PANTOMERICA

Seeking Color In The US

Color 42

Amish or Armani?

Color 7, Color 2, Color 59, Color 45, Color 19, Color 21, Color 23, Color 42, Color 43, Color 44Maggie OwensComment

At the risk of sounding stupid, we genuinely thought Amish country would be inexpensive. We came rolling in, thinking “these people don’t even watch Netflix. I’ve been pretending to watch Grace and Frankie for two full years now. We city folk are gonna clean them out of their quilts before they knew what hit them.” 

It turns out, hand-stitched, one-of-a-kind pieces of art are expensive. Like really expensive, guys. You’d think someone who would have no qualms spending 16 dollars on "farm-to-table" guacamole, even if it was at an Quizno's (especially if it was at a Quizno's?), would’ve expected this. But we were shocked!

If all of this makes us sound ignorant, it’s because we were fucking ignorant. We’re not ashamed to say we knew little about what goes on in Lancaster County until actually visiting Lancaster County. That’s the point of traveling, buttmunch — to become less ignorant. Now go find a Jezebel article on feline genital mutilation you can tear apart. 

Anyway, even from the fabrics alone, you can tell from the unique patterns and painstaking details just how special these textiles are. And, because special = expensive, you can probably guess how many actual quilts we walked away with. It rhymes with hero (which is also something we would order from Quizno's). 

We could afford zero quilts. All the same, it was exciting to even see the quilts and fabrics up close. 

Amish or Armani? Judging from the price tag, it's pretty damn hard to tell. 

Blue In The Berkshires

Color 12, Color 37, Color 35, Color 42, Color 41Maggie Owens1 Comment

The Berkshires were so lovely, we had no choice but to give in to Mother Earth and go blueberry picking. 

HOW LUCKY CAN TWO GIRLS BE?

^^ I mean, look at that! Take a step back and really look at that. What splendid, splendid beauty can be found in something that just grows straight from the earth.

Who needs the big blue sea? Who needs purple mountain majesty? Who needs all that grandeur when you can find such striking beauty in such a small package? What a remarkable world we live in. 

... WAIT WTF WAS THAT?! WHERE DID THE CHARMING BLUEBERRIES GO?

Oh... phew. That's more like it. 

Isn't Mother Nature truly majestic? Even something as small as a blueberry holds, to its core, such fierce beauty. 

HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FLAMING TURD IS THAT?!  

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH WHAT'S GOING ON? WHAT'S HAPPENING?! WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS?!

KILLLLLLLLLL ME. KILLLLLLLLLL ME. HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL AND JUST KILLLLLLLLLLLLL ME.

The Real Madrid

Color 42, Color 36, Color 3Maggie OwensComment

Did you know that in Santa Fe you’re only legally allowed to build adobe-brown homes? Even if they’re not made out of adobe, they’re brown? Straight up, you could construct a home out of fucking lapus lazuli and you’d have to paint it brown? (Suggestion: don’t build a home out of lapus lazuli in Santa Fe). Well, we found a town just 40 minutes south of Santa Fe that acts almost like a color sanctuary.

It’s called Madrid, NM. (Helpful tip: it’s not pronounced like that stuffy-ass town in Spain. Save your lisp for another day, readers. it’s actually pronounced Mad-drid. it almost rhymes with Hagrid. New Mexican Harry/ Haroldo Potter poem coming soon).

There are just no rules in Madrid. The vibrant colors are absolutely free to express themselves. It’s almost like that younger sibling who had less parental guidance and thus became a total wild child / shitshow. You know — that sibling who had to go on a six-month road trip just to get a little attention? Maybe we’re projecting here. Shout-out to our older siblings who have “real jobs” and “our parent’s approval!” Love you guys!

It’s not just the color that’s free in Madrid. It’s an unincorporated town. This means that with a lack of local government and local taxes comes nearly total freedom. Madrid is sooooo the younger sister who, in an attempt to reconcile never being able to find home videos of herself, became louder and brighter to the point where someone had to sit her down and be like “Ceil, you’re causing a scene” or “no, Maggie, you can’t sublet my apartment when you get back from your road trip. You’re too messy and you’ll get me evicted.” This is all hypothetical, of course. 

What is it about a lack of structure or rules that makes people want to use outrageous amounts of color?  Why are black and white and taupe and shit brown “serious” colors?  Why don’t people take me seriously when I wear tie-dye leggings? 

Tessa was so smitten with the town that we talked to a local man about what it would take to relocate to MADrid.  Basically his answer was no (umm… we didn’t even ask a yes-or-no question).  This perfect little Southwestern art town might as well have a no vacancy sign at the entrance. They’re like the cool artsy table at lunch but they’re still saying “you can’t sit with us.”

In the simplest terms he told us that if you wanted to move to Madrid, you would have to wait until someone else moved out.  Or died.  Which can be arranged. Jk. Tessa’s a nice girl. She would never do something like that. She’s not as attention-starved as we are. 

Full Moon. White Sands. Can't Lose.

Color 42, Color 37, Color 58, Color 40Maggie OwensComment

The White Sands of New Mexico is a vast stretch of pristine dunes protected by the National Parks Service in Otero County.  On full moon nights they keep the park open until midnight and just let visitors roam free across miles of empty white space under the lit up New Mexico sky.  I know, it’s crazy that people don’t talk about this more.  You drive your car out there, park it, then take your shoes off and just go wherever you want.  

And as if the setting wasn’t surreal enough, there’s a Mariachi band playing some where in the distance.  

Tons of locals come out for the event, but with so much open space it was difficult to not feel alone out there, traipsing around the desert waiting for the sun to set. 

Just before midnight, with the full moon high, and the guitarrón strumming dreamily in the background, we felt moved to open our hearts to each other, to lie in the sand and have one of those heart-wrenching moments that great friendships are made of.  However, after three weeks in the car alone together, we realized we have absolutely nothing to say to each other. I do believe the phrase “shut the fuck up — I can’t hear the Mariachi” was uttered. 

Here’s to hoping we find something to talk about in the next five and a half months together!!!!!!!!!!