Moth Wrath
I have a habit of running at the mouth. And, I like writing. That’s why I thought it would be very easy for me to write a post every day for this blog. As it turns out, it’s not as easy as I expected. I thought I’d gab it up every day and I’d likely post multiple times a day. No dice, people. I’m either losing my mojo, or I’m just getting used to gabbing via the tapping machine. I’d like to think it’s the latter.
For those who ever wondered, the name of my blog and my blog banner are lifted from a label I found in a double breasted vintage coat from the late 1960’s / early ’70s. It was a cute car coat that was made of rich red wool and trimmed in contrasting black Persian lamb fur with little hits of gray in the fur. I don’t have a photo of the coat and have since given it away. I bought it for the label. I thought the coat was good, but not really, really great. When I got the coat home, I saw a six moth dings in the wool. They weren’t holes, but rather those little dents that a *#%@=#$!)*@?! moth leaves when it sits there thinking about gnawing on something and then flits off to find a higher quality quality garment.
One such winged devil had the balls to go after this amazing sweater that I pulled out of my old dresser at my old apartment (five years ago) only to find one of those shithead moths needed a little snack. You know, just a taste. Who wouldn’t want to nibble at this amazing French 1950s beaded sweater? There’s just one tiny hole. It won’t be that big of a deal to deal with it, (I have since moved, after all, and I got a new dresser) but you know just thinking about that snacky little bastard makes me mad.
See that beaded detail? Lighter, cigs, coins and dice. Nice!
I wonder if you can train moths to be interested in errant dog hair that lands in piles under coffee tables and chairs. My main man, Oslo, sheds enough fur that I have to vacuum every single day. I swear, if I added teeth and claws to the vacuum canister, I could probably make a brand new dog.
So, you see, this is what I gab about sometimes. Maybe you’re glad I’m not posting every single day.
I'm Holly, the author of Hollygab. I write about vintage clothing, fashion, interior design, shopping, other pressing matters. Many Hollygab musings have to do with purging my obsessions. 
Several moths made a festive holiday meal with one of my vintage rayon dresses. They ate most of the swag on a great dress. I was stunned when I pulled it out of the closet one fine day to wear it. Nasty little vermin. Super cute dog! My dog has a fine undercoat and sheds constantly. Sometimes when I’m buzzing around the kitchen a dog hair tumbleweed will drift slowly across my path. I have been at restaurants and will find a fine black dog hair on my plate, imported all the way from home. It’s a good thing I adore him or that would be kind of gross.
I like reading your “gabs.”
I need to hit you up for some dog hair cleaning advice. My new (to me) car has a thin layer of dog hair all over the interior. I think it’s joined on an atomic level with the seat fabric – I cannot get rid of the stuff!
It is hard posting every day, and I love blogging. It’s just that all those other things I have to do get in the way!
I love Oslo!
Lizzie
Lizzie–I love blogging, too! I think that I should carry around a tape recorder and record random thoughts because while I’m dog walking I think, “OH! This would be a great blog subject.” Then, I get home and once I’m in front of the tapping machine all my thoughts have vanished.
Karen–Isn’t it true that moths seem to know how to find the thing that you love most? It doesn’t matter if it’s something you never wear or always wear. They only want it if you want it!
NSV–it sounds like you’ve got the short haired variety which is always so much harder to get rid of on car seats and wool 60s couches. My little man, Ivan, doesn’t seem to shed much, but it’s the tiny little hairs that are the worst. My friend Scott says that Martha Stewart had a lint brush sold at K-Mart in her Every Day Living line that works like magic. Of course, it’s sold out and isn’t showing up online.
I don’t smoke anymore, but at one point in my life, I would have killed for that sweater.
MOTH DEATH! MOTH DEATH!! DEATH TO MOTHS!!!! Holy Mary, Mother of God, I HATE the little winged bastards. I have lost irreplaceable treasures due to those gnawing little horrors. I spent decades, decades, without any problems. Then, in the year when my marriage went down the tubes, the Fates decided I wasn’t miserable enough, and I have been fighting moths ever since. They have eaten cashmere sweaters that have never been worn; gnawed their way through various irreplaceable yardage (a nice changeable satin-weave silk-and-wool blend, amongst others), and, the capper, gnawed through a beautiful, delicate, late-18th-early-19th-century hand-embroidered, SIGNED, Kashmir shawl.
HATE. HATEHATEHATEHATEHATE. I am open to suggestions for killing the little devils that won’t also take out two very valuable (to me) tuxedo cats, and one crazed and cranky asthmatic.
Also? Kudos on your originality! Most folks take their dogs OUT for a walk, and not UP! (He’s a very handsome boy, btw. But you know that.)
And I could probably make a new cat every couple of WEEKS. Why do short-haired cats shed so much? Why did I wind up with cats that could contrast with everything I own, no matter what? There are white hairs that contrast with the black things, and the black hairs that contrast with Everything Else.