And here I am in the master bathroom. Obviously, I’ve made myself very comfortable.

I had such an amazing day. It was incredible to see the girls faces transform as they learned how to play a few notes on the guitar and bass. It reaffirmed my belief that music is a powerful confidence-booster and something I wish everyone had access to. I made a special connection with a girl named Maria and I know that she’s going to take her guitar home and really dig in. I have a feeling it’s going to be life-changing for her. Thank you so much to Fender, Girl Rock Nation, L.A Rock Camp for Girls and everyone who put together such an incredible day for these very special girls. It was honor to be there!

Here’s the recap from the Girl Rock Nation website!

Page 2

On playing and singing…

On what is going through your head when you’re playing with your eyes closed…

Please check out Fender’s Girl Rock Nation to get inspired to rock!

I’ve been loving CMT’s “Day Jobs” show. It’s so much fun to see country stars grinding out tasks they once tackled in another life and witnessing the hilarity that ensues. Over the weekend, we played in Raleigh, NC and I ran into a blast from the past, Scully, who worked on the Hootie and The Blowfish tour I nannied on in 1996. It got me thinking back on my own history of employment and I thought I’d write an homage to those brave souls who’ve employed me as I started out.

I’ll tell you straight up, I haven’t held many jobs. Like, only two real ones other than playing music. I also realized I could never be on a show like “Day Jobs” because it would just be 5 hours of video of me sitting in a law office library filing paperwork and taking regular “mental health breaks” to play internet solitaire. Doesn’t make for great TV. But it did get me through those first couple years post-college of needing part time, flexible employment during the day so that I could play gigs at night and get started on this whole wacky music thing.

Resume’ in the year 2000 – Babysitting and Mowing Lawns

It took the entire first semester before my college roommate figured out that I had actually never had a “real” job. The problem was, in high school I was making money hand-over-fist babysitting and eventually playing gigs with my dad around town. My earliest streams of income were tied to the rock and roll life style and I was living the dream. I was a nanny for the daughter of two of my favorite musicians, Peter Holsapple and Susan Cowsill, and my nannying adventures took me everywhere from a hippy commune in Austin where I slept in a cabin normally occupied by a man named Thor (real name) while they played South By South West, all the way to sold-out arenas where they opened for Hootie and the Blowfish. I made enough cash nannying on that Hootie tour to hit my savings mark for my first car.

Here I am in 1995 with my charge Miranda on our way to SXSW. She’ll graduate HIGH SCHOOL this month. Time freakin’ flies people.

Then came the gigs with my dad. Our band was called The Cranston Clements Healing Machine. For much of my senior year, we had a regular Wednesday night set at the Howlin’ Wolf which started at 10pm. This meant that every Thursday I was late to Chemistry class, usually not having done much homework either. (I actually had to clean the chemistry lab to graduate high school because my grades were so pitiful that this was the only way to rack up some much needed extra credit. Thank you for throwing me a bone Mrs. Sonier!)

Me and dad here with The Machine. I usually wore some hot pink wig, or the skirt from my belly dancing costume to these gigs. Here I am in said wig along with stockings that make my legs look like they have fish scales. I was loving life and paying for my own gas!

Then came college and the realization that the rock star life would have to be put on hold. Mom got tired of me hitting her up for cash and when my roommate Ashley (who had been managing Subway chains since she was like 15) found out that I had never held down a real job, she pushed me out the dorm room, down the street to the nearest boutique (which sold Tibetan imports) and filled out the application for me. Resume’: babysitting, gigs in local clubs, assorted lawn care maintenance experience.

Much to my disbelief, the kind gentleman at the Tibetan imports store decided to take a chance on me. It was the first job I’d ever applied for and the first job I ever landed. And it was awesome. During the summers I would work 10+ hour days, along side my best friend Laura Distasi whom I was able to put in a good word for after a year of employment. We sold jewelry, clothing, tapestries and incense, and for 3 years I reeked of Nag Champa and LOVED it.

This doesn’t even look like me, but it’s a great shot of this slice of my life. Working hard or hardly working? You be the judge.

Our boss would take off for several months at a time to go on buying trips in India and Nepal and me and Laura would have the run of the place. It was awesome. One day I was sitting behind the counter practicing my bass (it was a very lax job) and Ringo Starr walked in. He was with his band and they started talking to each other about how their bass player had nearly missed the gig last night. I blurted out “If you’re looking for a bass player, I’m your man!” There was an awkward silence until Ringo started chuckling and said “I’ll bet my bass player would be pretty upset about that!” and then everyone started laughing nervously and Ringo bought a ring and when he left I bought 2 of the same one he’d picked out to give to my mom and her college roommate PLUS I got the whole thing on the surveillance camera which the owner let me take to New Orleans to show my dad. Awesome!

I’d probably just have worked at that boutique for the rest of my life if the owner hadn’t decided that his kids were starting to get pretty fat here in America and decided to move the family back to Nepal. At that point, I had graduated from Berklee and got the call from Theresa Andersson to come tour with her back home in New Orleans. In between gigs with her, I worked at my stepdad’s law office, doing my filing and playing my solitaire. I’ve got nothing but gratitude for both of those jobs and especially for the fact that I’ve gotten to try my hand at making a living playing music for so long now.

What wacky jobs did you hold down before your current career path? Please share!

(Uncle Dave, Grandma Clements, my dad Cranston, late 1960’s)

Let’s talk about Grandma Clements.

Known amongst her children as “Der Maw,” Nelda Clements was a “military brat” of Scottish descent who, as a young woman living on base in Hawaii, survived the attack on Pearl Harbor, met my granddad, and settled down in New Orleans to a life of subversive humor, Dixie beer, anywhere between 5 and 25 cats, and a staunch love of collecting.

Der Maw was the original pack rat and stuffed her house to the gills with treasures she collected from local yard sales and thrift stores. She gave up driving a car shortly after the kids were born and became somewhat of a famous character around town as she would ride the street car to yard sales, always wearing some fantastic get-up that would fit in at any Mardi Gras parade. (Or any normal day in New Orleans.)

(Grandma in one of her favorite outfits. The skirt features an array of owls, which she loved to collect.)

Grandma also loved to create new things out of old junk. She saved hundreds of her Dixie Beer bottle caps to create a stunning wide-brimmed hat dripping with bottle caps for one year’s Mardi Gras costume, which she entitled “Dixie Dawn.” And yes, grandma continued to dress up for and attend Mardi Gras well into her seventies.

Grandma would always pick up treasures for me at yard sales. As I grew older, she showered me with her vintage clothing finds and costume jewelry, much of which I still have today. She was the original spark that instilled my love of items that have been snagged from another time and place and brought back to life with a little t.l.c.

And then there’s my mom…

I am fascinated by my mom. Her parents were renowned anthropologists and my mother grew up traveling the globe, living amongst numerous cultures while my grandparents studied them. Such traveling meant that her education was scattered across the world as well, and due to skipping a grade she ended up a freshman at Harvard at age 16, thrust into the wild, beautiful world of the late 60s.

She was absorbed in music and fashion and spent time studying the latter in Paris, France. As a child, I constantly turned the pages of her college-era photo album, fascinated by the photographs of the Paris beatniks and my mother’s own photos of her forays into the modeling world.

(Gorgeous shot of mom, modeling in Cambridge, MA, 1969)

Thankfully, mom held onto her favorite articles of clothing and kept them in a hallway closet where they still remain. Orange, glittery polyester pants and tops, silky, flowing purple bell bottoms, and a blue and green striped nightgown that could be worn as a mini dress were some of my favorites. As a teen, I would borrow these vintage clothes for school and my first gigs and have always been influenced by her elegant and eclectic style.

I only hope to come close to my lineage’s knack for fashion in my hunting for quirky, outrageous, and beautiful finds. I owe them a debt of gratitude for holding on to special pieces, thinking that there might someday be someone who would appreciate them as much as they did, and for deciding that that “someone” was me.

- Annie

Stage Shot:

Here’s some other awesome things that happened in Norway.

I’ve written in blogs of yore about my friend Jeff Cohen (Songwriter on Sugarland faves “April Showers” and “Take Me As I Am”) who knows everyone in the world, so when he suggested I have dinner with a buddy of his in Norway, I knew enough to go ahead and google the person in advance. Side note: Last time I had dinner with a “friend of Jeff’s” she turned out to be the star of One Tree Hill and I, having no idea who she was, at one point asked her if she was a chef. Lordy.

Anyway, he might as well have sent Brittany Spears to pick us up at the hotel and give us a tour of Oslo. His buddy turned out to be Christian Ingebrigtsen, one of Norway’s premier pop stars and member of the massive European boy band A1. Christian and his cousin Edward took us to an incredible dinner in a lodge at the foot of the famed ski jump Holmenkollbakken overlooking the city. It was an incredible introduction to the sparkling, wintry charm of Oslo.

This is the ski jump. Yeah. Not gonna try that.

Plus I had a dessert called “Arctic Cloud Berries with Krum Kake” which was like raspberry whip cream on an ice cream cone. Yum.

The only bummer was that the dinner special that night was reindeer. Yep. Filet of reindeer. Don’t worry, I didn’t eat it. Not an optimal dish for making Christmas spirits bright. But it was a tremendous evening that I’ll never forget and I’m forever grateful for such a warm welcome on the other side of the earth.

Thank you Christian!

Consequently, on the drive back to the hotel I learned that Christian’s cousin was a silver medalist ski jumper. No one briefs me on anything.

Other things you should know about Olso:

It’s very expensive. Like, a cup of coffee is about $8 American. A specialty drink like a latte will run you about $14. Thad and I had two slices of pizza and a salad at the mall and it cost almost $50 American. It would be pretty hilarious if Sbarro’s tried to charge $50 for a couple of calzones.

They also have stores with interesting “American” names. So instead of a store called, say, “Bjorkyjorgenssen,” (I just made that up and thought it looked Norwegian) they have names like “Feel The Fear and Do It Anyway.” I’m not sure what the implication is with a name like that. Like, take a fashion risk? Or, be aware that this furry vest makes you look like the Abominable Snowman and wear it anyway? Who knows.

Here’s a picture of me outside of Feel The Fear and Do It Anyway.

That’s right folks. I’m pleased to present the official Annie Clements patch. But this isn’t just any patch. It’s a badge of honor. And just like any badge of merit, you can earn one for yourself by completing a few simple tasks. I like to call them “The Magnificent Seven.”

1. Participate in breaking the Guiness Book of World Records record for most people simultaneously dancing the Thriller Dance.

2. Be photographed inside a gigantic inflatable colon

3. Accidentally put your wig on backwards in the dark right before the encore

4. Perform at a Mardi Gras ball where everyone is dressed up like Elvis

5. Decorate the inside of a tour bus for a combination Christmas and birthday party called “Birthmas Bus”

6. Be interviewed by Ronald McDonald for Canadian Television

7. Party on a house-boat with Mr. Bellding

That’s it! Simple enough. Look. I was never officially a girl scout, but I did spend some time in the preliminaries as a Brownie Scout.

Here’s proof:

So I know what it takes to earn badges. It takes guts. It takes breaking and entering. It takes total abject humiliation. And once you complete these seven tasks I’ll be pleased to send you your Annie Clements Badge free of charge. Because you’ve earned it.

But just like anything else in life, if you can’t legitimate earn your stripes, you can buy your way into this exclusive club as I’m offering these patches for sale for the low low price of only 6 bucks a piece!!!

Anyway.

I am constantly ferreting out items from my wardrobe, which, while still lovely and functional, no longer work for me. Clothes from shows-gone-by, items that I bought on impulse but have never worn, jewelry from back in the day, things of that nature. And they all seem to have a good story to go with them. Or at least, an unfortunate photo on facebook that I had to untag.

Exhibit A:

Yep.

This skirt is up for grabs.

Does $15 sound good?

Story behind this garment:

I’m a big fan of personal catch-phrases and have a fair few that I employ on the regular. Ooh, that’s a good one right there! “On the regular.” I’m going to start using that one.

Anyway.

One of my on-the-regular catch-phrases is “Give me a break!” said in a loud, obnoxious voice while making the face seen here in the above photo. This picture was taken during “Stay” at a hot, mid-afternoon outdoor show. It was time for a break. So I gave myself one.

And now you too can take a break in this fine black and grey mini with horizontal button and chain details, size: wouldn’t-you-like-to-know. The first person to email me (clementineindustries@gmail.com) can strut their stuff in this cotton/polyester blend masterpiece!

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - -

So those are the parameters of what I’m hoping will be an on-going blog series where I can tell bits of my story through the garments that carried me there, and pass along those articles to people who can use them in their own story. 10% of the proceeds from each sale will go to my favorite charity – The New Orleans Musicians Clinic. This is the clinic that treats my father and a host of New Orleans’ most valuable musical treasures. I think this will be fun!

-Annie