Saturday, 24 December 2016

Did you come to my holiday party?

If you were at my bloggy holiday party, you probably don't even remember - that's how good it was. But I hope you at least remember what I WORE!! - this divoon vintage, ivory crepe wool gown with a mink collar - a gift from an estate. I think the original owner had it custom-made - it even has pockets. Long black gloves, black tights, and glitter platform booties completed the look.


Of course as Grand Hostess I was worried about carrying the evening off, but within an hour I knew I had nothing to fear: the French-style-loving bloggers had already hopped up onto the bar and begun disrobing and belting out bawdy German songs off key.


The lifestyle/home decor bloggers in attendance kept turning the other music off and on (which really pissed off my mariachi band) for their game of musical chairs/couches/tables while rating my furniture on its design, craftsmanship, durability, and comfort.

Below I am practising my Psycho face for later in the evening.


The food bloggers hung out at the buffet and in the washrooms. They couldn't get over my Ritz cracker and Spam canapes. Like fine wine they would nibble, spit, then quickly swill the dregs of any beverage within reach, yelling, "Oh my god! Oh my god!" I had no idea theses canapes would be so popular - I'm thinking now I should do a food blog.


The fingermouthing trendy set took advantage of the hair-mussing station I had installed with industrial fans and the photo booth, which included a Where's Waldo map on the floor to help prevent gaze fatigue. Below I rehearse my own new fingermouthing pose for the photo booth. Look away if it's too hot. Seriously, soon all +40 women will be doing this - it's a look that says, "Hellz yeah, I'm frickin' hot. Leave me the feck alone. Got any Advil?" The wisdom of aging.

Thankfully, coat check service was not required with the continuing trend of wearing one's winter coat falling off, which was ideal for dusting my floors and mopping up around the buffet.


The vintage and thrift bloggers basically spent the night raiding the closets looking for old stuff. I had to referee a couple of brawls among them, which was the highlight of the party for me, that and joining in a few Marlene Dietrich tunes with the French-style-loving bloggers on the bar. The beauty bloggers were so impressed with our hairstyles after the brawls that they joined in the fun.

In the next photo I am about release a few unruly guests from lockup. Is it coming back to you at all? Hm? Might I suggest a few more canapes to re-volt your memory?


I took most of these photos of my party outfit in the garbage room atelier before the guests started arriving. Because I was using flash photography, the room was pitch black. When I sat on the big styrofoam bag, second photo, I suddenly started to sink as the containers beneath me gave way with an eruption of cracking sounds like a Canadian ice-breaker valiantly cutting a passage across the frozen Arctic. I maintained my composure, however, despite the heels, a general lack of mobility, the gown, not being able to see a thing, and my sinking masthead.

HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A SPECTACULAR HOLIDAY - if this is something you celebrate, of course. XO

I am linking up with Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike on her blog Not Dressed as Lamb.

Monday, 19 December 2016

The line between the real and unreal

Keepin' it real. But when the real is unreal, how can you tell where one stops and other begins?


Not much to say this week. Thought this would be better than nothing.

Edit: I linked up to Patti's Visible Monday/Not Dead Yet Style with this photo from my Instagram.


Saturday, 10 December 2016

The most amazing, stupendous, sponsored post EVER!

Look at those pants. Will you just LOOK at them?!!

When I first saw these pants, I couldn't believe that I might get to wear them for a blog post. Eeee! And then suddenly, they were mine! This is absolutely one of the best offers I have EVER had for a sponsored post. Ultra, ultra high-waisted, six buttons, screaming pink, blue, and aqua plaid wool palazzos. (Edit: These are probably what I would have described as "baggies" back in the day.)


And I can't get over how sophisticated and demure my response to this offer has been, despite my puppy-that-falls-over-and-pees-everywhere excitement. See? I'm calm, totally calm, serene even, freakishly so, acting like I get this kind of thing every frigging day! Case in point: so far I've used maybe 0.13% fewer exclamation points than usual in this post. Now that's control, right? The serenity that comes with success, dare I say.


I'm bummed that I couldn't do an outdoor shoot - not happening in the snow and rain, and there was probably hail too, and lightning, just to piss me off to maximum effect.

This kind of luxury item deserves the best location to do it justice, maybe a fancy hotel lobby or an upscale restaurant, or an art gallery even. But instead I used my black fabric backdrop. (I hope that won't damage my chances for future sponsored posts.) This is probably the least chic location these pants have ever been photographed in, given the shocking price they command in store.

In the photo below the pink is slightly more accurate, at least on this monitor. And I was wearing a black scarf choker too.


So huuuge, huuuuge THANKS to my sponsor. Before I reveal who it is, let me just say that clearly I'm in the Big Leagues now. I was shocked to be offered this deal. Don't worry - I'll still be your friend. And don't be jealous!! I have loved (and occasionally loathed, I admit) this sponsor for years, and their commitment to chocolate and pudding and chips.

MYSELF. Yes.
Yes, I am the sponsor. I am the sponsor of all my posts, except I did one for Karina Dresses and one for Yuzhe Studios. I saw these pants, I liked them, and paid myself to wear them. They are vintage I suspect, and home-made. Dreamy.


When I was finished the pants shoot, I decided to exercise my magic wand, Grushenka, which had been languishing in the cupboard. O made it for when I gave my lecture, "Unlearning how to paint," at the art gallery a few years ago. Such a wonderful gift. This is my impression of Tinker Bell.

So, let this post silliness be a reminder: if you're feeling deflated about not getting lots of sponsored posts, don't be. The stuff we already have in own closets is pretty fecking awesome. We're ALL SCHTARS. Yesh.


I'll be linking something here up to Patti's Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style and Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb. Of course.

I'm so cheeky, heh. Raspberry kisses to you all!!


Tuesday, 6 December 2016

3.2 hot styles you can copy this December

There's nothing like dreary weather to make me feel glum, so imagine my relief when I ran across this uplifting article in my Bloglovin' feed called "5 ways to brighten up a winter wardrobe" by Natasha Alexandrou. The tips were showcased by five stunning young women each wearing one of the following: 

bold scarf
statement outer wear
embellished accessories
bold colours
floral prints

Emboldened by these highly praiseworthy looks, I decided to apply the adage, if wearing one tip is good, all of them at the same time must be waaay better, especially when executed by a woman of my maturity and taste, and came up with the following 3.2 examples of super-powering outfits to whack those winter glumballs outta the park. 
The faux fur stole is a dead giveaway that this is an evening outfit, which must strictly be worn only for evening outings, such as to the opera, fine dining, or looking for golf balls in the dark with a flashlight. I am of course referring to the stole over my shoulders, not the DIY wrap around my head, which is exempt from the daytime/evening wear rules as any right-thinking fashionista knows. 

When O, my partner, saw this outfit he in fact suggested many places I could go that evening, including one with a chauffeur and escorts in uniform. In hindsight I really should have worn bells with this outfit to alert him when I was about to traverse the living room, requiring, as I did, a wide berth for stately passage. He'll be fine again in a few days.


The foundation garments here are an oversized Eileen Fisher top with a Gap T-shirt over it, which I happened to be wearing around the house that day, and this vintage coat. The pants were thrown on in an absolute panic when I realized I had recklessly failed to incorporate the floral print tip.

Oh Claude, you're so amusant! Shall we breakfast at Tiffany?

Only boring people take their daytime wear into nighttime; exciting people, such as moi, take their nighttime wear into daytime. In this case, below, two simple accessories were all it took: sunglasses and a DIY handbag (teacup carrier), which, if you roll your bologna sandwiches into tight little logs, also doubles as a handy lunchbox.  Who would guess that you've been out all night when you look this smashed smashing?

Note the metal clothespin on the red stole tie around my waist. This is every girl's must-have fashion tool for a range of quick fixes; for example, if your stole starts falling down around your eyes, as we know can happen, you can conveniently clip it back into place if you frickin' remember that you have a frickin' clothespin on your stole belt in the first place.

I'm just Stayin' Alive, friends.

And look! Below is another example of how to brighten a humdrum day of potato-picking in a frozen field. (I call my humongous jewels potatoes - don't we all? I shall not engage in a discussion of whether or not my boudoir is a frozen field.) I have simply varied my accessories to create a whole new and enviable look you will be aching to copy this month. I am successfully employing the stupefaction pose here.

More potatoes? Where's the stickin' gravy!!

I switched the white shaggy faux fur vest for a black one, wrapped the stole around my hips instead of my head, balled up one of scarves and tied it onto my head with a new scarf, velvet on one side, sparklies on the other. Voila! The clothespin clip shuts the collar of my coat. Clearly, this is daytime wear. 

EVIDENCE!

And here we have another scarf and different sunglasses. Naturally most of my poses are frisky - you would be too knowing there are tuna fish tight logs with a pickle core in your handbag. Can't wait for lunch! I hope the pickle juice doesn't sog up my cash.

Aaaah. Sigh.

You know what's really funny about this post? I went in thinking, hurry!, let's put on some OUTRAGEOUS clothes!! Don't think - just do. Let's go over the friggin' top! And when I was done I thought, hey, I might just wear this for real, maybe minus a scarf or two. Okay, no, I probably won't wear the potato-picking outfit again. The silhouette with that huge stole around my hips - hahaha! And the hat would definitely fall off. But simply, these clothes made me happy - and warm.

I look quite at home in this outfit below.


If I encountered a woman wearing any of these outfits while I was out on my inspiration walk, would I like her? Hell, yeah! Plus, it's not the clothing itself that's the draw; it's as much or more the chutzpah it takes to be yourself, even when it means standing out of the crowd and risking getting hammered down, especially these days.


And for the record, I do scan those Bloglovin' articles once in a while. Sometimes I roll my eyes so hard I have to give my marbles a good shake for a reset, but I ask you, who doesn't want to learn how to wear a skirt eight ways when it's 5 degrees, right? Hahaha! (This counting thing in general remains a mystery.) And I find many things I like despite the heavy, heavy, HEAVY emphasis on women under 25. For example, in the article I referenced today, here, I would gladly wear that last dress. WOW!

Just because I like to wear what I want when I want doesn't mean I can't appreciate beauty wherever I find it. We all need more beauty in our lives. Definitely.

And that's my report. Oh, I put blue hair gel in my hair that morning too - you can't see it here though. Next time.

Actually, without the hat I might even like the furry hip bumper. Heh.

I'm linking up something here with, you guessed it, Patti at Not Dead Yet Style, Visible Monday, and Catherine, Not Dressed as Lamb, #iwillwearwhatilike.

And don't forget that Anne of SpyGirl is currently exhibiting her portraits of 52 style bloggers in a compilation called "Fashion Rainbow" at TAG Gallery in Santa Monica until Dec. 17. There is an artist panel on Dec. 10, so it's not too late to get in on the action. Anne is also selling items featuring the portraits. Have a look her amazing work here. I so wish I could have attended her show!

ALERT: Society6, which sells Anne's products, has FREE INTERNATIONAL SHIPPING today, Dec 6. 

If you copy any of these outfits, please do let me know. Heh.

PS - I have never set foot on a golf course nor gone searching for golf balls, but I like to see them split open with all those elastics showing inside. Or maybe they are not like that anymore...?


Sunday, 27 November 2016

Slack-jawed in a shaggy coat, and other important things

Wearing this inhuman outfit, I went to the park for photos. There were lots of cats there. And I seem to be walking on water. Handy, because it never stops frickin' raining!! 


It's a magic cat with orange/yellow eyes. I'll call him Pyewacket, after actress Kim Novak's Siamese familiar spirit in the '58 movie Bell, Book and Candle, clip here. Ms. Novak plays a cool Manhattan witch who, sadly, becomes a normal, boring person after falling in love with a spineless man played by James Stewart. Sigh.

I looove this outfit. The jacket and vintage humongoid palazzo pants seem to match, and then I wore ruffles and that shaggy vest, newly sprung from its space bag. And the elastic corset belt of course makes any outfit better. 
Fierce, right? Or maybe I simply ate too much chocolate. 

Below, a different outfit featuring the classic stupefaction pose - you know, where you open your mouth a bit. Who knew that looking slack-jawed would be a thing? Of course this look is not unfamiliar to me; I just rarely do it for a camera. 

And I'm wearing white Manic Panic hair gel and white brows created with MAC chromacake. The lipstick, called Poe by Kat Von D, is almost black, but much of it had come off by the time I got home for photos. I belled the bottoms of these pants too. 


I learned this mouth pose from ingenue bloggers. It is the cousin of the half-mouth-droop, taught to me by Sue of A Colourful Canvas. And let's not forget the just-pulled-my-finger-outta-my-mouth pose. You can see my big fail here, last photo.

Lately I've seen bloggers rubbing or smooshing their moist lips suggestively with an index finger. Usually they have tousled, just-woke-up long hair too. Well, I think it's unfair that young bloggers get to hog all the "in" poses. It's time we short-haired (or otherwise), middle-aged bloggers moved in on these hot, hot, hot poses. 

Note the belled bottoms. The colour on the left is more accurate.

Until such happy day, though, at least I can do the one where you use your index and middle finger to strum your lips and make bub-bub-bub-bub sounds. Sophisticated, I know. Maybe I can make it a thing. Which brings me to the next pose...

It was Black Friday last week. In honour I present: the double-raspberry.


Below is the photo I put on IG. Zip it! Zip it good!


Black Friday - it sounds like a spell. It is a spell. You see a sign in a shop window that says 100% OFF STOREWIDE. You think, WOW, that's a great deal, I'll risk it. You go in. Bam, there's a wall of people windmilling their arms to grab, grab, grab. Hardly unexpected.

But where are the deals? Of course there's fine print: on selected items only.  If you're lucky there's a single cast-off on a rack in the very back for 80% off. Fortunately, I usually prefer these rejects, but it wasn't worth sticking around to find out. I sucked up the crowd buzz and left. 


A better view of those pants. Most of my shaggy apparel is out of storage now. In a pinch, I could hide a whole farmyard of animals in those pantlegs.

That's the end of this week's stroll through what I wore. It was US Thanksgiving, and I hope those of you who celebrate had a good one. It's the time to recount our blessings - there are so many. 

Have a good week everyone. Here's a link to Santana, Black Magic Woman, live in 1971. 

Yes, I think I'll also join Patti at Visible Monday, Not Dead Yet Style, and Catherine, #iwillwearwhatilike, at Not Dressed as Lamb.


Friday, 18 November 2016

Clothes the colour of porridge

Beige pants. They were on the $5 rack at the thrift shop. The first day I glimpsed them, I walked by - not surprising if you know me. I mean, beige, right? Knit, right? Not my thing.

Later that same day I stumbled across a couple of top blogs that were featuring expensive beige camel pants as a seasonal must-have. Uh-oh.

So the next day I went to the shop and had a closer look. They were still there. Missoni, fully lined, finely made, new condition, perfect fit. Sold. $5.


It happened so fast. What was I thinking!? Beige and on trend? It was like watching myself in a movie, screaming: DON'T GO IN THERE!!

The hand forking over the $5 was not my own: it was an imaginary well-manicured and moisturized hand attached to a calm and expensively-scented woman with a Cartier watch, fine pantyhose hosiery and a luxury handbag with a discreet logo, a woman with a quiet, carpeted walk-in closet the size and grandeur of a church, where matching pristine pieces hang on padded hangers.

Clearly I made a mistake. I suddenly started to feel like the next photo. Reminder to self: Never, NEVER go shopping without your morning coffee.


I had considered burying these pants (not à la Stephen King's "Pet Sematary" - who knows what would rise from the ground!) in a ruffled multicoloured lacy blouse and loud coat. Aah, too easy. Too guilt-free.

In the end, I decided to revel in my beigeness. How about a lovely fitted white blouse with extra long sleeves, my D&G pony heels, my so-soft brown leather belt? That would be nice. I even released my beige caramel wool/cashmere coat from its space bag after two years in lock-up.

But the imagined perfection, on this particular day, left me feeling rankled. Restless. Caged. Trapped in that perfect closet.


So like a little truffle pig I rooted out my combat boots and a corset T from Shelley of Forest City Fashionista. And lucky for me, the coat and pants clashed rather well - the coat a greeny beige and the pants a pinky beige. The idea of neutrals in conflict appealed. Then I added three belts and tower hair. My groove had been restored. Kind of. Inside I was wearing polka-dots, almost.

So that's me in beige. I walked with a swagger with my hands jammed in my pockets and wore my squinty Emporio Armani sunglasses, to bring a slightly darker tone to the look. And I clomped - that's what these boots do best.


These pants make me think of that Marianne Faithful song, "The Ballad of Lucy Jordan," here. Lucy is a suburban housewife ready to hurl herself from the rooftop because she realizes that at the age of 37(!) she'll never ride through the streets of Paris in a sports car. Heavy stuff. 

Well, I'm 54 and I still see myself tearing all over the place in a little sports car (well, because I have one, in yellow) - but not in beige clothes. Beige is calm, tidy, so non-freaked out. It's a porridge colour that doesn't suit me. I'd rather wear $20 tattered pants that look like all hell broke loose.


You can see how beige distorts me. Well, technically it's the T-shirt, but you know what I mean.

And that's my report. I got a haircut last night - hurray! A post on that will have to wait. See? It's an exciting life over here.

I guess I'll probably link something up later too. Maybe I'll edit this post too. Who knows?

Edit: I'm linking up to Patti at Not Dead Yet Style for Visible Monday, of course.
And I'm pretty sure I'll link up to Catherine at #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb when the time comes.



Thursday, 10 November 2016

Style doctoring without borders

The very best clothes change me - they move me, literally. They make me hold my hands a certain way, stride a certain way. They affect my carriage and expression and speed. For me, these are the things that propel an outfit from merely great to exceptional.


The movements here are large. They are not something you would do going down the sidewalk. Even so, when I hit the pavement, these bold physical expressions are still there, coiled inside, ready to spring, not necessarily through a kick, but maybe a quick smile or high five. An energy has been created.


It's getting easier to express the particular supremacy of a cut or colour or texture and its effect in my photos. Is it because I am more in tune with these connections or because I am becoming less timid in the use of my camera and locations? Probably both.

I am patient too. I know there can be no exceptional responses without the short-of-exceptional in between for comparison, which can feel interminable, so when I do find that magic combination, well, it's something to relish, something I couldn't fathom giving up.


This week I imagined what it would be like if I woke up one morning and found out freedom of expression had been banned during the night. Specifically, from now on we would only be allowed to wear state-issued khakis and button-downs with plain black cotton shoes. Bobs would be the only sanctioned hairstyle. In other words, the pinnacle of norm core.

The blow would be staggering. But I wondered about those people who have always suppressed their style choices fearing what other people would think. I can't imagine the regret they'd feel staring at, say, a little red dress they'd secreted away in the closet before the clothing police raided their home.


They'd probably be asking themselves - why didn't I wear my dress/platform shoes/palazzo pants when I had the chance!? Why was I worried about a few raised eyebrows?

So I say, PUT ON THAT FECKING RED DRESS. Put it on NOW!! Freedoms are nibbled away bit by bit until, yes, it's possible we could wake up some day to an altered reality. It happens. So right now, this very minute, is as good a time as any to revel in our freedom to wear whatever the feck we want. Abso-fecking-lutely.


I use my individual expression to create antibodies against the pestilence of intolerance. This particular outfit created an especially powerful batch. In fact, I shared it with people I met on the street who were also eager for a big dose.


I bought this coat at My Sister's Closet after it had been rejected by shoppers in a pop-up shop at a cinema before a fashion film I couldn't attend. When I didn't see the coat at the shop the next day, I was sure it had been snapped up, but I had to ask anyway. The volunteer on duty went to check, and when she came back, there it was. Apparently, many people had tried it on and passed. Whew!

These tartan palazzo pants are made from a heavyweight brushed twill and I bought them at Used House of Vintage several years ago. This was my first time wearing this particular combination. Pretty damned strong antibodies if you ask me.

It's been quite a week.


Sunday, 30 October 2016

Snapping back in pearls and bell bottoms

I've noticed as I've gotten older that when I pinch my skin and pull it out, it takes longer to snap back where it belongs. Why do this? Because I've seen other people do this. It's kind of like bothering a sore spot and saying over and over, "Ow, it hurts when I do that." ???

But I've also noticed that this snap-back thing is true about my face as well. When I smile about something during my downtown walks, my face takes longer to settle back into its resting diva state. Heh. I'll go blocks and blocks and totally startle myself when I realize that damned smile is still there!! Let's not talk about how this applies to my scowl face because...

Mel Kobayashi of Bag and a Beret in pearls, enjoying her tea in the garden

...it's been a week of chaos with nature chasers to take the edge off as the result of a computer hard drive meltdown. Some things were backed up - yeah, like my BOWELS! with all this shite to deal with. I know I'll stumble across stuff here and there on USB drives as the days go by ("stuff" of course referring to my data, not bowels. Moving right along). And the tech guy who did last rites backed up a few things for us, essentials. It was like deciding what to pack in a capsule wardrobe for, say, Paris, and being charged by the hour after the trip is cancelled.

The only true and meaningful remedy was nature with pearls, pearls, and more pearls!! And a cute vintage wool crepe shift dress with glitter tights and pointy shoes. See how dainty I am? I've brought my teacup holder with me, the one I DIY-ed from a wooden matryoshka, and that's a family heirloom teacup.

Bag and a Beret enjoying her tea in the garden
See the monster with big eyes waving at me behind the fence?

But that's definitely not tea. Looks like I needed a little Extra Strength nature, some fermented organics with a kick. In fact, the cup was empty - even worse! Picture me wobbling and stumbling on kitten heels, fumbling with loupes and reading glasses, sinking in mulch, and then throwing myself awkwardly across these weather-soaked chairs before the 10-second warning on the camera self-timer went off - all of this while trying to keep my dress down and look aloof. I think I succeeded.

Bag and a Beret enjoying her tea in the garden

I had to face this direction on the chair because all the construction men were on the other side. Of course I lost all my photo editing software and video editing software. Pffft. It was time to upgrade anyway. These photos were done on the basic-est basic software - that's why I added so many effects, to make myself feel better. Look what I can do! Look what I can do! (Ow, it hurts when I do that.)

Bag and a Beret in pearls and pearls and little black dress

These heels were wicked leaf skewers. It was a fashion statement, all those golden maple leaves stuck to my heels. Very patriotic.

And below, more nature shots - my very cool striped vintage bell bottoms with a floral jacket and a Bowling-For-Dollars (name of American bowling game show) blouse. I intentionally pulled things from my closet that I thought would look putrid together. I really needed some fecking CLASH! I failed - it came out looking Gucci. I swear, that company has ruined the art of clash by making anything and everything go together. Puh.

Bag and a Beret in bell bottoms, Gucci impression

During this shoot I thought it would be fun to do some stop motion shots of me throwing a bunch of leaves up in the air. You know: Hahaha!! I LOVE NATURE! Tralala! I set the self-timer and scrambled into position.

What I didn't know was that while the leaves looked dry and lovely on top, when I grabbed a huuge pawful I discovered they were half-rotted and wet on the bottom. And of course when I hear the camera beeping I can't shut off. Up went the rot pile and down it came again all over my head, probably with lots of critters too. None of the photos turned out. How poetic.

After that fiasco I moved locations. Behold!!

Bag and a Beret in bell bottoms, Gucci impression

And then back in the stairwell below. Too much nature! This outfit was a no-brainer. The overalls said Not Plaid so I put on the tartan jacket for a "get it? get it? nudge-nudge" moment. I don't think anyone but me got it though and it left passersby worried about that puzzled, expectant, half-smirk look on my face, which didn't snap back at all! That's a blue silk blouse underneath. Everything is many sizes too large, except the jacket which I down-farked.

Bag and a Beret in upcycled tartan jacket and overalls, plaid/not-plaid

I call this outfit plaid/not-plaid undone, with reference to Canadian rock band The Guess Who and their 1969 hit "Undun." (here) She's come undone. Undone DIY jacket, undone DIY overalls with that gaping bib. At least my combat boots stayed tied, double knotted.

Bag and a Beret in upcycled tartan jacket and overalls, plaid/not-plaid

These photos are the first installment in Project New Leaf. I am venturing boldly where no middle-aged tween has gone before. Heh. A fresh slate is a good thing.

But I have to say that throughout this minor inconvenience my heart went out to a dearly loved member of our blogging community, Jessica Cangiano, author of Chronically Vintage, and her husband. All their worldly possessions, including her priceless collection of vintage clothing, were destroyed in a fire on October 13. Their dog escaped with them but their beloved cat went missing.

A crowdfunding page has been set up HERE to help them get back on their feet. And Jessica's friend Bonita of Lavender & Twill set up a Facebook page HERE for helping in other ways. The fire happened a couple of weeks ago, but the need I'm sure is as strong now as it ever was. Think about it, won't you?

And now one more outfit for the road:

Bag and a Beret in the magic forest

This is my first back-to-nature photo. I'm living proof that when the going gets tough, the tough put on pearls and bell bottoms, grab a camera, shower themselves with decaying plant matter, frolic in mulch, clamber up hills and stairs, and pull out the fine china. I tried wielding a pitchfork and a very heavy watering can in my pearls, but I'll save those photos (on an external drive) for later. Heh.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I met up a while ago with my friend Sandra, who is now active on IG here. You can see her rocking her drop crotch pants on my street style blog here. Mighty fine.

The end. Congratulations - you made it!

I'll be linking something up, of course, with Patti at Not Dead Yet Style, Visible Monday, and Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb, #iwillwearwhatilike.

Have a good week. And remember: two steps forward, one step BACKUP!!



Saturday, 22 October 2016

The shoes that ate Vancouver

You know how I go downtown almost every morning to check out my turf, right? Well the other day, I cut through Nordstrom on my way home and was overcome by a crowd of highly-excited women who appeared at a glance to be dressed in black blazers, black skirts, white blouses, and heels. They were scurrying around like bumper cars in a velvet-roped corral in the shoe section.

I didn't have a photo of bumper cars so this will have to do

Holy cow! Clearly I didn't get the memo and looked down at my bathmat white maxi coat, three-sizes-too-big white chinos, white DIY boob-cooler T-shirt and turtleneck, black Italian ankle boots, tower hair, and Joan Crawford red lips. I thought, hm, this might end badly for me.

What?! No memo?!

Had I missed the "filming in progress" signs and stumbled onto the set of a new David Lynch movie? Was this Purgatory!? To their credit, everyone looked great but in a mass-fabulous way that makes it hard to see the trees for the forest without a little neon pink tulle for focus. Blazered eye correction can do that to a person.

Blazered eye correction

Regaining my composure, I then noticed lines of anxious women in a phalanx along the perimeter of the store, all clutching shopping bags. And wait! They were being fed champagne. Whaaat? Where's my champagne? Quickly I spotted the head security guard looking like a god from central casting. I approached him with my best VIP face and asked, How do I get in?, What's happening?

Seeing red in the Louboutin shoe department

He explained that Christian Louboutin was expected on the premises in about 30 minutes to sign purchases of his footwear, then indicated the table and throne behind him where the maestro would sit. So the price of admission was new red-soled shoes, which clearly the lined-up women had paid, and apparently this was non-negotiable as no amount of seductive Norma Desmond eye bulging on my part would change his mind. I'm losing my touch.

Guess which one is me.

I wanted to tell these women, hey, I'll scribble on your old shoes for free! Maybe it's a good thing I left my folding card table, Sharpie, and lawn chair at home. Well, maybe not for free. I'd be like Lucy from Charlie Brown comics and charge 5 cents.

But really, all this fuss for a signature on a shoe? Isn't that weird? You're just going to put your stinky feet in there and literally drag his name through the mud. But maybe these disciples have shoe shrines in their homes and never wear them or are carried by servants when they go out. Maybe they will try to sell their shoes on eBay. Or maybe they've had the sweat glands in their feet surgically removed. Do they even do that? Could I make my millions with this idea? Would Louboutin invest?

My farked boots - post on them here. Note my signature. Free.

I wondered what would happen if Valentino had an in-store signing of thong underwear. Would women wear them? Can you sell pre-owned undies on eBay? Is there even a Mr. Valentino and does he make thongs?

As for me? I only wear diamonds on the soles of my shoes, baby. I find them in the thrift store. Priceless. Okay, maybe not diamonds, but they are still rocks of a sort. They get stuck in the cracks.

Goners. Days ago both shoes in the right pair cracked. I should have bought some Looboos.

I'll hook something up with Patti and Catherine when they go live later, Visible Monday/Not Dead Yet Style and #iwillwearwhatilike/Not Dressed as Lamb, respectively. (In fact, I linked up an Instagram photo for Catherine instead.)

Oh, I made a video of most of my posted outfits from October '15 to October '16, photos from here, Instagram, and a couple new ones.  I put this on IG too but this version is the original size. Much better.

THE VIDEO


That's all. Have a great week everyone!!!



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