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Sunday 18 August 2013

Yellow Skirt Freak Show Update!! and more...

From turquoise seas to...
the manure pit?
Like royalty, the travelling yellow skirt freak show does 
not discriminate in her mission of goodwill.

See Tamera
in her glamorous yellow skirt stylings.
Her goddess countenance eclipses even
the unspeakable beauty of the barnyard with its
heavy equipment and cows and petrified dung(!?).
Moo to be-YOO-tiful!

Go! GO NOW!!

Tamera also includes some wonderful photos of her addition to the FYS and those of previous skirters. Thanks, Tamera!

And this is for Patti and the gang over at Visible Monday.

If ya know what's good for ya, youse guys'll hightail it outta my hood. I'm packin' a heater in my bag (flat shoes as backup), and believe you me, youse don't wanna make me use it. Now, bring me my tea and make it snappy, herbal, straight up. And no funny stuff.

Lovely gowns and sequins all week and what finally compelled me to pick up my camera? Pants - go figure. This outfit: thrifted low-rise tuxedo pants, thrifted tuxedo blouse, thrifted fur felt hat, borrowed zipper tie, and pointy high-heels, retail. (The "dental dilemma" is the use of x-rays as a routine diagnostic method - BAD. The article cautions readers to make sure their dentists are only using "F" high-speed x-ray film.)

Incredibly talented artist Anne at SpyGirl has done another amazing sketch of me in her "Fruit Salad" 52-Pick-Me-Up theme outfit of my previous post - I can't believe it! I was also style-eyed on the street that day and the photographer posted me at Flairspotting (edit: the link doesn't work any more) after all. I wondered if he would... Clearly, Anne knows what's good for ya.

Check out how accurate she got the patterning on my jumpsuit. WOW! Thanks, Anne. 

I'm on a digital break so that's why I haven't been around much. But I'm still here, still cheering your ultra-fabulosity!!

Wednesday 7 August 2013

Let's meditate, shall we?

(warning: exceptional Language in this post)
After I do a questionable post, I like to do a cleansing post like this - spiritual, uplifting, chaste, pure. Won't you ohm with me? 

Just close your eyes and breathe in and out, concentrate on nature's verdant and really growing splendour - what the fuck, was that a fucking spider?!! - and think fluffy pastel-pink happy thoughts about - kee-ryste, am I sitting on a fucking bug?!! - that glittering rainbow magic of a bountiful She-universe sprinkling Love Pellets over - fucking no way if that's gum on my white tunic - our parched and gagging lives. 

Very good. And now, some uplifting meditation, eyes still closed - no cheaties (giggles) - while tenderly walking with antelope-footed grace in elegant daintily-studded platform shoes - goddamn side of my shoe is chafing my foot. Ahhhh, exhale. That was special, wasn't it? - where's the fucking spider!? There's nothing like pure snowy-whiteouts of the mind and surrender to vegetation, that which is still growing and that which is crumpled under foot, as succour for a wilty life-wand - WTF? Now open your eyes slowly with anticipation - goddamn sun, so fucking bright it'll wreck my photo - to my white outfit. (choir sings, rapture ensues)

Can you believe it? Neutrals. And some of you know how I've been whinging about the colour drainage in store windows lately. The good thing about eating your words is there are no calories.

I'm in a quaint park near my home - very secluded except for hundreds of windows looking down on me and a constant flow of traffic. I'm getting better at ignoring it all but it was challenging having 650,000 people in my yard on the weekend* and I only had canapes and drinks enough for two. What a pickle I was in. I needed some loaves and fishes fast, no, strike that, some pizza, calamari, and Bloody Marys, and, oh yes, fruity flan would have been most welcome as well. The real miracle is I didn't swear in this paragraph, but of course I never swear.
*attending Pride Parade

  • white jeggings, rarely worn but inspired by a post by Sylvia at 40+ Style, retail sale bin years ago
  • beigy linen tunic with white trim, retail sale bin years ago
  • white floaty under-tunic, sample sale years ago
  • white blouse thing with collar, Value Village, deconstructed last night
  • magic loupe, O made it for me
  • studded platform shoes, retail sale
I'm including the shoes for fabulous Bella's Shoe Shine at The Citizen Rosebud, which she hosts on the first Wednesday of every month, but I don't see it yet, probably because she's taking a break. But here are my shoes anyway.

(Above written on Tuesday)

And next is what I'm wearing today (Wed) for Anne's Fruit Salad (Tutti Frutti) theme (peach, orange, lemon, lime) in her 52 Pick-Me-Up link-up at SpyGirl. I'm fruit flowers.

Every step is a new posing challenge. One must be prepared for paparazzi on every landing. But guess what? I was paparazzied (style-eyed) on my inspiration walk today by a handsome young man, Ben, who is a Vancouver street style photographer. So thanks to Anne's inspiration, I may be in his collection. I checked his tumblr when I got home, Flairspotting, and it will be interesting to see if he posts me... Sadly, my own street style blog is somewhat dormant at the moment.

I hope this little meditation exercise has helped you carry on with your day. I know it has helped me find my centre - and my top and bottom as well, the latter of which is getting easier to find every single day that I meditate on it. What a relief as I'd rather be human than an insect which only has a head, thorax, and abdomen with no bottom but SIX legs. Think of the pantyhose problem!

If you've not guessed, Miz Bagg is back in town. Who knows what's next.

PS: Powder Blue with Polka Dots posted a great photo of Norma Jean before she became MM. She summarizes everything I meant in the last post in one sentence with one photo. (Do you see the resemblance between Bella and Norma Jean like I do?) And I agree with Curtise's recent post about everyone's posts, if that makes sense.

Sunday 4 August 2013

Don't pin me down pinups

I'm hard to pin down when it comes to pinups - should I be myself or should I sexify myself with super sick phatness? Should I succumb to lax sexuational ethics

How about this? Pinup 1

If I told you that the me in this photo (brown wig, June 5/13) had written the best-seller 50 Ways to Make Men your Panting Slaves, would you see the image in a new light? If I were a trailblazing superhero-type politician (please don't call me an oxymoron) or a NASCAR winner, then what? How about if I were a Nobel Prize-winning astrophysicist who discovered dark energy around Uranus? Or what if you knew I was wearing red tassel pasties and a purple glitter thong under that demure white blouse and wraparound denim skirt? My facial expression would take on a whole new meaning, so would my mental state. And then you'd naturally ask, What (or who) is she doing with her right hand? Or simply, am I the famous editor of a French fashion magazine wearing a Chanel blouse and an Alexander McQueen maxi denim skirt with a diamond skull motif below the knee? As for men, we cannot dismiss the hotness factor of the plain straight-laced good-girl look. Um. Yeah...

Contextualization, what I call sexuational ethics, is paramount. If you're famous you can do pretty much whatever you want pinup-wise to accolades; if you're not, you better be ready to take off your clothes. But how far do you go beyond your comfort zone to be pinup sexy, if at all? (*Of course all my blogger friends qualify as famous.)

This was probably the most difficult of the portraits I've done so far in my art projects. In a parallel universe, or even in this one in another city or town, this could easily have been me(!). But I do like to think that I would have released my creative energies as maybe a pastry chef specializing in suggestive and outrageous desserts, a champion of the PTA, or a choirmaster with a penchant for quirky hymns. But I'm not those people. 

What this exercise underscored is the world of adventure under the clothes, which may not be apparent from one's body wrapping. Myself, I just happen to wear my adventures in a more surface way as well. Does that make me shallow?

Which leads me to Pinup 2

The sell-out audience listening my heavy-metal air ukulele solo were riveted to their seats, even after an hour. That reminds me, I shall have to tell the security guards at the exits to stop twirling their batons so vigorously. Don't they know that causes repetitive stress syndrome? Ooo, and I need to buy more rivets...
I am simply spewing sick phatness here wearing the requisite pinup underwear and bathing suit, albeit with my underwear on top of my front-zip, thigh-length bathing suit. This photo, taken by Sandra (Lens is More) on May 11, 2013, didn't make the VOGOFF cut, only because Miz Bagg, the editor, is such a screaming biatch. 

And then I come to THIS pinup. Pinup 3

If the first pinup was too cold and the middle one was too hot(?), this one is juust right. That's what I wore on Wednesday on my inspiration walk: my home-made T with low-rise jeans and my gym shoes. I am feeling very normal-self, minus specific sexification, but strong pinup-wise.

This post was inspired by the pinup/sexy conversation sparked by Bella at The Citizen Rosebud, which was then swept up by Jane George at Flight Platform Living and Desiree and Curtise and Tamera, and more I'm sure. In a world where people, an alarming number in fact, will have sex with anything with legs - probably insects too if it were possible - there's lots of room for interpretation about the concept of sexy. 

Which brings me back to sexuational ethics. I find that sex-o-vision is always more acute if there is a RELATIONSHIP or context to power it. A Steve Buscemi-lookalike as a neighbour? Probably not sexy, unless he were exceptionally funny and smart. Steve Buscemi on the big screen? Yup, sexy. If a chorus line of  male strippers gyrated their way into my living room while I'm dusting, I'd hand them all sponges and tell them to get started on the kitchen.* And men with model good looks? Meh. Why is it so easy to judge the sexiness of men but so many of us knock ourselves out when it comes to sexiness in ourselves - especially with our clothes on and especially with our clothes off.

If popular culture celebrated scientists and brains as sexy, you can bet Pinup 1 would be a contender, well, if I had someone else's brain. But it's Hollywood that seems to call the shots on sexy standards. I've never liked the Dove campaign for real beauty ads* because now we not only have professional models running around, laughing, in underwear, but our female friends and family members too. This is supposed to be a form of emancipation? And then there was that show How to Look Good Naked (a guilty pleasure). Please don't make me disrobe in the local shopping mall to prove that I'm attractive or love myself. Although I wouldn't mind a hearty wardrobe malfunction on the red carpet if I were famous and secretly got paid heaps of money for it. (Question to self: Would I disrobe for a centrefold for a million dollars? Just try me! Heh.)

Ah, life is funny. I guess we might as well dress up or strip down and enjoy it when possible, or not, and content ourselves knowing we're sexy on the inside - or not. Sexy - hate that word! Must. Stop. Now. Too many issues and just a weeny blog post. Plus, nobody pays me to be coherent. Ooo, which reminds me, I hope you've all seen Sarah, Misfits Vintage, in the June VOGOFF as Dr Hettie Hackenbush - now THAT's sexy, underwear under a winter coat with a sexy brain too.

Would you pose for a centrefold for a million dollars? What if it were for a women's magazine?

Oh, I'm linking up to Patti's VISIBLE MONDAY at Not Dead Yet Style. Drag your oozing sexiness and femme fatalism (actually, fatale-ism) over to Patti's garden of forbidden fruits (which means covered in whipped cream and chocolate, maybe swimming in liqueurs too). See you there.

*That scenario would NEVER happen as I don't dust.
*Lauded soap campaign in North America which features women of all shapes and ages running around, laughing, in white underwear. How unrealistic. Who wears white underwear any more?! (That soap burns my face like acid, by the way.)

Thursday 1 August 2013

Hat Attack!

Nothing like a fuzzy hat with my '20s-style bathing suit to celebrate Judith's inaugural Hat Attack at Style Crone.

Thatza big photo for a big hat. I wore this hat on May 11 for some June VOGOFF photos. This impromptu hat snap by Sandra (Lens is More) shows the alley parking lot where we were trying to decide what to wear from the stash of clothing stuffed in my car trunk. I love this hat and I've posted it once before with a scarf in tucked in the crown to keep the hat from sliding down over my eyes. Here.

See you over at Judith's. Happy Hat Attack, everyone! This is great encouragement for me to wear hats more often. I have some summer hats, but I couldn't resist sharing this fuzzy wonder again.

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