Until three years ago, craft fairs came in your standard grandma, dried eucalptus, church lawn variety. Enter Chicagoan crafters and visionaries Sue Blatt and Kathleen Habbley. The two saw the craft movement gaining serious online momentum but realized there were no fairs to accomadate the new generation of crafters. And so in 2003, the Renegade Craft Fair was born in Chicago. Met with huge success, the duo brought the fair to Brooklyn's McCarren Park last year, and their baby grew fast. This year there were nearly 200 vendors selling handmade goods: comic books, purses, cards and stationery, rock posters, puppets, t-shirts, jewelry, and pretty skirts.

It was hotter than hell the day Sebastian and I stopped by, but the fair's friendly energy was palpable and infectious. Artists and crafters were proud to share their wares, and the resourceful and positive DIY spirit ran from booth to booth in a ring around the softball field. It was inspiring to see people making what they love and that, in turn, making them happy. Better still, I loved stepping out of the circle of my daily life and connecting with a larger community of people passionate about making beautiful things.

Sebastian bought a super cool t-shirt screenprinted with the bust of Serge Gainsbourg. I picked up one of Betsy Ross' sewing kits. Bust, Venus, and Readymade were there with their newest issues; a super sweet lady from Repro Depot was selling fabric remnants for cheap; the lovely letterpess works of Rar Rar Press were on display and ready for the taking; the Austin Craft Mafia ladies were right near the entrance reigning supreme. Honestly, it was the best day of celebrity sighting ever. All my favorite online personalities were camped out in one place, fanning themselves to the tune of the ice cream truck parked on the corner. We ended the day with margaritas and the best fish tacos ever. Can an afternoon get better than this?

Posted by sarah at 12:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

When Sebastian and I found ourselves traveling to Baltimore for our dear friends' wedding, we knew we had to bring POP viewers everywhere the inside scoop on Maryland crab cakes. And so I am delighted to present the first episode of Pink of Perfection On the Road!

The bride told us, hands down, the place for crab cakes is Faidley's in Lexington Market (She would know - the Food Network was shooting her wedding cake!). Like Les Halles or Reading Terminal, Lexington Market is filled with stalls of (mostly regional) temptations: fried chicken, barbeque ribs, pigs' feet (in long and short form varieties!), and banana pudding with Nilla wafers (oh, take me home!). The place was crammed with locals selecting vegetables and drinking beer, and I tend to get a little camera shy when we film in public. That is until one bystander hobbled over on his cane and told me I could relax knowing I was "standing next to the black Clark Gable." Needless to say, he calmed my nerves.

We had only just made it to the fish stalls when security showed up. The guard pointed us up to Lexington Market's equivalent of the principal's office: the only door, unmarked and ominous, on the empty second floor. Upstairs, before we could even plea our case, The Boss Man and his Right-Hand Lady booted us right out on the street saying no way Jose could we film. Apparently, he said, Lexington Market has just "been burned too many times." Huh?

I cried on the sidewalk. Lexington Market patrons seemed excited to have us there taping; what did it matter to the Big Boss? It seemed to be another sad and infuriating example of an autocrat totally out of touch with the desires of the people. Even thoughts of crab cakes couldn't cheer me up; I felt totally defeated.

Enter the proverbial white horse and shining knight. When Sebastian suggested we throw caution to the wind and shoot anyway, I remembered one of the reasons why I am crazy in love with him. Just like adolescence, I felt my rage transform into an untameable desire to misbehave. I shimmied the microphone up my dress while Sebastian covertly pulled the camera out of his bag. Alias style, we skulked around on the sly, warning each other when we spotted a sauntering security guard, and stealing shots like pros.

But how was the crab cake, you ask? Perhaps it was the jumbo lump crab meat, the knick-knacky atmosphere of Faidley's, the super hot sauce on the table, or the adrenaline coursing through my veins but this was The. Most. Amazing. Crab cake. I've ever had. Perfection ain't cheap, though, and this love doesn't come in a pair, either: one cake will set you back $13.60. Trust me when I tell you it is worth every penny.

On our walk back to our bed and breakfast, Sebastian asked me if I felt like we'd gotten away with something. He does renegade stuff like this at work all the time, but I was still soaring. I felt we had triumphed in the name of underdogs everywhere, that we had stuck it to the man by spreading joy and foodie tidbits. I felt as if goodness and beauty had trumped evil, and I was pretty damn proud of it. And seriously, that's what the Pink of Perfection is all about.

Posted by sarah at 11:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)