Vestits de Quinceñera

I have returned to Spain after 15 hours of flight time from Los Angeles to Barcelona. I returned with disquieting emotions of leaving my family behind, but overjoyed to see my guapo husband after a month's absence. Upon reviewing the pictures I took, the ones I am publishing in this post are to show the viewer and anyone with a Mexican-American background how times have canviat since my heyday for young Mexican-American girls celebrating their coming of age party called quinceñeras  on their fifteenth birthday.

This tradition does not exist in Catalonia, although there is a large Latin American immigrant population in Spain. I wonder if it is a matter of time before young girls from Latin American countries decide to celebrate their fifteenth birthday with formal ball gowns like the ones I saw in window displays specializing in these types of dresses in California. 

In Catalonia and Spain, young girls celebrate their adulthood on their eighteenth birthday with a party called Puesto de Largo, a party introducing their coming of age with a long gown. I have not attended one, but a have a hunch Spanish girls do not wear the type of gowns sold in quinceñera shops in downtown Santa Ana on 4th Street.

My sister had a quinceñera back in 1978 and wore a white dress with a  petticoat underneath, white gloves, and a discreet tiara. The celebration was held at home after a church mass and I dreamed thereafter of my own fifteenth birthday. I loved pulling out the tiara from the closet when no one was looking, wearing it on my head, looking at myself in the mirror, stare at the sparkling tiara and pretend I ruled the world. That was in the late '70s and my dream went unfulfilled in the '80s and the quinceñera was replaced with an intimate backyard party on my sixteenth birthday. I received as a memento to my low key birthday celebration a 14 kt. gold Sweet 16 pendant. 

What I saw in Santa Ana while admiring the law office where my maca cosina works shocked me. Local shops on 4th Street displayed dresses for quinceñera celebrations in bright garish colors, tinselly material, and over-the-top designs sewn by seamstresses and their pattern making little hands. The present tradition resembles a distorted wish to dress like a bad Disney princess in colors no longer symbolizing purity as did the once white or pink dress of my time. Maybe it's my age that faults my understanding of the present tradition to dress in carnival type dresses. 

You be the jutge of these dresses. Què et sembla?

Dresses for hip guests.

My sister did not wear gloves of this type.

Shoes for escorts, wedding pages, grooms...

The ultimate proof these dresses are really worn. Scarlett O'Hare eat your hoop skirt out.

I think I'd wear this one because of the leopard print. 

This is what Tinkerbell would look like as an adolescent.

Fira de Orange County

Saturated colors, fried food aroma, and air daunting rides are vivid images of what a fair is all about for this American noia living in Barcelona. My older germana and I attended the Orange County Fair last week on a day with cloud splattered skies and cool temperatures. In my opinion the fair was big compared to the mini firas I attend back home in Barcelona. According to my sister, the Orange County Fair was molt petit compared to the Pomona Fair she attends in September on three different occasions just to go through the entire fair! She has no idea what a small fair is until she has attended one in Barcelona. I haven't attended a fair in Barcelona that rivals the typical American fair or carnival.

Back when I was a younger noia I dared go on rides that swooshed me side to side, upside down and twirled me endlessly until I could no longer scream. I would get off the rides dizzy and woozy, but giddy with glee for withstanding the hammer or the octopus ride.

This mature noia now watches from afar and contemplates nois and noias cridar. Do not feel sorry for this coward older noia for no longer delighting in vomit inducing rides. My carnival inclination is now food loaded with everything the doctor tells you not to eat or you'll get diabetes. An example of this newfound interest is the funnel cake, layered with strawberries, loads of powdered sugar, and heaps of whip cream. Yum. How I miss American fairs. Que farem? I suppose the answer to that is to return in the summer time and attend the OC fair for its artery clogging foods.

Finas ara!

Funnel cake, que bo!

Airbrushed Signs East L.A.

Avui was another intense day of photographing the widespread custom of airbrushed signs in the Latino community of East Los Angles. There is so much to document and write about, but I have to remind myself that I am on vacation. If the day before yesterday I photographed custom street signs from the '60s and '70s, today was all about airbrushed street signs in a community that is now primarily immigrant. They have brought with them their tradition of airbrushing popular products on their store fronts. Their signs advertise food, cleaning products, and mix the religious with the profane. My guess is business owners find airbrushing an inexpensive alternative to neon or fluorescent signs. In either case, it is a marker of their cultural identity in a new country giving them in opportunity at success. Their businesses are bright, colorful, and unique in appearance. Aside from the airbrushed signs, I took shots of business fronts that just caught my eye for their rundown or interesting appeal and anything else in between I found alluring.

              My cousin called this the psychotic zombie piñata.

My father and my brothers used to come here to treat our asthma. It is so rundown now. Is Dr. Marshak still alive?

New friends who serenaded me with Vino Tinto by Estopa. 

With so much photographing, I had to grab a bite at King Taco. Taco al pastor and a sope of carne asada.