As I mentioned in my post Looking Back, I’m perusing old photographs for some to share with you for what sparks of inspiration a few might contain. This photo in particular is one of my very favorites, for it is what my dreams are made of…

In 2005, my mother and I traveled to Venice, Italy (a most beloved city for me and a great influence for why I wrote Venice and subsequently Veleno). We visited during the annual Carnevale. Unfortunately, all we had was a disposable camera or two, which doesn’t help one catch all the dozens of shots they would wish for, especially during a once-in-a-lifetime event like this. For folks like my mom and I, who revel in history and costuming, Carnevale was a constant parade of mind-boggling delights. My brain still drifts there in my daydreams, this magical place in my memories. If only I could go back and hand us both a digital camera so that we could have captured so much more…

But alas, at least we got a few treasured shots, like this one. These three Baroque beauties broke my brain. No idea who they were, from what nation they’d hailed, or who their (utterly talented) costumer and wigmakers were, but to cross their path made this gal stop dead in her tracks. There was a crush of people in St. Mark’s Square where this photo was taken, which I’m sure made it even harder to capture more, or get around to secure better full-costume shots…

For the Venetian Carnevale, you have two options for costumes. You can have everything made by a costumer at home (like my oh-so-talented Mama) and carry everything with you to the city (praying that your luggage doesn’t get lost or your masks and accessories crushed..which would have devastated me. You would have heard my cries from Venice clear across the Adriatic). Or, you can rent a costume in Venice, and even have your hair (and I’m sure makeup) professionally done. That would, of course, cost you a pretty penny, and I’m certain wouldn’t be feasible to repeat each day of your visit (unless you’re a millionaire), but it certainly would be an experience…

In any case, those Baroque lovelies looked like they’d stepped right out of 1750 and rendered me speechless. Those pillared wigs, the grandeur of their flowered and ribboned hats, their satiny extravagance and furry muffs to cover chilled hands. Even the large pearl drops hanging from one woman’s ears (oh, pearls…so pure and pretty) inspire me. I swoon. I swoon and fall down…

It is my hope that my mom Lita and I will someday return to Venice, to once more take in the Carnevale, perhaps even holding two tickets to the Il Ballo del Doge. A gal can dream, and save her pennies. After all, sometimes, dreams really do come true…

Whatever your dreams, never let them go. Stay Inspired!