There is something so eternally enduring and endearing to me about the artists, writers, and musicians living during the Beat period in time. I love them. I love their bravery. I feel at home with them, and accepted into their circle. And so I was watching the movie "Howl" and it flooded my senses with everything I remembered about the smoky colors and cagey music, the struggles for artistic understanding, the jazzbop fight for poetic expression . . . just everything, actually. The movie and the court trial set against animations and jazz worked their way into my just go ahead and look the other way and pretend to be normal why do I feel the need to fit in with anything around me soul and HOWL THE DRESS took shape. I knew it had to be only for my beloved daughter who encourages me in everything, walks with me down sharp crooked paths of creativity, and holds the mirror of cracked brilliance up for me to peer into when I would just as soon give up entirely. Yeah. You can say she is my muse. Hand-lettered on pewter dupioni from an enthusiastic SILK BARON down south, every single word from Ginsberg is here. The footnote to HOWL is on the somewhat offbeat rose on the back. Only for my daughter's birthday. Only for Ginsberg. Only for HOWL. Oh and a big P.S. The only thing for it was to create the world's most glorious GREEN silk petticoat with miles of ruffles and black tulle to go underneath in order to effect the best party profile. HAPPY BIRTHDAY INGRID!!