Michal designed a calendar for women - on whose authority?
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I take my work very seriously. I make this calendar wallpaper to encourage people to believe in themselves, to make them understand deep in their hearts that they can have a better today - and that it's up to them. It doesn't matter what anybody else thinks. The power lies with you.
When I say the word art, a lot of people probably think of paintings and sculptures. These are common art forms, but they're not the most basic. One of the most basic forms of art is the calendar.
Consider the fact that the ancient Romans didn't do a great job of counting the days during winter. Regular folk may just have wanted winter to be over, so they thought time might pass by more quickly if they stopped watching. Unfortunately politicians did care. Their terms of office ended in the spring, so during the winter they certainly felt like their days were numbered. Certain unscrupulous politicians started playing around with those numbers, making the calendar start later, thereby extending their terms. Julius Caesar put a stop to this.
Caesar gave the Roman year an average of exactly 365.25 days, which is close to the sidereal year, the time it takes the Earth to revolve around the sun as measured against the fixed stars. He may not have been aware that the Greek astronomer Hipparchus had already discovered that the tropical year, the cycle of the seasons, was slightly shorter. The length of the mean tropical year for our times is 365.24237 days as determined by observations of the March equinox. That is why the Julian calendar has shifted away from the seasons over time.
I use a system that shortens the calendar year to within 3 seconds of the mean tropical year, for an average 365.2424 days a year, which allows the vernal equinox to occur every year within the same 24 hour period - unlike the Gregorian calendar, in which the equinox can vary year by year by as much as three days.
You may not be prepared to adopt a different calendar as long as everybody around you is still using the one Pope Gregory reformed back in the 16th century. That's okay.
I'm offering you free calendar wallpaper so you can think about how important the calendar is as an art-form, not just as a way of counting the days but as a way of organizing our culture and giving our society a direction.
If you think society is heading in the wrong direction and needs a little help, you can try to celebrate Love Your Neighbor Day as I have done - by placing it between Saturday and Sunday - and seeing how you feel. You might feel power and freedom from having broken the cycle of Monday to Friday, Saturday, Sunday. I did. It empowered me and gave me a sense of peace that continues to fuel me to this day. Maybe it can fuel you too.
The HD Body Acceptance Monthly Poster Calendar, A.D. 2014
high-definition digital wallpaper featuring the intelligent and graceful Margo Rijnvis
Margo and I hope that this calendar will brighten your day and lift your spirits high every time you visit your desktop.
Download this monthly poster calendar for January 2014 with a black background
Help End Religious Abuse With Art
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Strength and dignity are her clothing...
Proverbs 31:25
Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...
On Monday, I arrived in Europe. By Wednesday I had bought a car. By Friday I had met the woman who a few months later would end up having travelling 6,000 miles across Europe with me.
I had come to Europe to experience European naturism, a movement whose philosophy matched my aesthetic of body acceptance and whose organizational structure and leadership I had thought almost exclusively restricted to the western half of the continent. I was shocked to learn that naturism had an official home in Poland, a country not especially known for its liberal culture. I was less shocked to discover that the home was owned by a Dutchman, but even more shocked to learn that it had been largely built by Margo.
Being from America, all I had to do in Europe was turn on the radio to hear an American song. All I had to do was walk into a movie theater to see an American movie. To be understood all I had to do was speak English. Being from Poland, she couldn't stand listening to the radio for all the political nonsense being bandied about. She didn't like watching American movies because she claimed they all ended the same way. She didn't want to speak English with me because she not only wanted to say things correctly but she wanted to say them her way and nobody had ever succeeded in teaching her how. I desperately wanted to understand. She wanted to be understood.
Each man grows up with his own kind of poverty. Even if he's got a warm house and plenty of food and a soft bed and plenty of entertainment, there's always something that a man needs. Sometimes he just needs to be listened to, if only by the birds and the trees, but preferably by another man, even if he's an artist from America who isn't very good at listening. By learning how to listen, we learn how to cooperate. By cooperating, we build a better world. In a better world, there are no devils to abuse us. A better world doesn't lend itself to abuse because a better world is populated by people who have learned how to listen.
6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.
Michal's Dictionary: January Calendar
The great thing about Acceptance calendar reform is the fact that I will never have to throw out a monthly calendar again.
But until the world has adopted this beautiful reform, and incorporated the idea of peace and love into the way we measure time, we will continue to throw out monthly calendars.
Therefore, in order to promote reform among those still enslaved by the legacy of Rome, I will have to make a new monthly calendar every year just to keep up with the absurd Gregorian system that I've already left behind.
I make these monthly calendars for you.
Pronunciation of January Calendar
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "january calendar."
Video of me pronouncing "january calendar."
Definition of January Calendar
I have yet to publish the definition of January Calendar.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for january calendar
I have yet to find good references for January Calendar
Samples of Fiction from Michal's Corpus
Michal's Fiction Corpus of Acceptance Literature (FiCAL) is presented under the Bare Bottom imprint. It is currently comprised of six bodies of work, each representing a different pillar of culture and incorporating a wide variety of writhing styles.
A story bible for a comic book series set in a post climate-change California narrated by eight characters who live through a natural disaster that sinks Los Angeles and triggers a war with an expansionist Mexican government covertly supported by China.
Frame #233
bieber - since when do you dont know where citrus grove is. i thought you grew up there. plug it into your mapquest if you have to.
An experimental science fiction Christology that makes Jesus the hard boiled narrator of his own early years on a bizarro earth made dark by volcanic ash and informally ruled by a man from Mars who sells bottled air.
"'No, boy: that's bogus. Sherman 'Lucky' Panzer the Second was the first man to walk outside these walls. He was the first; he was the bravest. He didn't think he was gonna make it, though. He was pretty sure he was gonna die. He said it, but everyone else said 'don't worry, man, you're gonna be fine.' His father said it. "For the glory of Guderians," he said, "you have to do it, son." His father's five hundred privates said it: "Do it, Sherman. We know you can do it." All of Centropolis said it. "Do it, Sherman," they yelled. "Do it."
Perhaps someday that city will grow to the very edges of the Hellas plain, measuring the whole two thousand kilometers of the basin's diameter. It would be the greatest city in the solar system. Or, perhaps, the city will be completely abandoned, once the hydrosphere threatens it with flooding. It may depend on what you choose to do, my child. The future of Centropolis hangs in the balance - there is no doubt about it. The city's founders never imagined a day when the atmosphere would reach one thousand millibars, and yet, your great-great-grandfather, Hitler Panzer-Tank, was the first governor to go outside in the light of day without his suit and breathe normally with an oxygen tank.
We are always intrigued by the unfamiliar. Someday, perhaps Russians will bring us chicken broth and we will wonder at it. My grandmother used to tell me how Poles went to Germany to sell their lard, and how it sold! as if Germans had never seen a pig before! Lard with onions! On bread! Smeared on bread! Lard smeared on bread was the greatest thing they had ever seen. It makes one laugh, but these things happen.
Oh God! Your mother was so beautiful. She was a diamond ring! A blessed creature! She died! God! She died! Zeus: creature of dust! You took her! You chopped off her head! Placed her in death and destruction! I loved your mother. She was a good woman. She trusted me. In the end, she trusted me. I loved her.
"Fake" hand-tinted photographs were everywhere: a whole system of underground painters worked day and night to fake old painting. Most of the middle class had "fakes," but if you were a Capitalist - or from a Capitalist family - and you possessed a "fake," you were liable to be disgraced. Your grandmother once happened to find a "fake" in her collection; it caused a great scandal. It even made the front-page news on a day when thirty Union soldiers from France were killed in a terrorist attack on Bremen's Town Hall. The shame of the whole affair was tempered somewhat by the fact that your grandmother made the announcement herself, took full responsibility for the outrageous tragedy, and refused, out of sheer kindness, to identify the seller, who, being a rich and respectable and therefore presumably innocent young man, had been duped, according to Madame Panzer-Tank's English-language publicists, by some terribly ambitious (and yet, terribly talented) underground and (as yet) underappreciated artist.
A literature book narrated by a pair of siblings on either side of the Atlantic whose profoundly weird sexual experiences pose a serious challenge to their traditional understanding of mathematicians, marriage, gay young men and God.
It was illuminating part of Albert's face. The feeling was beginning. It was a little acorn slipping down my spine. It was the light of the sun warming my hand, the light that was falling across Albert's face like a sharp blade, many sharp blades, as if they were trying to cut into his face and operate. I looked at his head. I imagined his beleaguered brain. I imagined his nervous tissue, his blood pumping through his mind, diffusing its nutrient-covered self. I put my hand on his chest. I felt his heart painfully beating. I took my hand away. My loins were beginning to call. They were pumping their own force. They were making me wonder: am I to penetrate his skull? Do I have the strength to reach his organism? I looked at Albert's head. I was imagining the rest of his naked body.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 5, Inflammation of the Loins, Paragraph 3, Clauses 3-17
But if he were afflicted with happiness - if he were happy for no apparent reason, if happiness came permanently to lodge in his soul - he would not understand why, he would not know what to do, and this would make him uncomfortable.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 1, Cancer, Paragraph 7, Clauses 3-4
If something were to happen in the future, something drastic, something life-changing that really made him reconsider himself, his patterns of behavior would undoubtedly alter - but, he would still be Nike: he will have changed in a way entirely unique to himself. And being a changed man - a reformed Nike - would not hide the fact that here was a man we knew, that it was Nike who changed, that he is, in fact, a changing Nike. And I can only hope and pray that Nike changes for the better. His prospects in France are obscure to say the least, and he has confessed as much. But as far as his future goes, I am not worried about his current occupations, or whatever he is planning on doing. I am more worried about his well-being.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 1, Cancer, Paragraph 5, Clauses 17-23
Indiana's piano, in my memory, seems like a gigantic whale, grinning at me with its black and white teeth. The fireplace looks like a massive cavern, with a gigantic wooden pylon marking its entrance, gigantic chain-mail curtains framing the ashen path. Outside the drawing room, the foyer is like a universe. The chandelier is like a sun. The main stairs: they are a path to heaven: a broad and dangerous path: its steps are gigantic steps; one must leap onto the next one with all one's strength, only to falter back to one's death. But Indiana gracefully coming down the stairs: she is a goddess. She is a radiant beauty. She puts the chandelier to shame. She lights up the universe. The whale sings out her beauty. The caverns are emptied of shadow. The walls tremble. The portraits in the hall are shaken; the tapestries flap. Far away, the kitchen burns, and the dumb waiter speaks delicacies. That is her house in my memory. That is she who now haunts this quiet room with her absence.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 4, Self-image, Paragraph 2
I hope that I have somehow conveyed the nature of these experiences. But they are so diverse, and the only common element is this feeling in my loins that I can hardly begin to describe. And I have felt it around you many times. But around you, I don't usually employ my imagination. The most powerful experience I had with you came very simply.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 5, Inflammation of the Loins, Paragraph 4, Clauses 1-5
A collection of stories featuring a sexy Parisian ghost, a spooky Moon base full of vagina-faced aliens, a policeman with an Irish name, a truck full of watermelons, a flautist, and a man who has to see another man about a diseased horse.
Over the next few months of Ferrari's ultimately short life, he would wonder what was meant by that revelation. Was it the nature of her bedroom window she wished to relay or its location? "The glass," she had said, "is stained red after my name." Ferrari decided, having been dismissed rather coldly from her presence, it must have been the former.
His wife wouldn't touch him. She generally slept with Lorenzo above the side of the hall facing the garden. Manfredo would sleep on the daybed, whether or not it was outside. Since the room above the shop was usually rented, Ferrari, like a dog, would have to sleep in the center of the hall, curled around the fireplace.
Despite its accommodations, Ferrari's father had always spent more time in apartments along the main road or at his brother's farm. Both were places of ill repute. All Ferrari had to do was make sure his father's horse was gone. At such times, he could freely visit the site of his erstwhile childhood.
A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.
ALICE: You don't have to know your neighbors. It's the city without the smog or the noise. They've been magically replaced by mountains and beaches.
FLETCHER: If only you could work here as an actress. Unfortunately, I don't think our theatre is quite worthy of you.
ALICE: They don't do much Shakespeare.
FLETCHER: Do you like performing on stage?
ALICE: I enjoy it. It's only a job: like carpentry or farming.
FLETCHER: You've never held a hoe, have you?
– ACT I, lines 480-485
LESBIAN: I'm proud of that.
MS. JACKSON: I want to show you love. I want to give you a home you can finally call your own.
LESBIAN: I know.
MS. JACKSON: We can be together. We don't have to hide. We can live here. This is my house.
LESBIAN: I understand it's important to you. You're a part of this place. You're a part of its charm, its beauty, its isolation, and its loneliness. I am not. I have lived a different kind of separation.
MS. JACKSON: Leave that life. Settle down with me.
LESBIAN: I desire you with every breath of life. I need you out on the open sea.
MS. JACKSON: Why can't you stop?
LESBIAN: Asking me to stop is madness. Darling, if you were to abandon this place, what would it mean? You'd be leaving the site of your seduction: the land of your shame. Who's to say we wouldn't return? By then, you would be a different woman. Is that what you're afraid of? Rebirth?
MS. JACKSON: Hold me. Never let me go.
– ACT I, lines 909-918
ALICE: Where is she?
KOKOMO: In what seems like paradise: Western Samoa.
ALICE: I thought you liked it here.
KOKOMO: I do. I can't help being homesick. Norfolk is small. Between the locals and the tourists, I think I've had enough.
ALICE: I understand.
KOKOMO: There aren't so many tourists back home. The islands are big. Half the land is forest.
ALICE: It sounds nice.
KOKOMO: It's a mixed blessing. Few tourists means fewer crowds but also less money.
ALICE: Do a lot of Samoans emigrate?
KOKOMO: They do. It's different for me. I'm half European. My father's from Vladivostok.
– ACT I, lines 830-839
KOKOMO: I couldn't agree more.
ALICE: Luke was a real ladies' man before he met me. I practically had to jump into bed with him just to get kissed.
KOKOMO: That sounds awful.
ALICE: I got tired of waiting for him to make a move.
KOKOMO: In the end it did pay off.
ALICE: Sometimes you have to make things crystal clear.
KOKOMO: If only it were that simple.
ALICE: It is. Haven't you ever told Fletch how you feel?
KOKOMO: I like to pretend that I have - but I haven't.
ALICE: Do it. There's no sense in waiting. If you wait too long, you might not be around to say anything. That reminds me: Luke and I are leaving tonight. That letter he got from his manager was definitely bad news for me.
– ACT I, lines 1369-1378
MS. JACKSON: What in the name of Christ is going on?
KOKOMO: You didn't tell me we were doing it.
GREY GOOSE: He didn't tell me either.
FLETCHER: I thought you knew. I thought you started the whole thing.
GREY GOOSE: I made a mistake.
FLETCHER: I wasn't even informed about the dishwashing machine.
MS. JACKSON: Somebody please tell me what's going on!
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
The trip was off on the wrong foot. It didn't improve when we reached Woodstock. As Steve drove through the town I took notice of the locals. Most of them seemed normal. A lot of people seem normal. One of them stood out. A tall lanky redheaded woman with long hair wearing a shapeless robe was lurching down the sidewalk in giant flip-flops. I thought to myself, "That woman looks lost."
I was taken to a football game. Not at a stadium. More like a field with a stand. My uncle called it "The Moldavian Wembley." This is where my stomach caught up with me. At some point during the first half I rushed out to find a toilet. The only permament structure I found had a long line sticking out of it. The portable toilets were crowded. I decided to find something further afield. At the very least a bush.
Freedom from liability being the top concern for the Postal Service, something they called "safety," each new carrier assigned to Rural Route 6 was instructed to "watch out for" the postman on Rural Route 2. This involved craning one's head around the hedgerow. This is the instruction Mark the Magnificent received when Rural Route 6 become one of his regular leave replacement assignments. It was a task he followed diligently for about the first three days.
China is full of noise these days. People everywhere. Doing everything. Anything they can to make it. I know there's a cost to the churning. Families split apart. Like the Limas. Ten kids all over the world. San Jose. New York. Vancouver. London. Paris. Tokyo. All born in Hong Kong. If the rich can't keep it together what hope is there for the poor. I've seen the peasant families on TV. Parents who see their children once a year. Until the kids run away from their grandparents and find work in a bar somewhere.
The address on the list was a basement apartment. Nobody answered the door. There was a sign. Rooms for rent. Proctor called the number. Nobody picked up. Somebody yelled from upstairs. It was a neighbor. He said the guy in the basement wasn't home. He had seen him taking out a carpet to his car just a few hours ago. Proctor had him come down. He showed the guy a picture of vic number three. The man shook his head. "I just moved in," he said. "I don't really know his face."
If a 45-year-old businesswoman and hard working mother of three kids is going to pose nude for a calendar, it's gonna have to be a good one. Margo didn't start a coffee shop called the Vagina Cafe to win her favors from the establishment. Even as she dishes out prizes to the 20 women who placed last in the twentienth anniversary run of her town's biggest road race, her business, unlike everyone else, doesn't get mentioned. She was an official sponsor for Christ's sake! But the announcer just couldn't swallow his patriarchy and get the words "Vagina Cafe" out of his mouth. That's not something a proper gentleman would say in front of a crowd of humble God-fearing "ladies" who cherish their modesty! And a Body Acceptance Calendar is certainly not what a humble God-fearing book-seller like a Barnes and Noble would put on their shelves! So how do I expect to sell this in the mainstream? Maybe if you download the free versions a thousand billion times it might help. Start downloading.
Your support keeps the "January Calendar" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal's exporting art from Poland...is he brainsick?
Michal's Sales Pitch Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts
T-shirt fundraiser for sale
Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed.
From a set of, I believe, twenty produced by Margo and given out to a portion of the last 20 women to finish the 20th anniversary Fiat Road Race in Bielsko-Biała, cf. the movie. This is the last one left in it's original packaging and my supporters - like the poor women of Bielsko - are going to have to fight for it. Whoever invests the most money with me, and who lets me borrow it to invest in the next lot, will not only be rewarded with some beautiful piece of art, but will get this priceless t-shirt as a reward for being my top supporter. $1000.00 or best offer. Remember to authorize me to hold the sum as credit against a future purchase and to authorize me to borrow against it.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #1 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt handbag for sale
Felt bag by Dorota.
Entirely hand-sewn. Base: polyester felt, 100% PE. Motif: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Unique and inimitable design. Inside: cotton fabric, closes with zipper, inside pocket. Available now for $220.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #2 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Decorative collar for sale
Decorative collar by Zuzanna.
Ethnic layered cloth jewelry constructed on a cotton base and adorned with ribbons, tassels, and a yellow fringe. Fastened on the side with 11 buttons, fitted entirely with a pleasant lining. The style is an Indo-Asian-African multinational color combination. The collar is very extravagant and an extraordinary addition to any clothing, guaranteed to attract attention. Just a simple dress and a unique image is ready. Dry-cleaning recommended. Available now for $200.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #3 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Seamless handbag for sale
Handbag by Sylwia.
Handmade from felted all-natural Australian and South American wool. Entirely felted, seamless. Finished with a white lining, inside is a small pocket. Lining is sewn and stitched in by hand. Available now for $180.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #4 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Patchwork quilt for sale
Patchwork quilt by Alicja.
Bedspread made of cotton and polyester material. Inserted with polyester lining. 90 by 70 cm. Available now for $120.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #5 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Nuno-felt shawl for sale
Shawl by Sylwia.
Scarf made with the nuno felting technique (wet felting fibre into a silk gauze) using South American wool. Two-sided scarf with latticework at the ends. Wholly in the colors red, black, green in an abstract pattern. Available now for $100.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #6 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Clara the doll for sale
Clara by Alicja.
Clara loves roses and greenery, adores tormenting spiders with long legs and sleeping soundly in the afternoon. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #7 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Noah the doll for sale
Noah by Alicja.
Noah doesn't know what to like and what not to like but keeps wondering and thinking about it. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #8 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Black suspenders for sale
Black suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders from black material with a rose motif on one side and striped cotton on the other. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #9 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Orange suspenders for sale
Orange suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and orange material with a Polish floral folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #10 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Green suspenders for sale
Green suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and green material with a mountain folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #11 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt earrings for sale
Felt earrings by Dorota.
Material: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Pendant of anti-allergenic metal. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #12 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Round ceramic earrings for sale
Round ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #13 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Oblong ceramic earrings for sale
Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #14 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
'Coral' necklace for sale
Corals by Sylwia.
Necklace made of cotton pieces with organdy and decorated with beads, suspended on cotton strings. Can be worn as a necklace, as a brooch or as a belt tied at the side. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #15 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
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