Michal enjoys making films for women... Is he some kind of...you know... ?
Posted:
I'm not crazy. I don't make films that are just for women. Like all my art, my movies represent the idea that women should be accepted as equal partners in society worthy of equal respect and consideration. For that to happen, we need to learn how to listen.
Through discipline, I've learned to start listening to women. I'd like to give others a chance to gain from that discipline too.
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.
Help Treat Antisocial Personality Disorder With Art
Posted:
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 the second to last weekend of June, 2011, I had joined my fellow naturists at a gathering of the Naturist Society in rural Pennsylvania. The next day I left on a flight for Europe. By the end of the week I had unexpectedly met another naturist, a woman, who was destined to accompany me on a tour of Europe's great naturist resorts.
As an artist inspired by a young woman's struggle with self-esteem and bulimia, body acceptance had always featured prominently in my aesthetic. Having recently discovered naturism and its mantra of body acceptance in the United States, I was eager to explore the style and philosophy of naturist clubs and the beauty of naturist campsites in Europe. By a trick of fate, I found myself first in Bielsko-Biała, Poland. Margo's home.
Though I was born in Europe, I had been brought up from a young age in America, living in states as diverse as Nebraska, Ohio and Connecticut. I was taught American values and saw reality from an American perspective. She was born and raised in a village in Poland. She went to work in the nearest town. The nearest city seemed like the center of the world. The American perspective was not something she was ever planning to see.
6,000 miles. One car. One tent. We started learning how to listen. We started learning how to open up. We started cooperating. Even when we were angry, even when it was so difficult that it didn't seem like it would turn out well, we stuck it out. We completed the trip and we came back happy. We had beaten the devil on the road. Back home more devils were waiting to abuse us. More anger. More fear. More sadness. This time we were prepared. This time we had each other and we could harken back to the joy and the trust and the suprise that 6,000 miles had created. We could remember what it was like to live in one tent.
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: Gay Fiction
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 Gay Fiction
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "gay fiction."
Video of me pronouncing "gay fiction."
Definition of Gay Fiction
Gay Fiction is either fiction about a person or people of a certain gender whose sex drive is directed toward people of the same gender, or it's fiction that supports the perceived political aims of the people who publicly identify or associate with the aforementioned class of people. Unfortunately it's usually the latter.
References for gay fiction
I have yet to find good references for Gay Fiction
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 #2523
delta found me on the bridge. he says hes not here officially. hes just a curious kind of guy. invited me for a drink. i said next time.
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.
I well remember how your father's mother struggled. Once in a while, her attacks were long and devastating, terrifying everybody else gathered around. Her skin would turn blue: she would look like a heavenly creature in hell, surrounded by devils, gasping for God's great air as if we lost mortals were choking her with our own breaths, bellowing out carbon oxides, unclean combinations of two otherwise beneficial elements: diamond air, which would form to cut through our hearts whenever we started feverishly running around to help her. We were dragons breathing smoke, as far as she was concerned. Give me air - she must have thought - not smoke! We would crowd around her unnecessarily; your father would look into her eyes, caress her face - but she wouldn't stop gasping. More than one innocent bystander must have jumped, as I often did, at the prospect of gallantly locking lips to give her air, only to sit back in self-conscious superfluity, cringing at the thought of one's potential motive.
"She's got the blues," your father would have to say, and it was true: every time she began to feel better, there was less and less hope that it would last; sooner or later, she would have to be attacked by status asthmaticus; there was no escaping its mercilessly tightening grasp, no way of preventing her bronchial tubes with their mucus-forming glands from swelling - what specific allergen could possibly have caused her pain? - when a breeze, a bad smell, or a change in temperature would send her coughing, and make her throat secrete its mucinous poisons, drowning her in her own mucus and consigning her to long hours of hacking, wheezing, and gasping for air - long, tiresome hours, which inevitably sent your grandmother back to bed for months - how depressing it was.
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.
And so, with my hand on his, I laughed. Letting go of his hand, I circled past his still rigid body, noticing the curls of a smile now forming as I, still laughing, began my way down the hall. Within a few steps his laugh was stronger than mine, and I half-turned to see his glowing face and to say, "Sorry, I mistook you for someone else," which made us both redouble our laughing effort. Turning again, I felt him stay by the corner for a while, and I was half-way down the hall before I had the courage to turn around, see him gone, and retrace my steps back to Luke's room. I felt very good.
But I confess: it was very nice to see him. And Luke. And of course, Macy. It's amazing how some people, after so many years, can still make one's flesh jump. Even after one has lost all hope of...the impossible. But like I said, value is so arbitrary. Take wine, for example. I once thought that wine connoisseurs were gods. Possessed of some unearthly power, their discriminating taste born of years of good breeding at expensive restaurants, I thought their abilities beyond the reach of anybody who had not memorized a proper wine list by puberty, or had not spent their adolescence hopping through the French countryside or crawling through the caverns of Eger.
– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 1, Section 1, Introduction, Paragraph 1, Clauses 4-13
Oh, but who am I kidding? It's obvious that there are still so many feelings left - contradictory and unpredictable. And I'm supposed to be telling you what happened at Nike's party. That is the reason for my writing this letter. And I am aware, as my shuddering body reminds me, that in order for you to understand what happened, I must relate to you what has been happening, or rather what has not been happening between myself and Macy, a relationship which must seem entirely innocent to you, as I have ever so rarely discussed it. And I do apologize profusely for that, but there was never a moment when I was not so entirely confused that I could possibly broach the subject with any hope of clarity. Ah, but I'm already making excuses.
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.
They watched the two men put more life jackets into the kayak.
"Wait a minute," said Patsy. "That's a whole lot of life jackets."
"When it comes to gay sex," said Sergeant Cline, "you can never be too safe."
"Don't you get it," said Juanita. "They're smuggling the drugs in the life jackets."
"'Cause I'm about to get my pants wet," said Patsy. "Don't worry, Sergeant Kline. This time, it's got nothin' to do with your mother."
The rangers followed the man in the hot pants to a parking lot where he met a man with a beard next to a car with a tandem kayak. "Don't tell me he came here to go kayaking," said Patsy.
"I heard from somebody who talked to somebody who knew somebody who used to work here that most of their patrons aren't gay. What do you think of that?"
"I think it's stupid. Why would it be true?"
"Maybe homosexuals think transvestites are queer or something."
"If you want one of these people, why wouldn't you be gay for wanting them?"
"The roof," cried the officer. Shephard fired as close as he could to the man. Pepsi got up off the ground. She was in pain. Her leg hurt. She limped towards the gates. Shephard fired again. He watched Pepsi disappear into the other yard. He fired one last time. He crawled backwards. He jumped to the ground. He ran around to the ruins. In a low growl, he said "Ey-hey, an-may. Air-way are oo-yay?" There was no answer. He said a bit louder, "I ed-say, air-way are oo-yay?" Nothing. He shouted, "Ey, Orge-gay. Say something."
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.
KOKOMO: It is. I keep telling you that.
FLETCHER: Maybe for Catholics: you have thousands of years of ritual to fall back on: Popes and bishops to decide for you.
KOKOMO: That's not fair.
FLETCHER: I'm supposed to be my own priest.
KOKOMO: Maybe you should start praying.
FLETCHER: For what? For the will to become Catholic?
KOKOMO: You know what I am. You've taken the time to study what my faith requires. I'm overjoyed by that. I realize it angers you sometimes. You need to remember it isn't about priests or prayer or sacraments or the Bible or saints or miracles or doctrine or creed. It's not even about salvation. It's about sacrifice. If you, Fletcher Christian, are not willing to place yourself into the hands of God - to submit yourself to His Divine Mercy - then nothing else matters and there will never be any happiness between us.
FLETCHER: I see that.
KOKOMO: You don't see it.
FLETCHER: How can you tell?
– ACT I, lines 1342-1351
ALICE: How do you manage?
KOKOMO: With gourmet coffee, with freshly baked strudel, and with sweets: when they put you in charge of the kitchen, the world is yours.
ALICE: Don't they look at the bill?
KOKOMO: Deciphering a budget one no longer handles is more difficult than knowing the composition of a meal one has never cooked. If you can make trevally taste like wahoo, you can make dimes turn into dollars.
ALICE: Are you saying we had trevally for lunch?
KOKOMO: Everybody thought it was wahoo.
ALICE: I wish I could cook meals. I'm not very domestic.
KOKOMO: I had to learn the hard way. My mother was sick for a long time.
ALICE: I'm sorry to hear that.
KOKOMO: She's better now.
– ACT I, lines 820-829
MS. JACKSON: I will go insane if I don't find out.
GREY GOOSE: It's all very simple. These two have been running a racket: a confidence game. Kokomo plays the prostitute, whose story is so ridiculous it must be true. Finding out for oneself is the challenge. If she's the best lay in the South Pacific, one should know the difference.
FLETCHER: Satisfaction guaranteed.
GREY GOOSE: Cash comes rolling in.
MS. JACKSON: I don't understand. What happens when-
FLETCHER: By the time they get to bed, they think she's a charity case.
GREY GOOSE: She vomits on them and that's it.
MS. JACKSON: Vomits?
FLETCHER: It turns me off.
MS. JACKSON: How?
– ACT II, lines 431-440
FLETCHER: If he came to you in penitence, would you accept him?
MS. JACKSON: That's difficult for me to say.
FLETCHER: It's not. Tell us. If he were sorry, would you forgive him?
MS. JACKSON: If he came to me repentant of his sins - I mean all of them - I would forgive him. I would consider allowing him to return to this house. Do you think I don't want him? I want him more than you could ever know. I want him in a way that, unfortunately, I have never had him. I won't settle for less than I deserve. That's all I'm going to say on the subject. It upsets me. Your father has behaved strangely in the past; as of late, his actions have been frightening me. Maybe it is the climate around here - I'm not going to take any chances.
(to KOKOMO) I want you to watch out for him, in case he should try to violate you.
FLETCHER: That is unwarranted.
MS. JACKSON: It may have taken a hundred and fifty years for another murder to occur, but we are not immune to rape. We need only bear witness to what took place on Pitcairn in recent times. Six men were found guilty of sexual offenses. That's almost the entire adult male population over there. I'm not going to let that happen around here - not while I'm alive. Do you understand? As soon as you're done with this mess, Kokomo, I would like these towels to go to the laundry. We have all of Lesbian's things to wash.
KOKOMO: I have a question, ma'am.
MS. JACKSON: Yes?
KOKOMO: Will our guest from New Zealand be staying with us for considerably longer than planned? If that's the case, I'm going to have to make a new schedule.
– ACT I, lines 1320-1329
FLETCHER: Oh, Money! God of first fruits! Bringer of knowledge! Harvester of truth! Where would Man be without thy cold kindness? Give me your hand. Let the lorikeets squeak out the rhythm of our steps. We'll dance a polonaise. I'll sashay you around the South Pacific. Who could prove to be a better partner? No man could be as faithful; no woman either. Even if she bleed by the moon, her temper is not as mild. Obedience notwithstanding, her character can seem, at times, positively restive. Feistiness is a woman's most vicious virtue. It can burn a man's pride even while it warms his heart. In truth, a man who marries money is liable to finding a bed so stiff the kingfisher would laugh. Without it, one would cry at night like the ghost bird. Thanks to money, nature is Man's slave. Weathering the vicissitudes of fortune, the wealthy man works the ground for as long as the ground does not work him. When that day comes, let's hope that our money has not defrauded us of our nature.
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 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.
One day Orbitz finally emerged from his hotel room. He was carrying what looked like a book. He went into the shop. "It's you again," said the shopkeeper. "What do you want?" Orbitz said nothing. He dropped the book on the counter and left. One half of the surveillance team followed him all the way to the space port. The other half decided to find out what was going on. They raided the shop. They found nothing. The book Orbitz had been carrying was an antique. It was stamped with the name of the hotel. When one of the agents went to the hotel to ask about it the clerk behind the desk wanted it back. He said every room was supposed to have one. It was tradition. He had no idea why. He said the owner would get mad if one of them disappeared. The owner was questioned about the book. He said the same thing. It was tradition. Every room had a book. Every book was the same. He didn't know why. He didn't care to know. The Amazon cared. According to his sources there was a chance the book had a connection to the Wiki-en Society. He ordered the hotel closed. He arrested the owner and the entire staff. They proved themselves innocent quickly. The Astrazeneca found no deception in them. The shopkeeper was different. He was held long after the others had been released. He wasn't lying about Orbitz. He had never seen the man before in his life. He was lying about the way he did business. He claimed he was an honest businessman. It was a lie. He claimed he knew a good bargain when he saw one. Another lie. The Amazon wondered what was happening. Orbitz had gone from the space port to a low orbit cruise ship. Aboard the same ship was Sara Lee. The scientist who had confounded the Astrazeneca in the first place. He assigned a surveillance team to watch her. She walked around and gazed at the blue planet. She didn't see Orbitz at all.
At some tender age Steve O had happened upon a backstage drama on TV. This was followed by a backstage musical. Then a backstage comedy. In each instance there was a character of an actor played by an attractive actor who despite having duties ostensibly onstage was preoccupied to the almost complete exclusion of everything else with an actress played by an attractive actress. This was Steve O's cue.
To ensure the veracity of Captain Orbitz's responses the Amazon enlisted the telepathic services of five of the most well-respected Astrazeneca in the Orion Arm. They did not come cheap. Shielded behind glass in five separate compartments they listened intently to Orbitz's thoughts. When Orbitz was asked directly if he was an exian, he said no. The megacepahlics buried their fingers into their huge pulsing temples. They concentrated and said almost in unison, "This is truth."
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.
It's natural to hide dirty things. They're embarrassing. But we need to keep in mind that when we hide things that are difficult, we make them seem dirty when they're really something else entirely. And when we keep things that are easy in plain sight, we make them seem clean when they really aren't. That is dangerous.
Help maintain the "Gay Fiction" page...
If you love women and art...
Michal's exporting Polish art...is he wacky?
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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