Velvet

One day in 1968 when Juan and Abel Velazquez were 15 years old, their father sat them down and placed before them canvases of black velvet. Jose Velazquez had been a boxer in Mexico City. Later, he taught himself cartooning and, from there, to paint on velvet, which is how he was supporting his family. "Time for playing is over," he told them. "It's time to make money." He took up a brush, dabbed it in pink paint and handed down to his sons the one craft he knew. Starting with a simple classic of Tijuana velvet, he taught them to paint the Pink Panther.

A year ago, when Velvet and Ted Kitzmiller were still nursing injured squirrels, owls and other wild critters in the family room of their Pasadena home, they dreamed of one day caring for their furry friends in a top-notch veterinary clinic. Yesterday, the couple showed off such a facility to volunteers and supporters, including Anne Arundel County Executive Janet S. Owens. She had helped Noah's Ark Wildlife Center - the Kitzmillers' family room project - find expansive new digs on county-owned land on the Broadneck peninsula.

When it comes to fall dressing, the coat has long been fashion's neglected child. It's the afterthought that's casually tossed on after the outfit, shoes and purse have been carefully selected. It's the item of clothing women can't wait to doff the moment they arrive at a party. It's most valued for warmth, protection and (oh-so-tiresome) practicality. Not this fall. Call it the Year of the Coat. Because on the racks this season is a glorious array of outerwear made of paisley-printed velvet, patchwork denim and soft, distressed leathers in a dozen scrumptious browns.

With an audience of squirrels, ducks, birds and opossums in more than a dozen cages behind them, Ted and Velvet Kitzmiller signed a property lease with Anne Arundel County yesterday that guarantees the short-term survival of Noah's Ark, their center that assists wildlife in trouble. At a ceremony celebrating the center's future, the Kitzmillers sat at a table in their back yard surrounded not only by the animals they're nursing, but by the people helping to save the center. Attending the lease-signing were County Executive Janet S. Owens, County Council Chairwoman Shirley Murphy, and Dennis M. Callahan, the county recreation and parks director.

Editor's note: One girl shows her classmates the value of accepting someone who does things differently from them. On the first day of school, Velvet's classmates brought their teacher cinnamon tea, lace handkerchiefs and heart-shaped boxes of potpourri. Velvet handed her teacher an egg carton filled with seven rocks, her favorite red shoelaces and half a sparrow's egg. Velvet was odd. At lunchtime, Velvet not only carried a used brown paper bag, but inside of it were things like carrots and a butter sandwich.

In Ted and Velvet Kitzmiller's rented home in Pasadena, a 4-week-old squirrel is recovering after a fall from its nest. During multiple daily feedings, it eagerly grasps a bottle the size of a syringe with its tiny claws. The Kitzmillers say the squirrel needs to stay at least six more weeks to recover, but the couple - who run Noah's Ark Wildlife Center Inc. and care for scores of creatures there - don't have that much time. Their landlord wants her family to live in the house and has notified them that they need to move out by July 1. "This was not expected," said Velvet Kitzmiller, 37. "You just can't take 200 animals and move them."

On South Stricker Street, where outsiders are unwelcome unless they have drugs or money to share, Tony Shore has neither. He pulls up in his teal Ford Escort and, like a traveling street vendor, pulls a few unframed paintings from the trunk and props them against the car. His casually hip clothes and Yale sticker in the car window go little noticed by the people who spend every sweltering afternoon on these streets like it's their living room. They have known him all 28 years of his life, since before his clothes were cool, before he could hold a paint brush.

Realism in modern art was kicked off more than a century ago when Charles Baudelaire called for pictures that depicted "the heroism of modern life." One wonders what the poet would have made of the paintings of Tony Shore, whose acrylic-on-black-velvet images of family and friends in inner-city Baltimore are on display at Gomez Gallery through Aug. 27. Shore is a storyteller and heir to a long tradition of naturalistic painting about the lives of ordinary...

Shouldering the burden of styleCamisole top. Check.Taffeta ball skirt. Check.Dainty crystal necklace. Check.Think you're done compiling your holiday outfit? Well, think again.Without a little something extra skimming your shoulders this month, you'll look about as fashionable as Mrs. Claus. Here are a couple of wraps to keep in mind.* The shrug: Imagine a cardigan sweater with no front or very little back, just arms. Look for rich velvets or soft, fluffy mohair.* The shawl: Little more than an oversized scarf, wraps made of super-soft pashmina or velvet with contrasting satin, like this black velvet and champagne satin wrap by Echo ($98)

Velvet Elvis lives a lowdown life, stuck in cheesy motel rooms, smoky barrooms, swap-meet sales. Velvet Jesus gets hawked by the highway, sold from the backs of pickups with Velvet Sinatra and Velvet John Wayne.For sheer kitsch value, black velvet paintings have always had fans. But respect for the highbrow variety -- yes, there is such a thing -- has been hard to come by until recently.But in places such as chic, white-walled Huntington Beach Arts Center in Southern California, an art form generally scorned and reviled in museum circles is now being celebrated.