Barbi Does Miami

mostly from my oxymoronic years between Miami and Milford


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every day is earth day

It’s Earth Day. Today.

Its also take your kid to work day. How did they get the two on one day? And who is they anyway? Like who allocates them? Mother’s day and Father’s day and Valentine’s day and Secretary’s day and Ocean day? My mother used to say, before my father ran off with her best friend, “every day is father’s day”. Personally I think every day should be Mother’s day. And Earth day and Earth Mother’s day and Mother Earth’s day. Really! We have, like, ozone holes and vanishing rainforests and melting ice, and oil spills and mountain top removal and fracking and extinct species, and air pollution and clean water shortage and now all that plastic in the oceans that kills everything from whales to birds to fish and eventually us, and all we have is ONE day! Only one day a year that is Earth day….

What bullshit!

One Day To Feel Good About Ourselves and the Environment Day is what today should be called, so tomorrow we can go back to our old ways of buying bottled Evian, forgetting to bring cloth bags to the market, leaving the lights on, driving instead of taking our bike or walking.

BUT

Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe its arrogant to assume that we, as just another, be it rather pernicious species, have to assume the position of “saving the planet” when its only us who’s making the mess in the first place. Its a bit like beating your wife and then helping her with the ice packs and band-aids. Take a look at the last tsunami, the earthquakes, the volcano just last week and its easy to see that we the people, are, after all, pretty powerless, and that Mother Earth may just have her own plans  to save herself.

And I don’t think she calls it  “Human Species Day”.

What WE need is a Human Species Day. Atonement Day. Reflect humbly on who and what we are and correct our ways to save ourselves and each other.

(All of above said in the words of Michael Jackson: with the love…with the love…)

plover eggs and beach plastic


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earth mother’s day

photo: Iona Gordon

Last week I got a FB comment from Tony, my former fashion PR in London. We’d lost touch for 25 years. It said:
“Wow you’ve become such an ‘earth mother’… What happened?!!!!”
Ouch. I thought. I’m not cool anymore. I’m not post-punk London groovy anymore. I’m not young and cutting edge and wild  a n y m o r e.
I’m an EARTH MOTHER!

SHIT.

I thought of cutting my hair and bleaching it . I thought of piercing my nose and tongue and moving back to London. I thought of me 25 years ago and I felt wistful.

Tony now owns a  forecast service, predicting future fashion trends and runs it from Melbourne. I guess the latest wave of Green fashion hasn’t reached there yet, lets face it fashion forecasting from down under must be quite a challenge… I’m being bitchy. I know, here:    ; )   … a blinking smiley should make Tony feel better.

So  this is what happened:

I became a mother.

I grew up.

I saw better, clearer and beyond myself.

and use this in my work…

So maybe now I’m an earth mother and maybe I’m proud of it. Maybe the earth needs mothers. Its not like the fathers have done such a great job over the ages with their offerings of virgins and plundering and raping and not picking up after themselves. Maybe it takes some global mega-mothering, you know, like mothers for wiping sooty volcano’s, tucking in trembling fault lines, putting bandages on gaping ozone holes, and cold compresses on raising temperatures. And how about a few volunteer mother surrogates against the extinction of the Iberian Lynx , Saiga  Antelope, Sumatran Tiger, Silky Sifafka and the South China Tiger?

If only.

If only earth mothers had father time on their side….


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writing and plastic…

photo: iona gordon

There’s definitely too much to read.

Oh for the predicament of writers, as per Facebook, where 99.9 % of my friends seem to be professional authors. Writers get a bum rap. We all agree. Publishers are dying while writers are multiplying. Nobody gets paid. No one who’s not somewhat famous gets published into a real hardcover book. And surely there are more words on the internet than have been written in the history of mankind.

Still.

I like to write. Its like giving those voices in my head a clothes line where they can flap about in the sun rather than be cooped up in my dark and dank head all day long. I never have writer’s block, unless you call what the fuck is the point of being a writer a block. Like those voices, even if I give them plenty of sun and air, still want better. They want to be heard, they want to be read, they want to be seen, they want to make an impact, they have big ego’s, and they always want more more more.

Writing is lonely, but blogging is not entirely. Lonely. Well, at least I get to see my daily stats (the chart that shows how many people have been on my blog). My daily stats are my ego mood meter. When it goes up my voices are pleased, but when it goes down they are pissed. My agent is lucky that I have stats. If I didn’t have stats, which tell me two hundred people read my latest blog within the first hour, I’d be on the phone with my agent all the time. Love me, love me, tell me you love me. Tell me I’m good. Tell me that my last novel is funny, will be published, will make me famous. Oh shut up already. Go work with the homeless. Go save the oceans. Those are my other voices. My who the fuck do you think you are? voices. Do you have those? I think they’re Dutch. The Dutch are not supposed to desire much. I’m Dutch. But I left Holland. I think I left because occasionally I take myself seriously. I have ambition, a really dirty word in Holland when I grew up, in the sixties, those I’m gonna be a social worker and save humanity sixties. That’s why, apart from writing, I also need to save the world from plastic pollution.

Yes.

I collect old plastic trash from the beach, bring it home to my garage, where I forge jewelry from this trash. I sell the jewelry and I’m just adding bikinis with ocean trash plastic embellishment to the collection, just so the plastic can get back to the beach and lie in the sand, only now on the sexy tan bottom of some Miami babe who paid (a lot) for the trash that she left behind a year ago.

That’s just the kind of thing I like. It makes me laugh and gives me something to write about, because even though I do take my creative ambition seriously, it makes me feel like I actually do not take myself quite so seriously.

Thus the conflict inside my head, my murky voices, my modus operandus, my reasons for writing.

the collection at Las Tias, the Miami store


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is sex green ?

WHY the green yacht by Hermes

Plastiki, David de Rothchild's ship

Green green green green greener greener greener greenest greenest greenest. Never was a color hotter. Fifteen years ago merchandisers told us, designers, that green did not sell. no way in hell would they get behind a green turtleneck, a green dress, a green jean, a green T-shirt, blouse, sweater, skirt, legging, hat, bag or mitten. As design director at Calvin Klein i tried calling green anything from tundra, moss, chartreuse, grass, olive, celadon to sprout, fir, loden but no matter what organic name it wore, green did not sell. Ha! Where are you now, you no-green-mantra-maidens? Eating sprouts, moss or celadon? Its the 21st century and  the new mantra is: if it aint green it wont sell. Everywhere i see oxymorons from green fashion to green kids, green cars, green skyscrapers, green vacations, green luxury brands, even a green earth beauty pageant.  I could go on but no doubt you were already thinking along the same lines and do you, like me, go from green with envy (those perfect eco celebrities seem to have it down) to green with guilt? I dont have green kids, i dont live in a green condo, i hardly drive a green car. i dont even dress in green. In fact i’m sick of green. I’m sick of hearing about green enterprises like the Hermes yacht, called WHY (indeed), which any green billionaire warrior can call his own for a mere $100 million. It’s ohso green. they say, and sustainable, but can’t they do mankind a favor and invest that $100 million in micro-finance projects around the third world?

WHY oh WHY

Then there is another oxymoron: de Rothchild and green. Or maybe not. The tall and handsome trust fund adventurer,  David de Rothchild, is soon sailing his PLASTIKI, a 60-foot catamaran, inspired by Thor Heyerdahl, and created out of plastic recycled bottles, from the Golden Gate 11,000 miles across the Pacific to Sydney Harbor. His young crew, which includes Josian Heyerdahl (yes granddaughter of that Thor) and blonde skipper Jo Royle, appears to have been picked for their sexy good looks (did you see the size of Plastiki’s deck?) and the pr for the adventure reads like Swept Away meets March of the Penguins.

Is de Rothchild the Calvin Klein of eco?  And does he figure that a green label may sell stuff which is hardly eco-friendly, but only sex will sell green technology?

David de Rothchild and hull

Josian Heyerdahl

skipper Jo Royle and floatables


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nature naturally…

IMG_3415here he comes again. i cant stand it anymore. i’m gonna cut his gas line. since nine this morning, there have been outside my window the following: man worker with noisy gas powered bush clipper cutting to shreds a perfectly lovely bush, half an hour later same  worker with noisy gas powered lawn mower mowing 1″ high grass, half an hour later same  worker with noisy gas powered weed whacker whacking 3/4″ grass, and an hour later another  worker with noisy gas powered leaf blower blowing one visible and several microscopic leaves across the pavement.  this process of curbing and preening nature takes at least two square inches out of the ozone layer, and therefore shortening the survival chances of nature by several what? Minutes? Hours? Years? but. this is what I find. some in miami think green is just a color. GREEN as a movement for sustainablity is not  a prevailing concept. its a color that you cut and mow and whack and blow. hummers are STILL the car of choice for the rich and richer. recycling at my condo means separating your garbage and then having it all thrown together again by waste management so why bother. at publix, the local supermarket monopoly, the baggers give me a foul look when i bring my reusable set. i’m scared of those baggers. they yell at each other, so surely they’ll yell at me. the beach gets cleaned every day, morning and afternoon, by giant scoopers. this does not make anyone responsible for the crap thats left behind. THEY, a force which is not generally seen as another human, cleans it up and as a result waste is  left where it was used in its process. parks, streets and shoulders are littered before THEY clean them up and what doesn’t get picked up in time ends up blown into the ocean or the canals, like floating publix bags, styrofoam cups, coke bottles, halloween candy wrappers, tide containers and so on. the city itself makes an enormous effort to keep  miami clean, and it’s a beautiful city, but this process of constant cleaning and controlling of litter seems wasteful and doesn’t motivate individuals to take responsibility in creating a sustainable lifestyle. one that uses less and recycles and reuses more. this is my observation after six weeks, i’d love to be proven wrong, and will  join any local group that is working to teach greener policies…

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