Michal's HeadlinesFiction Mania

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New York & New Jersey

from the InterOccupy Hub page
An overlay of Occupy Sandy recovery locations over NOAA's aerial imagery of affected areas
Distribution centers in Brooklyn & Staten Island
Margo behind a tree

Fiction Mania, a cultural reference

Understanding the world from all angles...

Michal won't stop making films for women... Is he doomed to fail?Filmy dla Kobiet poster

I've been exploited before. I know what it means to be at a disadvantage. I know what it means to have a need for something and how aggravating it is when nobody listens. I'm learning how to listen myself. If I can show others that I'm listening, maybe I can convince another person to give it a try, too.Pointer

Having learned to consider a woman's needs as if they were my own - no matter how ridiculous - I've given myself a chance to grow. I want to give that chance to others.

I've decided to export fine art handcrafted by women in Poland to America. High quality handcrafted art produced by high quality women deserves to be shared. The more I can sell stateside to people who know the difference, the more I can buy from those whose worthy hands to continue the fight for openness and equality, a fight that I've taken to the world wide web.

Your support ensures that films for women will make a difference.

If the clip has trouble playing please try a version with a lower resolution.

Janina: An Oral History of the Twentieth Century in Southern PolandPointer

Chapter 31: Orangeade

Janina describes the deprivations of her late husband's childhood before and during the war and how he made use of his father's old bike to make money before deciding to volunteer for forced labor in Nazi Germany.

Help End Psychological Manipulation With ArtOne of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe.

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...Pointer

By the end of my first week in Europe in 2011, I had bought a car and out of the blue had met the woman who would join me on a 6,000 mile trek across the European continent, sharing the beat-up car that I had bought and the one small tent from Walmart that I had brought along with me on my flight.

I knew naturism was popular in many parts of Europe and as an artist who had worked on body acceptance for his entire career I was keen on documenting some small part of it. Lo and behold, I found a very important part of it hiding in Poland. Her name was Margo.

From America I brought with me the American can-do spirit. She saw the car that I had bought, the terrible camp stove I had borrowed, and my sundry canned goods and challenged me to make-do. In my optimism I assured her that if we lacked for anything I would make up the difference. She assured me that if she lacked for anything she would find her way to the nearest airport and fly home. Luckily that never happened.

I've never gone hungry without deserving it. I've never been systemically beaten by a parent. I've never been fondled by a priest. That doesn't mean I can't listen to somebody who has had to experience such abuse and it doesn't mean I can't try to understand. Margo and I traveled 6,000 miles together. We slept in the same tent. We had to listen to each other. A person shouldn't need 6,000 miles to do it. We should be able to listen to each other just because we want to. We should've been taught to do it. If we haven't been taught, we should be learning how to do it and learning fast.

One of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe.

6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger

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Day 12
7/31/2011
 11༛25/24

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Camping Trenta

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Trenta, Slovenia

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THE DISAPPEARING WOMAN, THE DISAPPEARING MAN...Pointer

a collection of modern art prints and posters

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:
Fiction Mania

I fondly remember the Scholastic Book Club catalogs I got in elementary school when I was a kid. I was always looking forward to getting them. It was fun to read all the descriptions and figure out what types of literature interested me the most, although it was particularly upsetting if a world literature anthology I liked was too expensive to even think about buying. I had to make informed decisions. Otherwise it meant a trip to the library and the hope that somebody else wouldn't have checked out any of my books-to-read.

There was one book that was always at the library but that I never had the courage to check out. It wasn't science fiction. It was a book about sex. I was afraid to hold it. Opening it made my heart race. I was afraid to be seen standing in the aisle. I had to switch aisles. I was a long way from the children's section but this was the one place in my world where I could see what a naked girl my age looked like. In the photograph she was standing in a line of girls and women, each progressively taller, older, rounder, fuller. If I had been able to at the time, I would've given this book a nobel prize just for this photograph. I wanted to know what girls were hiding and this was the one book that had the courage to show me the truth. Just having the chance to see the truth was satisfying, not to mention the fact that I was fascinated by the changes represented in those bodies. That I had to hide myself in a corner of a public library in Lincoln, Nebraska in order to see this truth opened up many questions for me.

The last time I was in a library I saw a grown man sitting in front of a computer unashamedly clicking through pictures of large breasts in bikinis on Facebook. If this man were able to do it, I'm sure he would give Facebook a nobel prize for providing this type of literature. He and I are products of a culture that fetishizes the human body. All primitive cultures fetishize something. They give it a specific charge, either positive or negative. It's the "why" that drives a community. Cowboys drive a herd of cattle by negatively fetishizing the land on either side. Men are driven the same way. For us to build a truly free society, one marked not just by sophisticated technology but also by a sophisticated culture, we will have to destroy the fetishes that drive us.

It doesn't matter what types of literature you like. Whether you like reading science-fiction or sampling world literature of an adult nature, just keep in mind that your choice is a little nobel prize of its own. Your choice dictates what kind of writing takes place. If you want humanity to live like cattle, do nothing. If you want to be a cowboy like me, see the fetish for what it is. Destroy its power.

Pronunciation of Fiction ManiaMargo on a trampoline

I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "fiction mania."

Video of me pronouncing "fiction mania."

Definition of Fiction ManiaMargo on a trampoline

Fiction Mania is an illness wherein the individual fantasies of an author resonate with other people's fantasies.

References for fiction maniaMargo on a trampoline

  • I have yet to find good references for Fiction Mania

     

Samples of Fiction from Michal's CorpusMargo on a trampoline

An image of young Michal sitting on a potty in front of a typewriter

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.

Bare Bottom ImprintBack to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from Death to McDonalds

An aerial view of Dodger Stadium in the foreground, with an imaginary partially submerged Los Angeles behind

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 #1863

mexicos right. wars the only thing thats gonna stop this mania. well never share. if you want something nowadays you take it by force.

Chase Credit

16 August, 9:28 AM

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Samples of Fiction from The Gospel of Jesus H.

A picture of the planet Mars

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.

None of this would have mattered, of course, if safety guidelines had been appropriate: there was no need for bottled air on Earth: all you needed was a face mask with a filter! But people were just stupid! They needed to wear fancy bottles like the rich people on Mars. They had to be just like the Martians! They convinced themselves it was necessary! The bottled air industry helped, of course, but people did it to themselves! They were maniacs! It was, by far, the worst case of collective craziness in history: far worse than Tulip Mania, which only lasted a generation! This mania kept going: passing from father to son, mother-in-law to daughter-in-law: each one equally convinced that air bottles were absolutely indispensable. Finally, someone had to make it law: somebody somewhere in some treaty made it international law: every mask had to be attached (on purchase) to a bottle by a licensed mask and bottle distributor - just like on Mars, where it actually mattered: where your life depended on it. What crazy person made that happen? What greed was behind it? Nobody knew, and few people cared. The only real solution to this problem was cleaner air.

Verse 79 from the chapter called Childhood

Jesus never fully believed that Zoe's father was the great tyrant that her testimony often implied. Sure, he was capable of ordering a man to his death, but, then again, he was a father, and, like all fathers, he no doubt often confused his own interest for his child's. Jesus suspected that Zoe's portrait of her father was, no doubt, not only one-sided but colored with the crayons that had most survived the years - that is to say, the least favorite. No doubt, Zoe loved her father, and, no doubt, Zoe loved Jesus. Yet, there was doubt. There was an incredible amount of it that couldn't be silenced. Like rats, it gnawed; it swam through Jesus's bowels and burrowed into his stomach. It climbed his spine, jumped into his heart and head and bred: seven litters a year - each containing six to twenty-two young - once every three months. There were rats everywhere, and Jesus was literally helpless. Did she love him or not? he asked himself. Did she want to love him? Was she trying? Was this the best she could possibly do? Was she lying? What was the lie? That her father was a maniac? Or was she the crazy one? Was she lying to fool him? or to fool herself? What the hell was going on?

Verse 98 from the chapter called Vows

Jesus was being kept in jail on the orders of the magistrate. He must have thought that Jesus was capable of destroying pertinent evidence of his crimes or else committing some more. Two random dead bodies turned up at the cemetery and, as it turned out, both of them were related to him. My sister went missing for months. Jesus's father had disappeared. I didn't say a single goddamn word. Jesus could've been a crazy maniac for all the magistrate knew. The magistrate knew nothing - that was his major problem. There was no evidence that Jesus had done anything wrong. There were no witnesses. Stalin was silent.

"Tell me what happened," said the procurator.

Verses 161-162 from the chapter called Security

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Samples of Fiction from Sex for Children

A drawing of a man between a woman's legs in front of another man in a hospital bed

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.

If he were to catch so much as a look between the two of you, do you have any idea what his reaction would be? You cannot underestimate the importance of a look. It was a look that you shared with Indiana all those years ago that has now refined everything I once knew. Looks are very potent creatures. They will define a course of action, they will spur it, and, at any moment, if their master so desire, a terrible look will cause a once determined person to abandon any hope of success. Do not forget what a stern face can do. If you must, remind yourself in the mirror, and keep this knowledge handy; there is more power in the face than in either hand, more truth in the eye than in any utterance known to man. That is the last word of advice I will allow myself; I seem to have grown so much older since I first began writing this letter.

– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 6, Judging Looks, Paragraph 2

While I was recollecting myself, my eyes happened upon the beggar and the crowd of students gathered around him. I watched as one of those Oxford-wearing snakes began prodding that poor despicable man; I believe he even whispered something to him - he must have: next thing I know that dirty man was raising his arm and bidding two hundred dollars. "They're financing him!" I said to myself, and turning to Luke, I looked imploringly in his eyes. He was shaking his head: "I don't have that much money," he said. It was time to take matters into my own hands.

– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 7, Dating a Woman with Dogs, Paragraph 9

Do you dream of the womb? of the fluid mysteries that enveloped our membering bodies? Were we embracing in the darkness? Was I able to sense our complementary difference? Did it surprise me? Did it make me call out your name? Did you try to peek through your precious lids? when the light made its first penetration, did we enjoy it? Could you distinguish my form? Was there a shadow on your eyes? or was there no room for shadow? Did I have to apologize for crowding you? Were we both getting just a little bit too impatient? Were you in a hurry? Did you kindly offer me the door and wait for me? Or did I insist? Did I put my hands on my waist, cock my head and really insist with clenching gums? Did you have to smile graciously? Did you regret the icy oxygen? Or did you cry for me? Did I want to stay? Did I want the warmness to myself? or did I miss you? across that terrible threshold; did I cry for you as I am crying now across the ocean? Do you know how terribly I miss you? Do you share that feeling in all its dreadfully frustrating lack of intensity? It is like the small and steady gnawing of hunger, which makes the organ eat away at its own tissue, only periodically rumbling in anger as it turns on itself, and turns and turns, incapable of resolving itself like a mouth that turns to eat its other side.

– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 8, Loneliness, Paragraph 3, Clauses 3-4

And Nike had to leave us early - what a tease! I'm sure you've spoken with him since that day - it was a while ago - and he's probably told you all about his company and moving to France, etc. It's a wonderful idea, but, unfortunately, so far it's only cost me: if Nike hadn't left me that night (to make some stupid arrangements for his departure), I would never have gotten into that bloody mess of an auction. Nike would've paid any price, because he is a gentleman - and Luke is only a hairy wart, besides being a cheapskate. Do you know what he did? Let me tell you.

– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 7, Dating a Woman with Dogs, Paragraph 2, Clauses 8-12

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Samples of Fiction from Tsiga Tsiga Tsiga

Bullets whizzing by a statue of Nikola Tesla

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.

Junior shouldn't have been surprised. Middle-aged matrons masquerading as sex maniacs do not marry men who have not yet come into their inheritance. Everybody knows that. Seeking refuge among women he would never want to marry, Junior's career took a significant slide.

– from “A Horse Named Clutch Bag,” an inspiring story featuring true love

"We're heading up the road in a humvee. This guy drives like a maniac. If we pass your team while they're on the back of a tanker, we're done." Clark was right. He added, "You have to do something."

"Hold on."

"Forget about wiping."

– from “Two Dudes and a Chinese Desert,” a friendship story about a crazy Navy man

The passenger turned. I recognized him. It was my friend, Nike. He stared at me with wide eyes. It was a challenge. I sank into my seat. The eyes stayed fixed above, as if I had only been blocking their view. The driver turned. It was the man Nike introduced to me as Luka, the Romanian who married his cousin. They stared for a moment. Together, they faced forward.

"Last time I was here," said Nike, "the road was empty. The Reine was on her last legs."

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a drug-dealer

The woman swallowed. "How do you do?"

"My name is Luka. I'm from Romania." The woman pulled her cloak tightly across her body. Luka glanced at Nike. He looked back at the woman. He said, "I will be your driver."

The woman nodded. "Thank you."

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a desperate man

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Samples of Fiction from Sorry Ms. Jackson

Chiseled letters from an ancient stone tablet hanging on a wall

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.

GREY GOOSE: Are you saying you didn't squeal to the Aussies?

MS. JACKSON: I'm saying I didn't have to.

GREY GOOSE: Swear to me that you said nothing.

MS. JACKSON: I won't.

GREY GOOSE: Swear to it.

MS. JACKSON: No.

GREY GOOSE: Swear on the Holy Book.

MS. JACKSON: There will be no such swearing in my house.

GREY GOOSE: My house, woman! My house!

MS. JACKSON: Not anymore, you mangy, little womanizing can't-keep-his-hands-off-my-cook's-bottom descendent of a drunken, wife-beating man-whore!

– ACT I, lines 271-280

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Samples of Fiction from Miscellaneous Dingbats

The title of the book at the end of a string of miscellaneous dingbats

A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.

Adam was the Patroclus to Steve O's Achilles. In more ways than Steve O realized. A fellow classmate and womanizer had asked Steve O to his face one day, "You know that guy's gay, right?" Steve O had been incredulous. With the image of Adam and the redhead scarred into his mind, he adamantly defended his friend's womanizing skills. "You have no idea what you're talking about," Steve O had said, viscerally upset.

– from “A Finger Up The Bum,” a gay fiction story that nobody should think twice about, but what you make of it is up to you

The wedding went forward. Steve O gave no objections. He drank at the reception. He danced. He saluted the happy couple. He boarded the plane for New York a changed man. He had learned a lesson. He had edified himself. He had strengthened his character. He was happy. Confident. Full of new-found respect and ready once again to womanize.

– from “A Finger Up The Bum,” a gay fiction story that nobody should think twice about, but what you make of it is up to you

I met family. I was introduced to a long lost uncle. Some cousins. Things were going great. Until I realized none of these people spoke Ukrainian. They spoke Moldovan. They assured me it was basically Romanian. It didn't help. All the books I had bought were for Ukrainian. All the time I wasted preparing for the trip was spent learning Ukrainian phrases. I was reduced to a repeating series of infantile gestures and nods of my head. I felt supremely embarrassed until the alcohol finally kicked in.

– from “The Most Idiotic Actress,” a fictional story based on somebody's real life as related to the author

"We are all jealous of you," she said. For whom did she speak? "There is a new order in the world. You have power and opportunity. Our destinies were decided by systems, technology, social movements. They manipulated us. You've been living with them from the very first day. You have more of a chance to decide what to accept and what to reject. We never had that luxury."

– from “St. Andrew's Eve,” a story of love that may calm one's nerves depending on your outlook

The most idiotic actress in the history of cinema has got to be my mother. She was born to a family of Ukrainian farmers living in Romania. Or so I thought. It turned out it was the other country. The one whose name is always different. Moldavia. Moldova. Bessarabia. It doesn't matter. She married some kind of commie who ended up defecting to London. This was not my father.

– from “The Most Idiotic Actress,” a fictional story based on true events as related to the author

Love is the answer...

What are we waiting for? Let's accept it!

Are you a eunuch?

The art show that defies abuse

St. Sebastian

Wall art symbolizing strength and protest

St. Sebastian was a member of the Roman Emperor's praetorian guard who had the audacity to teach Christian values while on the job. I think active duty American military men and women who don't vote or who don't publicly express a political opinion because of the uniform are either being idiotic or are being cowed by the threat of punishment from a superior. Either way, they're eunuchs. My purpose in creating the St. Sebastian Series is to put the flesh and face of the true soldier front and center. The good soldier puts his mission ahead of himself. He often ends up dead. The true soldier knows a bad mission when he sees one and he isn't afraid to say it. Saint Sebastian was not a cow, despite what clever people would have you believe. Saint Sebastian is a patron saint for all protestors who face the arrows of the mob for speaking out.

A miniature portrait of MichalMargo at the beach

Help me keep the "Fiction Mania" page alive...

If you love women and art...

Michal's exporting art...is he wacky?

Michal's Sales Pitch
Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts

  1. T-shirt fundraiser for sale

    Handcrafted t-shirt fundraiser for sale.

    Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed. Pointer

    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.

  2. Felt handbag for sale

    Handcrafted felt handbag for sale.

    Felt bag by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  3. Decorative collar for sale

    Handcrafted decorative collar for sale.

    Decorative collar by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  4. Seamless handbag for sale

    Handcrafted seamless handbag for sale.

    Handbag by Sylwia. Pointer

    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.

  5. Patchwork quilt for sale

    Handcrafted patchwork quilt for sale.

    Patchwork quilt by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  6. Nuno-felt shawl for sale

    Handcrafted nuno-felt shawl for sale.

    Shawl by Sylwia. Pointer

    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.

  7. Clara the doll for sale

    Handcrafted clara the doll for sale.

    Clara by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  8. Noah the doll for sale

    Handcrafted noah the doll for sale.

    Noah by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  9. Black suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted black suspenders for sale.

    Black suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  10. Orange suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted orange suspenders for sale.

    Orange suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  11. Green suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted green suspenders for sale.

    Green suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  12. Felt earrings for sale

    Handcrafted felt earrings for sale.

    Felt earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  13. Round ceramic earrings for sale

    Handcrafted round ceramic earrings for sale.

    Round ceramic earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  14. Oblong ceramic earrings for sale

    Handcrafted oblong ceramic earrings for sale.

    Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  15. 'Coral' necklace for sale

    Handcrafted 'coral' necklace for sale.

    Corals by Sylwia. Pointer

    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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