Remembering my friend Victoria MacKenzie-Childs — – Latest News
Colorful reminiscences of artist
A narrative on Victoria MacKenzie-Childs who simply left us at 77. Society knew her. Devotees of Zero Crapdammy who’d lived in a one-room rent-controlled residence didn’t. She was my friend.
MacKenzie-Childs’ 57th Street store was well-known. Unique. All one-of-a-kind costly quirky handcrafted dishes, tables, lamps, chairs — designed by her, handpainted, made by her and her husband, Richard. You may buy a set or one-of-a-kind, like her whimsical black-and-white checked teapot with matching cups. Sit on her tufted jewel-studded chair sipping tea. You may — and you probably did.
A short ferry story
She was no accountant. In 2000, chapter. Hostile takeover. She, Richard — then frail — moved on to all they may afford: a damaged outdated ferryboat. The creaking wreck, named Yankee, was tethered on Staten Island. Ellis Island’s final ferry. Born in 1907 — even earlier than Biden, and we changed him — it transported immigrants, served in each world wars. I’ve visited that boat repeatedly, watched MacKenzie-Childs cook dinner for household in its tiny kitchen, serve a four-course dinner on a desk flanked by handpainted, quilted chairs priced as soon as at hundreds. I, shivering within the chilled damp ship, was supplied a cold in a single day stateroom the scale of my lipstick.
She owed money. She had none. She’d invite collectors to their upstate warehouse. Expect her verify to take home? No. She gave you a multicolored embroidered silk tasseled pillow. She traded her treasures for her payments. All the whereas with multicolored unmatched ribbons in her hair.
The store she created which moved to Soho remains to be there. Her designs are nonetheless being re-created.
MacKenzie-Childs was recognized for opening her well-known ceramics store in Soho. Victoria MacKenzie-Childs/ Instagram
Barking out at pup ranks
I like the New York Post. I learn the paper even when Alexander Hamilton based it in 1801. However, I’m upset!
Last week, life-style reporter Marissa Matozzo wrote a half-page story, plus a picture of some sort of hound. Not my beautiful fantastic creature. Just a plain canine canine. Headlined was “The Wiener Is . . .” then listed American Kennel Club’s rankings as: No. 1 French bulldog; No. 2 Labrador retriever; No. 3 Golden retriever; No. 4 German shepherd.
No Yorkie?
My Jellybean, 6, was offended. He paid this author back by peeing on her story, whereas standing on my kitchen ground. Unfortunately, I used to be additionally standing on my kitchen ground.
Enough issues with people overseas. Now their animals? My beautiful 6-pound Yorkie Jellybean sidelined for foreigners?
There’s Pomeranians, pugs, spaniels, Maltese, bichons, Airedales right here from England, France, Mexico, Japan, Argentina, Korea? I do know one Irish setter in Flatbush who doesn’t even have his papers.
Jellybean is upset. My devoted member of the family slowed down solely when remnants of a lamb chop appeared.
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All civilization is aware of I’m no egocentric grasping individual. I’m not barking on behalf of breeds like Scotties, beagles, Chihuahuas, collies, Pekingese, Great Danes, St. Bernards or Havanese. I’m merely, doggedly, making an attempt to improve the state of affairs.
New York. Capital of this planet. Our world’s most well-known metropolis. One massive gridlock. Areas the place there’s no stopping, no unloading, no parking, no housing, no kidding, no driving. But residing on water off Staten Island, dealing with the least engaging streets of our city, you would.
Only in New York, children, solely in New York.
