My Big Audition

Something happened this week. It was BIG. Mortifying. I felt like fainting several times, and a stranger, a man around 30, kissed my hand - more than twice. A crowd was watching and nobody intervened! Because I let him kiss me. Gaaa!!

In an email I told Suzanne Carillo what happened and she wrote back:  "Seriously. I would have crapped my pants, thrown up, run out screaming, had a panic attack midway to the door and passed out in my own vomit. They would have had to carry me out on a stretcher." She always sees the bright side of things.

The Brady Bunch gone very, very wrong

MARSHA, MARSHA, MARSHA

Here I am stretching out my face when I got home like a true athlete.

Yes, I went to an audition. I turned on my computer one morning last week and, boink, there it was, an email from a casting agency. Gaaa! They wanted to know if I would like to audition for a big TV campaign for a luxury product, megabucks, no acting experience needed – they just wanted "a look." They found out about me from the fashion shoot photographer, Katrin (details here). It would be a speaking part but I'd only need to remember one line for the audition.

When I came to, I wrote back, oh, okay, pfft, I suppose I can fit you in between lunch in Milan and dinner in Düsseldorf. Are you kidding? Yes!, I said. After I clicked SEND, I got started right away FREAKING OUT!! I had an exemplary base to build on from the photo shoot last month.

I needed to dress like I'm going to a swanky East Hamptons do, and not even as the wait staff! How ironic that of all my clothes I had nothing East Hamptonish, except linen trousers, so I got into character and went shopping in search of a million-dollar look for a tenner.

This is the dress I found, a Calvin Klein from the consignment store, sadly more than $10. I also bought a whack-load of new spanxy underthings to keep me erect and semi-spiky heels, which reminded me of Cher's shoes in Moonstruck - lucky for sure. When the audition was over, I quickly changed into pants but put this back on when I got home to show you, minus the support gear and pantyhose. I also wore small vintage gold earrings and my gold lava pendant (here), also removed.

You can see the little shiny black nibs on the shoes in this photo. 

When I arrived at the studio for the audition, there were about 50 impossibly handsome 30-something men in black tie sitting along the walls of the holding pen in eerie tomb-like silence, like a scene in a David Lynch movie. The clack of my spiky heels was the perfect soundtrack as I walked to the receiving desk with 100 eyeballs at my back, the only woman and the only oldster there, dressed like a frigging Normal no less.

I waited and waited. Finally it was my turn. 

Let me just say my nerves were pretty much under control until I stepped into the Room. From then on, it was CHAOS. Who were all these people?!

There were black leather couches arranged on risers at the back, where ten or so men awaited their turn on stage at the front, two huuuuge monitors, plus a cameraman, director, and presumably a Somebody. I felt the rigor grip my face. Relax relax relax - such useless stupid words. I could have twisted a steel pipe with my spanxified sphincter, in a dignified Hamptons way of course.

I also wore this vintage coat and doggy scarf for good luck. And a lucky ring O made me. I left my hair flat for sophistication but could have used the power boost of lighthouse hair.

Without going into detail, in my scene I had to pretend I was in a car looking around outside. I channeled my inner bobble-head. The director said encouragingly, Okay, try it again. Just try and relax and breathe.

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Are you kidding!!? 

Do you think I'm a pro & can just breathe on demand?! 

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How could I relax when the butterflies in my stomach were devouring my flesh from the inside out!! I was a little shaky Chihuahua. In each take, my Fake Husband next to me gently took hold of my hand and kissed it. Oooh, sweet escape. I'm surprised I didn't jump into his lap and start licking his face. Although I think I squeaked, for real.

This is how I looked on the inside, in a good way. Except you can't see the carnivorous butterflies. 

The Director said I looked great on camera. All I could think was, that's what you say to all the grotesque failures!! After just over five minutes it was over. 

I was awful, horrible, hideous, although my catatonic gaze must surely have induced a case of mass hypnosis because when I was finished everyone applauded. (Not a dramatic slow clap, just regular clapping.) Granted, it was after I heaved a huuuge sigh of relief and said, This is my first time doing this, I SURVIVED! Everyone was so happy for me (and there's a special joy that comes from the thought, Oh, man, at least I won't screw up that bad and I'm young!).

Walking home, I mentally made arrangements to sell my new imaginary Beverly Hills home, and I treated myself to a hot French roll with butter at Terra Breads, so much more relaxing than worrying about hiring a gardener and a pool boy after all. 

There's nothing like a little mortification to feel truly alive.

 

I few days later, not having received a call-back of course, I wrote to the casting agency apologizing that I choked and blew it, and expressed my relief that I didn't bark or pee on the director's leg. Most importantly, I thanked them for giving me a shot in the first place. End of story.

Not! The agent wrote back and said I was "awesome," "beautiful," and "didn't look nervous at all," that they'll "definitely be in touch again." When I came to, I wrote back and said, I fell off my chair and I'm laughing now. Thank you! No, I didn't get this; I got lots to write about though. And I didn't humiliate myself as much as I had feared. Heh.

I'll be linking this fancy Normal look up with Patti at Not Dead Yet Style for Visible Monday, and Catherine at Not Dressed as Lamb for #iwillwearwhatilike even though I had to dress according to a guideline. Her theme is ruffles. My nerves were ruffled; that counts. The last photo is of a bag I bought, $5. I can't help but smile when I see it. Arf.

Edit: I have also just linked to Cherie's Shoe and Tell at her blog Style Nudge for the first time. After all, I'm wearing my new-to-me Moonstruck shoes. Couldn't miss this one.

So, you never know, right? I would not have had this audition opportunity if I hadn't been blogging and trying new scary things. Thank you for your support always! Mwah, mwah!

Didn't they outlaw exclamation marks in the UK? This post would get me arrested for sure!!
Have a great week!

Bring on the hounds, and Hat Attack 29

Did I the mention the post-gala party? (what gala? see here) The wild frickin' partying all frickin' night long?!! Boozing on dregs, semi-nude prancing on linen-topped tables, catwalk histrionics with dirty cutlery aids, drunken Chicken Dance-ing down gold-foiled halls hung with dour portraits of past presidents, Carol Burnett-style yodelling in the men's bathroom, giggly Hide & Seek with security, and boisterous kitchen raids for more dessert. Did I mention that?

No? Maybe because in reality I staggered home early in exhaustion and slept, collated my photos, and got a cold three days later like a respectable middle-aged tween. Such a wuss!! One tablespoon of wine these days and I'm out. But I can dream, can't I? - if that kind of drunken debauchery still counts as a dream...

I was feeling better today so it was time to call in the hounds. Yes, nothing like double-dose houndsteeth for extra bite and snarl - that's good medicine. But no more muzzling with my facemask - that phase of my cold is past, thank goodness. I try to mask up to keep my germs to myself, plus the mask is like a little security blankie for my face. I put a photo of me in one of my masks on Instagram here. 

And it's time to join Judith's 29th Hat Attack at Style Crone - I can't miss it. I made sure to wear this lovely thrifted indigo felt beret. I used to wear it all the time and it felt good jamming it down over my ears again today. It still fits! - I was worried because of the massive head bloat I got from all your generous comments about the fashion show. (Thank you, by the way!)

I don't like the gloves with this, but, hey, it was cold. And the belt is sticking out - drats. My PA is fired!! The coat is a high-end cashmere-wool blend from My Sister's Closet, $5 rack; the Italian slip-on leather booties are from there too, so pointy the toes turn up. And thrifted houndstooth Steve Madden stretch ankle-zip pants, O's real rockstar button down from Tokyo days, and my magic loupe from O.

I'm linking these hungry hounds up to Patti's fabulous Visible Monday at Not Dead Yet Style, where she's serving up ice cream cake. Woo-hoo!! That's something to party about.

Speaking of O, he made me another ruby and stainless steel ring with a tension mount. It's the third in a set of three rings made from chunks of stainless steel, each with increasing difficulty to make. The first one is here, the second is here, and this one.

This beauty really, really glows like an LED when the light hits it, there is so little contact between the stone and the mount with a very narrow band, which lets in even more light. Also, because the stone has such an elevated setting, sometimes I get an intense red reflection on my finger underneath. Again, he has polished the steel to a black finish.

I was excited so I had to show you. You'll see this ring frequently in my photos in the future.

I'm still coming down from the high of the fashion show. I obsess about all the things I could have done better. Live and learn. But I found out that I love styling other people, which I wasn't sure I would enjoy. Good to know.

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Finally,
I must mention my great thanks to Still Weird Zine for featuring me in "10 Fashion Bloggers Who are Keeping it Weird." Yesss. I am honoured to wear the weirdness banner, especially in such august company. Cool blog full of music, arts, and weirdness. Hurrah! Have a look.

And Sally at Already Pretty gave me a fantastic shout-out on her Lovely Links on Nov. 20 for my patterny outfit that refused to go wrong, here. Thank you, Sally!

I hope you are all well and dressing every day like you're on the catwalk. Yee haw!!

Happy upholstery coat and alley opera coat

Why am I smiling? Because I finally mastered how to fake it - even in public with a tripod and people watching. But, really, why? 

I suppose because I like the effect. I look happy. Smiling lifts the face and is a welcoming expression. "Oh, she looks fun!" I certainly recoil violently at the idea that one should smile for any reason. Clearly, in high-style/fashion photos one shouldn't smile - fashion is serious - which would make this smile a little toothy finger to the sucked-in-cheeks crowd. Heh.

You must have noticed that you usually only see women smiling/laughing or dancing in media when they're advertising cleaning products and diet yogurt? Would it surprise you to know that my hands are in my pockets to hide the callouses I get from gripping the Swiffer handle (dusting product) and the meat cleaver while preparing gourmet meals for O?

My sleeves are extra long to conceal the effects of gently sponging our dishes to sparkling newness each day and painstakingly Q-tipping the Silver and venetian blinds because that's just what one does in a phantom smile life. 

The outfit: 

• jacquard upholstery "Mad Hatter" jacket 
• mega-over-sized silk blouse 
• drop-crotch high-waisted ankle-zip pants 
• dangly earrling
• granny shoes from Sheila of Ephemera hee hee thanks 
• black knee socks

Usually a happy expression has wider appeal, like a pink pony (bleh), but you can't beat a gritty bitch look in my books. It's another finger to trendy cheek-sucking, although I confess that I enjoy cheek-sucking on occasion as well. Why limit myself? 

I wore both of these looks last week. On the day I took these alley shots I was feeling raw and introspective. I tried the big smile, I tried real hard, but even faking failed.

The outfit:

• long black velvet opera coat
• Converse laceless runners
• patched jeans
• tie-dye shirt with studs on the shoulders
• wrap belt from Kunming in China
• maxi cardigan
• big scarf
• magic loup, omnipresent

I'm a vampire again. I don't care if Halloween is over. I took a selfie and there was no one there.

I'm linking this post up to:

• Patti's VISIBLE MONDAY at Not Dead Yet Style;
• Catherine's #iwillwearwhatilike at Not Dressed as Lamb;
• Anne's 52 Pick-me-up: Lemonade/Prayer/Clarity at SpyGirl. 

FINALLY, although the photo below is too grainy (I was farking with my camera), this is one of my favourite shots of the day, mostly because of the guy in the doorway behind me. Hahaha! Are you smiling? Have a good week everyone!

Friends wigging out, and Hat Attack

Hat Attack! 

This is my contribution to Judith's excellent Hat Attack #26 on Style Crone. I've worn this straw hat before for Hat Attack but not with these zingy clothes. Blam! A blast of sunshine!! The sunglasses and pants are new to me and the belt has been in regular rotation lately. 

AND - 

At the 40+ blogger meetup in Vancouver in July, Shawna of The Director of Awesome invited the last women standing - Sheila of Ephemera, Sylvia of 40+ Style, and me - to her room for a little pyjama party after the jazz bar. We were determined to stretch out the merriment for at least one more hour. 

Of course I brought my satchel of wigs. As we know, wigs are to a blogger photo shoot what monkey bars are to a playground. Here are a few of the shots I took - I messed with them slightly to enhance a particular mood. Aren't these women stunning?! 

Above, Shawna, quintessential woman of the '60s. I love this long-legged sophisticate look. In her hand is a blue wig (also on Sylvia later), but in black and white you might think it's Fifi (or a tribble). She's wearing a faux fur stole, also from my bag, and those are the ties hanging off the bed.

Sheila is the best sex kitten! She is a fearless model and I had to be quick to keep up. She looked spectacular in every wig and every shot.

"The Supermodel." Sylvia put on "Fifi" and then wrapped the fur stole around it. I never would have thought of it. She was a natural in front of the camera but I'm not showing you all of the photos I took, except to say we laughed a lot.

Below are Sheila's pink bossy pants - she calls them that. I love her confidence but I don't think she's bossy - that would be me with my camera. 

If you hang around me with my wigs and camera, you're bound to end up in compromising situations. Of course, I obtained permission from everyone here to post these photos. And thank you, Shawna, for being such a mod, gracious hostess. 

I feel like a cat who nonchalantly drops dead birds and other little animals at my human's doorstep when I post unexpected photos and videos. You are summoned by my meowing, poke at my offering to see if it's still alive, and think, oh, she's been at it again, as you watch me saunter away. 

Which brings me to this.
Sheila sent me three pairs of shoes during her closet overhaul: Fluevog (correction: Gold Button, but I love them like Vogs) booties, heeled granny shoes, and sandals from the Mountains of Italy! Her gift inspired this 30sec video.

I had some cool footage from an outing on an elevated train so I wanted to play with green screen. The sound is poor but it's betta' than nuttin' ya sorry mutts. Heh. Thank you, Sheila!!

Have a great weekend, everyone, as if you need me to tell you. It's a long one here with Labour Day on Monday. I'm so jealous of those dames having a meetup with Sylvia in New York. Ya wise guys!

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Edit: I just found out that Catherine of Not Dressed as Lamb has a new Link-up thingy under the theme "I Will Wear What I Like" in response to hideous style rules for women over 30. Thirty? Bwahahaha!! For me dressing is as much a political act as a statement of aesthetic preference, so I shall wear exactly what I please.

"Use it or lose it"

We must cherish our right to freedom of expression 

and not be cowed by cows

Catherine's last round was only for Instagrammers but she has broadened it to include blog posts as well, so I'm goin'! - at least this time because I happen to meet this week's theme: Colour. 

Maybe I'll see you there. 

Caught on tape! Ack!

Look, I'm baring my teeth again, I mean laughing. This selfie photographer cracks me up!

If you are a regular visitor, you'll know I was pissed off that I didn't get a free breakfast at the media pre-launch party of the Ted Baker store in Vancouver in June, as offered, and I felt like a style freak there. You can read about it HERE.

It's the stuff of folklore, really. Next I'll write a Dylan-esque song about it. Maybe a play too. During the meetup I even took a group of bloggers on a tour of the site.

The dress I was going to wear to the opening
but changed my mind.

Well, I was in a crowded elevator yesterday with my neighbour, the actor who was in Chupacabra vs. the Alamo, an outstanding film, and our conversation went something like this:

Neighbour: Oh, I forgot to congratulate you.
Me: Oh? Uhhh, what did I do? (hesitant laugh)
Neighbour: Yeah, I saw you on TV. (everyone in the elevator wakes up)
Me: (pause, then alarm - did someone get that on tape!!?) I don't know what you're...
Neighbour: Yeah, Pacific Centre Mall opened a new section or something a while ago and you were there. They had a really big picture of you.
Me: Whaaaa...? You're joking. I was on TV?
Neighbour: You looked really good. Full screen, as the intro for the piece. I was meaning to say something to you for a while now but I...
Me: (zoning out in shock and relief that it wasn't for that other thing)

What a great reason to do the jazz hands pose!

Forget about Ted no-breakfast Baker - it turns out I was the face for the opening of the whole new wing of the mall. Oh, oh, I feel faint when I say it, but I was the...

Mall Wing Face! 

Hahaha, 50-plus, with everything on my back thrifted and vintage. Chalk one up for us, my fellow 40-plus friends and thrifters. Of course, finding this out now is kind of like winning Olympic bronze several years later when they find out the previous medalist was a drug fiend.

Reflections. They radiated about 3 meters around me whenever I stepped into the sun.

Wearing: spangly top and rosy bottoms from My Sister's Closet, gorgeous necklace made by my friend Anja (xo!) of Curly Traveller, geta-style sandals, mechanical watch and magic loupe from O.

I searched the Net for the clip but couldn't find it, O helped too. My neighbour couldn't remember which station, just "the news." I'll need a stronger Ikea lamp to grill him under. Given that my TV is disconnected I wouldn't have even known had my neighbour not mentioned it. So take that! you twenty-something who ran away from me in fear, almost squeaking in your hasty retreat.

Greetje didn't squeak. That's Sylvia (40+ Style) and Greetje (No Fear of Fashion) when we were shopping at Ted no-breakfast Baker. This is my therapy, one of my favourite photos of the recent Vancouver blogger meetup. This is what shopping at its best is all about: time spent laughing together. We had a blast at Mr. Baker. No yummy breakfast can match that feeling.

Lesson:
You can be pissed off about breakfast, but never, no NEVER, doubt yourself and your style. And the power of a good laugh. YEEEAH!!!

Something eerie
The outfit I was wearing on the day of the Baker launch was the same one as in my Chupacabra post HERE. Get it?...It was the actor from that movie that told me... Okay, too many dots to connect? Trust me, neener neener.

Any weirdness in your life right now? Spangly maybe?

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OTHER NEWS:

My friend Sandra of Lens is More has opened an Etsy store! You may remember her from my VOGOFF promo videos here and here, and her appearance as Diavola in VOGOFF magazine here.

Her shop is called Standard Deviations, heh, and she offers very cool custom-made pillows, coasters, cards, and more. Even Norman Reedus of the show The Walking Dead likes his deviant Sandra pillow. No lie. Check it out!

She inspires me to do something too. Now I have to go take a nap. Mall Wing Face must keep up appearances. Hahaha.