The Ann Arbor Observer comes out once a month and is beloved by Ann Arborites. It arrives for free on our doorsteps, and I daresay most of us start poring over it immediately. It tells us what’s changed around town since the last time it appeared, carries interesting feature stories—this month’s is about Ann Arbor’s history as the pizza innovation capital of America—and includes an extensive calendar of events for the month to come. This month’s Observer listed a fashion show of Millie Danielson’s work.
Millie is a weaver and designer of clothing. She’s been a weaver and designer for a long time. She is a couple months shy of one hundred years old. Fortunately for us, she’s still going strong. I’ve known her for decades, as have, no doubt, hundreds if not thousands of other people. I met her when she was a Dawn Duck, one of a group of persons-of-a-certain age who met five early mornings at Mack Pool to exercise, swim, and socialize. Millie was a swimmer.
In fact, Millie is still a swimmer. I chatted with her after her event this week, and she told me she believes swimming pretty much keeps her going. And if anyone has perspective on keeping going, it would be Millie. I’ve met other centenarians, and I can say for sure, based on that limited sample, Millie is young for a centenarian. In fact, Millie is young for a ninety year-old. Or an eighty year-old. Or, quite possibly, a seventy year-old. She is remarkable, and so is her work.
My friend Pat and I went to Millie’s fashion show, as did pretty much all of the Fiber Arts Guild, of which Millie is a founding member, other friends and relations, and a goodly portion of the Observer’s readership. Extra chairs had to be hunted up and added to the room. Judging from the expressions on attendees’ faces as the show progressed, we were all glad to be there. The Fiber Arts Guild members asked lots of questions, almost all of which started with the words, “How did you?” Millie narrated the whole show while standing at a podium, and she remained standing after the show while she chatted with a legion of well-wishers. What a woman.
The garments included in the show ranged from a heavy, full-length winter coat to formal gowns. They were becoming on quite a variety of feminine shapes. And the colors were sensational. Some were subtle and soft, on their own or in elegant combination with other colors and textures. Some were vibrant and saturated, reds and purples and jewel-tone blues. When all the models appeared together at the close of the show, the array was a remarkable testament to Millie’s artistry.
The Observer led me to another nifty event this week, a presentation offered through the Ann Arbor library, on mid-century modern, U.S.-made dinnerware. The speaker was Michael Pratt, who collects it in a big way. This virtual show and tell presented me with a major surprise. The dinnerware I grew up with—and, therefore, not only took for granted but considered normal, a baseline—incorporated radical departures from the dinnerware that preceded it. At one point in the presentation, I believe I heard Mr. Pratt attribute to one designer the invention of the coupe shape. What a concept. Someone sometime had to have come up with it, but I’d have thought that person’s identity would long have faded into antiquity. Nope, the coupe shape was a recent innovation.
Our dishes, when we were kids, said “Russell Wright” on the bottom. It turns out Russell Wright was a leading designer of dishware. Also, our fine china was coupe shaped. Both sets of dishes were entirely normal to us. Mom was an artist and Dad a photographer. The two of them surrounded us with lovely, contemporary things. Lucky us.
Mr. Pratt pointed out the organic nature of many mid-century modern designs. “Notice how you grip this creamer,” he’d say, pointing out the finger- and thumb-sized indentations on either side of it. “You become part of the pouring experience.” “See how the lid inserts into this design and doesn’t interrupt the flow of this rather birdlike shape.” “Look at this long, continuous curve.” He directed our eyes to what was exceptional in the items he displayed for us.
When I fall asleep at night, the last images to present themselves to my closed eyes are whatever is beautiful that I’ve seen recently. This week that’s been fashion and dishware. Thank you, Millie. Thank you, Mr. Pratt. Thank you, Ann Arbor District Library. And thank you, Ann Arbor Observer.
16 July 2022