internet service VOOM and it comes in two flavors – with and without streaming. We call it FAIL in either flavor.
First Impressions Matter
After a disappointing Embarkation Buffet and Sail Away, we were getting worried about out cruise, but the boat was nice, our cabin was fine and we liked our cabin attendant. All was not lost – yet. We’d made a stab at having fun. Now it was time to get down to business. As I shared a few weeks ago, even though he’d tried to offload his business for the few days we’d be gone, it hadn’t worked and Bill was going to have to keep an eye on the market. For that we’d need internet, so we made our way to Deck 5 to do a little business.
Literature I had read suggested there would be an internet cafe somewhere on the boat with free wi-fi. There wasn’t. Perhaps some of the ships have it, but not Vision of the Seas. There were a few computers you could log onto and there was some limited internet access, but if you wanted to check your email forget about it. Doing what Bill wanted to do would have been impossible.
We went to the Customer Service Desk and they said we could just log-in and get internet ourselves or we could see the Internet Desk. Since there were two different packages and he wasn’t sure which one he wanted, he went to the Internet Desk. He also only wanted internet on two of the four days, not the balance of the cruise.
There was no attendant at the Internet Desk, so we cooled our wheels until they came back. When she appeared, Bill really challenged her scripts. Everybody is supposed to want internet for the whole cruise and she didn’t know what to think of Bill. In the end, she also told him how to sign up online, because if she signed him up on his phone,he’d have to log out of the phone and then log back in on the laptop. See when you sign up for internet you only get it for one person on one device – and they mean it.
So we dutifully went down to the room. I finally started unpacking and Bill sat down to log in. Soon I was unpacked and Bill was headed back out of the room, because what had sounded so reasonable at the Internet Desk didn’t work on the laptop in the room. I stayed behind to finish unpacking and to start getting ready for the evening.
When he got back I could tell things did not go well. The VOOM lady had offered to give him a refund when he told her how much trouble he was having. I bet that was an interesting conversation. She quickly got the message that a refund wasn’t going to cut the mustard and soon he was working his way up the food chain to find someone on board who could get him online. They’d finally gotten him operational, but barely. He was one unhappy cruiser.
Obviously, things were not going well on this cruise – and guess what! The disappointments had only just begun. Come back next week and we’ll go investigate a few other shortfalls.
My life is pretty busy. Last year, before I went to Egypt, I really meant to get my eyes checked and update my lenses. My sunglasses were so scratched up I could barely see out of them, but one thing led to another and I ended up with my beat up sunglasses on vacation. That turned into a blessing, because I lost the sunglasses going through security in Sharm el Sheikh, but that was only the beginning of the saga.
Juggling My Glasses
While the part of me that is reasonable and practical was sad to lose my sunglasses, there was also a part that did a little happy dance. The loss was unfortunate, because the frames were fairly new. I’d worn my previous pair of prescription sunglasses for a long time with complete satisfaction. I bought them in 2006 and just kept replacing the lenses, until I realized I had actually worn off all the decoration.
In 2015 I had my eyes checked and there was a new development. Glasses and sunglasses weren’t enough. I also needed computer glasses. So, my regular glasses, a pair of wire frames I’d been dissatisfied with for a long time became my computer glasses and I bought new frames for my regular glasses and my sunglasses.
My new regular frames were great. They were red Calvin Kleins and I felt snazzy in them. The sunglasses were a fail. They looked marvelous, but they just wouldn’t stay on. The arms weren’t curved enough behind my ears, so they fell off all the time. Hence the many scratches. They’d bounced off every surface from the bottom of a dumpster to pavement. So losing them gave me the opportunity to buy some new frames that would actually stay on my face.
Time to Upgrade
I really shopped around for sunglasses, because I have very sun-sensitive eyes. I probably wear my sunglasses more than I wear the other two. I wanted to find a pair I would love as much as I did the ones I’d purchased in 2006. Then I found out Brighton sunglasses are prescription ready. They are my favorite sunglasses in the world, but I hadn’t been able to wear them since 2006, when I had to start wearing prescription sunglasses.
Let me tell you something, optometry shops want you to buy frames. They must mark them up about a 1000%. All this second pair free stuff is a dead give away. I didn’t realize how serious they were about this until I tried to get my new prescription filled at Costco. Even though they charge you hundreds for your lenses, its the frames they care about.
The clerk did everything she could to discourage me from using my old frames. I had to sign a waiver releasing Costco from responsibility should the frames break and even then she couldn’t guarantee that wherever it was they sent them would fill the prescription. I’d just have to do without my glasses for 10 days.
To add insult to injury, they wouldn’t fill my sunglasses prescription at all. The frames had stones in them. Puh-leez! Tough luck for me. I walked in with three pairs of glasses to update, but only left behind one pair, because they wouldn’t do my sunglasses and having to wait 10 days while they sent them off meant I’d have to use my computer glasses for every day. I wanted to just tell them no thanks, but Costco was the vendor my husband had approved and I was trying to cooperate.
Then I went to find someone who would fill a prescription in a pair of glasses with stones in them. I don’t want to talk about how much it cost. I am still traumatized!
The Agony Continues
Eventually I had new lenses in all my glasses and for a short while I was a happy camper, but it didn’t last long. My beloved red Calvin Kleins fell apart. I’d just spent a fortune getting all those prescriptions filled and I loved my red glasses, so first I went back to the people at NorthPark, where I’d bought the glasses originally, hoping they could repair them. Too bad, so sad – they sent me to a jewelry repair place. The jewelry repair place referred me on to a place in Richardson where they repaired glasses. I don’t want to talk about how much it cost, but I was desperate.
I felt the same way when the darned things broke again. So I went back to NorthPark place one more time, hoping that by some sort of magic I could special order a replacement pair – something I hadn’t asked about when I’d gone in hoping they could repair the glasses. Finally, the glasses elves smiled on me. I couldn’t get the red glasses, but they still had the same frames in black! Yes, I had to pay for them, but they did give me a discount after I wailed to high heaven about their “second pair free” promotion. It just seemed wrong that I’d been through such a painful series of glasses related issues and now they were going to charge me full price to replace the frames I’d originally bought from them. As I wailed, I never admitted how glad I was that I was not going to have to start from scratch and get new lenses also.
What Now ?
So, I went on for several months more, juggling three pairs of glasses and wishing for the days when I could see without them. I make do with the computer glasses around the house and keep the other glasses in my purse for use when I am away from home, but it still seems like I am continually looking for one pair or the other.
One day in December I was out running errands when I realized I had my computer glasses on my head. I walked back to the car and put them there so I wouldn’t lose them – but of course, I did. Back at home, after I’d changed my clothes I realized my glasses weren’t in the dish in my bathroom where I usually keep them. So I went back to the car, but they weren’t there. So I checked the pocket of the jacket I’d worn, but they weren’t there. I scoured the entire downstairs over and over, thinking I might have set them down somewhere along the way without realizing it. I checked my purse, the pocket of my jeans, anywhere I could think of that had even the remotest possibility of hiding the glasses. In the days to come, I would tear up the whole house and go back to every location I visited while running errands. The glasses had disappeared off the face of the earth.
Weeks later, for some forgotten reason, I wanted the old blow-dryer I used to use, which I keep shoved in a hidden corner of my closet. Bill uses it sometimes to help build a fire on the grill, but that wasn’t the reason I went digging for it this particular time. Whatever the reason, I found my computer glasses on the closet floor. Of course, they were shoved so far back that I had missed them the other 3000 times I’d looked for them.
You may wonder why I’ve taken so much time to tell you of all my recent woes with my glasses, but I had to tell you or the next chapter in my travel tale would not have made any sense. Come back next week and I’ll tell you about our embarkation on Royal Caribbean’s Vision of the Seas.